SOLARIO THE TAILOR
[Illustration: Mortimer the Executioner]
[Illustration: “Then I will begin,” said Solario, the Tailor, “the
story of----”]
SOLARIO THE TAILOR
_HIS TALES OF THE MAGIC DOUBLET_
BY
WILLIAM BOWEN
[Illustration]
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1922
_All rights reserved_
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
[Illustration]
COPYRIGHT, 1922,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1922.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
THE FIRST NIGHT
STORY OF THE OLD MAN IN THE SPANGLED COAT
PAGE
_The doublet with the missing button--The dark mansion in the
walled park--The tailor meets the tall black man and his fair
daughter--The Black Prince tells his story--Eight tailors who
could not sew on a single button--The tailor is visited by a
hideous old woman--The jolly mule driver and his
sing-song--Adventures in search of Alb the Unicorn--Solario
encounters Alb the Unicorn--The button is sewed on with the
unicorn’s hair--The Prince receives the tailor’s terms--The
magic doublet is suddenly produced_ 1
THE SECOND NIGHT
ALB THE UNICORN
_Alb the Fortunate and the Princess Hyla--A tattered old beggar
comes to the goldsmith’s shop--The old man proposes a strange
bargain--The three black hairs in the yellow head--Alb wins the
promise of the Princess’s hand--A trifling incident disturbs
Alb’s mother--Unreasonable conduct of the goldsmith’s widow--The
merrymakers are suddenly sobered by the goldsmith’s son--The
Princess behaves in an amusing fashion--The Princess finds her
husband bewitched--Alb and the Princess visit the One-Armed
Sorcerer--The Old Man of Ice, The Laughing Nymph, and
the Great Horned Owl--The burning glass, the brass pin, and the
loop of thread--He hears thunder in a clear sky--He goes
down into the cave in Thunder Mountain--He pursues the
Man of Ice with the burning glass--He commences to make his
escape from the cave--He sails across the Great Sea--He finds a
child in a pool of the rock--The Laughing Nymph in the Three-Spire
Rock--He remembers the brass pin in time--The second
black hair is gone--The Great Horned Owl stands ready for the
loop of thread--The wrong hand and a desperate fall--Alb sees
in the river the reflection of a unicorn_ 31
THE THIRD NIGHT
THE SON OF THE TAILOR OF OOGH
_The Prince receives the magic doublet--The Prince and his
daughter set forth for Oogh--A strange encounter at the wayside
well--The three blind ballad singers--The blind ballad singer
displays the Shears of Sharpness--The strange conduct of the people
of Oogh--The mansion in the ruined park--The solitary figure behind
the spider’s web--The Prince watches the people’s behavior
toward the boy--The man with the ball in the underground alley--The
Prince sets out for his encounter with Babadag the Tailor--Babadag
the Tailor, Goolk the Spider, and the eight tailors--The
three blind ballad singers once more--The magic doublet
protects the Prince against the Knitters of Eyebrows and against
Goolk the Spider--The Prince’s daughter has beguiled the Shears
of Sharpness from the ballad singers--A light flickers in the dark
shop--The Prince’s daughter is gone, and the Prince makes a dash
for liberty--Babadag the Tailor is conquered by his little son--The
governor, being released, beholds the Prince’s daughter--The
shearing of the Eyebrow--The skin of the Prince is black--The
doom of the city of Oogh--The tailor’s son follows him into the
burning city--The boy is found on the sill of his ruined home,
alive--The eight tailors stand before them in a row--They meet
the three blind ballad singers for the last time_ 73
THE FOURTH NIGHT
THE RAGPICKER AND THE PRINCESS
_The Princess hears a voice from the waves beneath her window--The
Princess sees the shadow of an old woman--A midnight visit from
a one-armed old man--Alb, seeking the Princess, sits down by the
seashore--An interview with a talking seal--A sea journey on the
back of a seal--The village of storks--The feeding of the
storks--The Ragpicker frightens the men away with her bag--He
follows the Ragpicker down into the dark--She stirs a steaming
mixture with her long, hooked forefinger--The shadows of the
children--He loses his way in the dark--He hears the voice of the
seal again--He peeps into the sorcerer’s workshop--He lies in wait
with a bow and arrow--The Ragpicker releases the shadows in
the street--A singular commotion on the housetops--The Princess
is herself again, but--The King beholds his child and is
grieved--The seal introduces his liniment, guaranteed to cure in
all cases_ 126
THE FIFTH NIGHT
THE CITY OF DEAD LEAVES
_The misfortunes of Tush the Apothecary--They find themselves
on an unknown shore--The startling effect of making a ring of
grass--They start upon a journey through the air--The orange tree
and the panther--They come upon the King’s brother in rags--A
dwarf clad in motley stands up to speak--Buffo the Fool leads
them to the palace--They find the King in a terrible state--The
Perfection Cream is rubbed into the itching palm--Tush the
Apothecary takes the people in hand--Paravaine has made her
choice--He finds himself rubbing his palms together--He cannot
find the ingredients for making the salve--Tush and his sister
are seized by the angry crowd--The genie in the whirlwind--The
pulling off of the genie’s ring_ 169
THE SIXTH NIGHT
THE ENCHANTED HIGHWAYMAN
_A voice from nowhere bids the Prince stop--The Prince listens
to a curious discourse--The Prince, alone in the forest, hears
the bark of a dog--The prisoner inside the wasp’s nest--The dog
leaps upon him to devour him--The Prince, sitting on the ground,
looks up at a genie--The One-Armed Sorcerer appears from within
the wasp’s nest--The Highwayman and nine of his daughters appear
in proper person--He sees the Highwayman’s tenth daughter--The
genie breathes fire upon the witch’s hut--The One-Armed
Sorcerer performs upon a button--The genie flies away with the
witch--The Prince leads his beloved home--The magic doublet is
presented at the wedding_ 206
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
1. “Then I will begin,” said Solario the Tailor, “the
story of----” _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
2. Solario was sitting on his worktable busily plying the needle 4
3. The Unicorn stamped and gave a piercing neigh 20
4. “There is something here,” said the old beggar, “which I wish
to buy” 36
5. Mortimer the Executioner was being measured by Solario for
a suit 74
6. “You are welcome, master peddler,” said Babadag 98
7. “Beauty in tatters!” said Babadag the Tailor 110
8. The shadow of a Ragpicker oozed in through the door 134
9. The one-armed sorcerer plucked a feather from the stork 156
10. The genie flew away with Tush and his sister 178
11. The genie swung him back and forth and tossed him out to sea 204
12. “I held my trusty blade on high and took from him his money” 212
[Illustration]
TO BE READ FIRST
In the book called “The Enchanted Forest” it is related-- But I hope
that you have read that book, or at least that you sincerely intend to
do so as soon as you have time, but no matter; it is all about a Forest
Kingdom, and a Great Forest that was enchanted by a witch, an irritable
sort of person who-- Not that she was to be blamed altogether, in my
judgment, for she had been provoked to it by a page boy belonging to
the King of the Forest, and I am personally not surprised that this
young rogue was in consequence spirited away in the middle of the
night, no one knew whither.
Another boy (quite a different sort) named Bilbo, son of one Bodad a
woodchopper, managed to disenchant the forest and destroy the witch,
and for this he was given, when he was old enough, the hand of the
King’s daughter, the Princess Dorobel; and in course of time there came
to them a little son, by name Bojohn.
This Bojohn, with his friend Bodkin, a fisherman’s boy, afterward
discovered the lost page boy in a chamber beneath a forest pool, where
the witch had placed him for his punishment; and in this chamber, with
the page boy, was a company of enchanted men, also placed there by the
witch, at various times, each for some offense against her, and each
sitting there upright in a kind of cupboard in the wall, unable to
speak or move. These men, and the page boy too, Prince Bojohn and his
friend Bodkin set free, by means of a magical silver lamp.
In the audience room of the King’s dwelling, a noble castle in the
midst of the forest, the entire court assembled to welcome the rescued
men on the night of their arrival; and the King, after making a speech
(which no power on earth could have prevented his doing), created the
rescued men, without bothering to ask whether they wanted it or no, an
order of knighthood, to be known as the Order of the Silver Lamp. This
done, he addressed the new knights,--but here I may as well turn back
to the book itself, which thus relates what then occurred:
“We are all anxious,” said the King, “to hear your stories; they are,
I am sure, of the greatest interest. You, sir,” he said, addressing the
oldest of the Knights of the Silver Lamp, who wore a faded spangled
coat, of a period no one present could remember, “I beseech you to
recount to us the story of your life, and in particular the adventure
which brought you to so strange a pass.”
“Willingly, sire,” said the ancient man, so readily that it was
apparent he had been waiting for this opportunity; and thereupon, with
a considerable rustling and a good deal of whispering and nodding of
heads, the assemblage composed itself to hear the story of the Old Man
in the Spangled Coat.
[Illustration: Bojohn and Bodkin]
_The Teller of Tales_
SOLARIO THE TAILOR
_His Audience_
PRINCE BOJOHN, _a boy, the King’s grandson_
BODKIN, _a fisherman’s boy, his friend_
THE PRINCESS DOROBEL, _Bojohn’s mother_
PRINCE BILBO, _her husband, Bojohn’s father_
THE KING and QUEEN _of the Great Forest, Bojohn’s
grandfather and grandmother, and the Princess Dorobel’s parents_
MORTIMER the EXECUTIONER
THE ENCOURAGER of the INTERRUPTER
[Illustration]
THE FIRST NIGHT
STORY OF THE OLD MAN IN THE SPANGLED COAT
You must know (began the old man) that I am a tailor, by name Solario.
In the reign of the good King Fortmain the Ninth--
_“Ah!” interrupted the King. “That was my great-grandfather. Bless my
soul, master tailor, you must have been imprisoned under the forest
pool nearly a hundred years ago. Hum! I dare say you know what you’re
talking about, but--”_
_“My dear,” said the Queen, “I’m quite sure that the ninth Fortmain
was your great-great-grandfather, and not your great-grandfather,
though of course I may be mistaken; but it seems to me that it was the
tenth Fortmain who was your great-grandfather, because the ninth had
an oldest son who married into the Stiffish family, if I recollect the
name correctly, or perhaps it was Standish, and at any rate he died
without any children while his father was alive, and the younger son
came into the--”_
_“Never mind, never mind,” said the King. “You mustn’t interrupt. Let
the man go on with his story.”_
You must know (began the old man again) that in the reign of the good
King Fortmain the Ninth, I practised my art as a tailor in the city of
Vernicroft, a thriving and busy city, located in a corner of the Great
Forest remote from--
_“Vernicroft!” said the King. “I don’t understand it. There’s no such
busy city now. There’s nothing but a little ruined hamlet away over at
the other side of the--”_
_“Well,” said the Queen, “perhaps at that time--”_
_“Don’t interrupt,” said the King. “Let the man go on.”_
You must know (began the old man again) that I had risen to a
considerable eminence in my profession. I do not pretend to say that
I was the very best tailor in the kingdom, for I am far too modest to
speak of my own merit; but the--er--the spangled coat in which you now
see me was a creation of my own brain, and at the time it was thought
to be--er--however, it speaks for itself.
_“I think it’s a perfect sight,” whispered Bojohn to Bodkin._
It is true I was growing old, but I was very well satisfied; there
was no one dependent on me, my clients were numerous and rich, and I
enjoyed the respect due an artist and man of substance. I had saved a
good deal of money, for I had never squandered any in foolish gifts,
nor wasted any in ridiculous pleasures, nor--but I do not wish to boast.
_“That’s a wonderful thing to brag about,” whispered Bodkin to Bojohn._
One morning, a balmy morning in spring, I was sitting cross-legged on
my worktable at the rear of my shop, busily plying the needle, when a
stranger, richly dressed, entered my open door from the street, and
approached me, bowing courteously. He was a handsome man, wearing a
short beard; and I remarked with surprise, by contrast with his beard,
that he was utterly without eyebrows.
“Sir,” said he, “have I the pleasure of addressing the renowned
Solario, whose genius has caused our city to be envied wherever art is
prized?”
I confessed that I was the person.
“My master,” he went on, “is a nobleman, to whose ears the rumor of
your skill and taste has penetrated, although he lives in retirement
and hears not much of the outer world. I trust that you are at liberty
to undertake a piece of work for him?”
I assured him that I was.
“My master,” he proceeded, “is, I must warn you, unable to satisfy
himself, in the matter now in hand, with less than absolute perfection.
Already he has been disappointed in some eight other tailors, and he
has learned of your superlative excellence with much hope; and in order
that he may assure himself how well his report of you is justified, he
has commanded me to entrust to you a small commission; to wit, to sew
on this button.”
I was greatly mortified at this lame conclusion of so promising a
speech; I suspected that the stranger was making game of me; but his
manner was so respectful that I held my peace, and watched him without
a word while he took from under his short blue velvet cloak a package,
and depositing it before me on my table proceeded to undo it.
_“This old fellow talks like he was writing a composition,” whispered
Bodkin to Bojohn._
_“Oh, he’s a conceited pumpkin,” whispered Bojohn. “He loves to hear
himself talk, and I bet you he’s thinking we’re thinking we never heard
such fine language in our lives. That’s him, all over.”_
_The Doublet with the Missing Button_
The package contained a doublet, of a material I had never seen before,
very thin and glossy, of a texture like that of wasp’s nest but very
tough. The doublet contained ten buttonholes, but only nine buttons;
one button, and one only, was missing.
“I have here,” said my visitor coolly, “the missing button; and my
master will be obliged if you will sew it on.”
[Illustration: Solario was sitting on his worktable busily plying the
needle]
He produced the button, a large ivory one, which, with the garment, he
held up before me in his left hand.
“Please to hold out your left hand,” said he.
I did so, and with his own left hand he placed the garment and the
button in mine.
“This doublet,” said he, “must not pass from one to another but by
the left hand. Please to remember that. And now, adieu. I will return
to-morrow. Meantime--”
He laid on my table a small purse, and bowing with sober courtesy he
left the shop.
I turned up the purse, and a number of gold coins fell out, enough to
pay for sewing on five hundred buttons. “Ah!” thought I. “At this rate
I can well afford to gratify my new client’s whimsies.”
The next day the courteous stranger returned for the doublet. I
delivered it with my left hand into his own left hand, the button
being attached firmly in place. He thanked me, and departed; but on
the morning after, he reappeared, to my surprise, and as he came in he
smiled at me and shook his head at me waggishly.
“Fie! master Solario!” said he. “How could you have treated me so? And
a mere button, too! Really, my good Solario!”
He produced the doublet, and showed me that it lacked a button in the
same place as before. He held up in one hand the ivory button and in
the other a length of thread. I was perplexed. The thread had not
been cut, of that I was sure. It was the identical thread, and of the
identical length.
“You will not blame my master,” said the stranger, “if he finds himself
a little aggrieved. He had scarcely put on the doublet yesterday when
the button came off in his hand. I was commanded to leave it with you
once more, together with this trifling honorarium.”
So saying, he dropped a little purse on my table as before, and after
putting the garment and its button into my left hand with his own left
hand, bowed himself out. I turned up the purse in haste, and poured out
a number of gold coins, as before, but this time twice as many. I put
away the gold into my coffer, and sewed on the button once more, with
special care.
I whipped the thread around itself under the button, sewed it through
the goods, doubled it back through the button, wound it and knotted
it and doubled it back, and altogether made such a job of it (however
painful to me as an artist) as was perfect for security.
_“I don’t see,” interrupted the King, “what all this business about a
button has got to do with--”_
_“If your majesty will pardon me,” said the old tailor, “I have not yet
reached the end of my story.”_
_“I’m well aware of it,” said the King. “But still I don’t see--”_
_“My dear!” said the Queen, sweetly, and the old man went on with his
story._
Next morning the stranger returned for the doublet. I delivered it into
his left hand with my left, and he turned to go. At the door he looked
back at me smiling, and was about to bow himself out when he paused to
try the button with his fingers. A slight frown came over his face; he
pulled the button gently, and behold, there before my eyes,--I assure
you I saw it with these very eyes,--the button came off into his hand!
He sighed, looked at me gravely, and held out the button in one hand
and the doublet in the other.
“Alas, good master Solario!” said he. “You have not treated me very
well. The hopes I entertained for your profit are at an end. It remains
only for me to apologize for my intrusion, and for you to return to me
the money which I left with you.”
This was too much. The idea of returning money which had once been
locked safely in my coffer was more than I could bear. I sprang down
from my table. “One moment!” I cried. “I beg of you! That I should not
be able to sew on a miserable button--it is too ridiculous! Let me see
your master myself, and prove to him what I can do! Take me to him at
once! Let him assign me any task whatever, and I swear to you--”
“You wish to see my master?” said the stranger.
“At once!” I cried. “Do not carry back to him a report of me so unjust!
I must see him myself!”
“Be careful what you say,” said the stranger. “You may be sorry.”
“Impossible!” said I. “Take me to him at once!”
The stranger looked at me thoughtfully. “If I take you,” said he,
“swear that you will never blame me for what may happen.”
“I swear it!” I cried.
“You will remember that I warned you?”
“On my own head be it! Let us go at once!”
“Very well, then. The decision is yours, not mine; remember that. I
will return for you to-night, and you will then, if you are still of
the same mind, be ready to accompany me to my master.”
He tucked the doublet with its button under his cloak, and in another
moment he was gone.
That night, after dark, as I was putting up my shutters, a splendid
coach and pair, driven by a black man in a rich but somber livery,
stopped at my door, and the smiling stranger descended. I ran into the
shop and put on my best attire. Some time before, I had designed and
executed the coat in which you now see me; it had been much admired; I
put it on, and hastened out to the stranger, who bowed me politely into
the carriage.
During our journey, my companion exerted himself to be agreeable; and
I, on my part, fairly unloosed the rein of conversation,--an art in
which, I confess, I had always taken the greatest pleasure. On this
occasion I surpassed myself; I drew upon the mysteries of our noble
craft for his entertainment; I was by turns humorous and grave; I was
at my best; it would not be too much to say that I sparkled; and in
short, when the carriage stopped, I realized that I had taken no note
of our route.
We drew up in a street which was unfamiliar to me. As we alighted, I
observed before me a high wall, extending in either direction as far as
I could see; and immediately at hand a little door in the wall, toward
which my companion led me. He pulled a bell-rope, and we were at once
admitted by a second black man, in the livery I had already seen. I was
aware, in spite of the darkness, that we were in a garden, or rather
park, of immense dimensions.
_The Dark Mansion in the Walled Park_
I could see the dark outline of what appeared to be a great mansion.
There were no lights anywhere. The air was heavy with the perfume
of flowers, a cloying perfume, oppressively sweet. We came, after a
considerable walk, to the house. At my companion’s knock, a door was
opened by a servant, black like the other two.
We entered a narrow hall, and at the end of this hall we reached a
door, which was opened by a fourth man-servant, black like the others;
and after ascending a flight of stairs, and traversing several spacious
apartments, we came to a pause in a small but elegant room, where my
companion left me.
In a moment he returned, and beckoned me to come with him. He opened
a door, gently pushed me through, closed the door behind me, and left
me, as he advanced, blinking under the light of a hundred candles in
a room more superb than any I had ever seen. The colored tiles of the
floor, the thick rugs, the curious vases, the pictured tapestries on
the walls,--I took them all in at a glance; and I was aware at the
same time of an aroma like that of the flowers in the garden, but very
faint.
_The Tailor Meets the Tall Black Man and His Fair Daughter_
At one end of the apartment was a table, loaded with fruit and flowers
and wine. At the other end, on a divan, sat a tall and majestic man,
dressed in the most exquisite taste. His skin was ebony black. He
wore drooping black mustaches, and his hair was long and black; but
I observed that he was, like the Courteous Stranger, totally without
eyebrows.
At his feet, on a cushion, sat a lady, young and beautiful, a lady
divinely beautiful, more beautiful than any I had ever seen or dreamed
of. Her complexion! it was all cream and roses. Her eyes! they were
blue of the blueness of violets, and they were merry and soft together.
Her hair!--I swear I can see her at this moment. Her hair was of the--
But I must not allow myself to think of her. The black man and the
wonderful lady rose, and my companion presented me.
“You are welcome, Solario,” said the tall black man, smiling
graciously. “You have wished to see me, as I hear, and to give me proof
of your skill. But we can converse better while we refresh ourselves.
You observe that the table is set for four. My daughter has, as you
see, already counted upon your company. I hope you will consent to
accept our poor hospitality.”
We seated ourselves at the table. My host clapped his hands four times,
and four serving men entered, bearing the first course. They were
black, like the four I had already seen. They were without eyebrows,
and I seemed to remember the same defect in the other four. Eight men
servants, all black, and all without eyebrows! I was puzzled; and when
I looked from the fair face of the lady opposite me to the black face
of her father, I was completely mystified. As for my stranger, he
scarcely took his eyes from the damsel; and from the manner in which
she now and then returned his gaze, I could see that they were on a
footing of tenderness.
When we were at the end of our repast, and were trifling with our
grapes and wine, my black host addressed himself directly to me. I
was in a mellow mood; I felt that I could scarcely have denied him
anything; and as for his daughter, if she had bade me run for her sake
to the ends of the-- Well, the wine was excellent; I sniffed in it the
same aroma I had noticed twice before; and I was in consequence of it
in that state of peace which in other circumstances would have preceded
slumber. My host leaned toward me in the friendliest attitude.
_The Black Prince Tells His Story_
“My dear Solario,” said he, “you are asking yourself, all this while,
who I am. I am a Prince, heir to the throne of the distant kingdom of
Wen. My skin was formerly white, like my daughter’s. It was changed,
as you see it now, by the power of an enemy, and I am awaiting here,
in exile, with my daughter and my friend, the release which day and
night I dream of. If you are not too weary, I will relate to you the
adventure which brought me here and changed my skin.”
“With all my heart,” said I; whereupon, without further preamble, he
commenced
THE STORY OF THE BLACK PRINCE
“Know, most excellent Solario,” he began, “that my father the King of
Wen called me to him one day, and sitting down with me addressed me as
follows. ‘My son,’ said he--”
_“Is it a long story?” asked the King, yawning behind his hand._
_“It is very interesting,” said the old tailor._
_“Not what I asked,” said the King. “Is it long?”_
_“Well,--well--” said the old man._
_“Then we will hear it another time,” said the King. “Pray let us hear
what happened to you.”_
_The old man bowed, quite crestfallen, and proceeded with his story._
_“Oh, shucks,” said Bojohn to Bodkin._
When the Black Prince had concluded his own tale, he paused, and then
said to me:
“Now, Solario, as to those circumstances of my misfortune which precede
the tale I have just told you, I will, if you consent, call on my good
friend here, who was personally concerned in them, to relate them to
you.”
Whereupon he nodded to my companion, who at once commenced
THE STORY OF THE COURTEOUS STRANGER
“You must know,” he began, “that soon after my arrival at the city of--”
_“What has this got to do with your being enchanted by the witch?” said
the King._
_“Well,” said Solario, “its bearing on what afterward happened to me is
perhaps a little indirect, but I assure your majesty that--”_
_“No, no,” said the King. “I never sit up late, and it’s getting on
toward my bedtime.”_
_The old man sighed._
When the Courteous Stranger had finished his story, the Black Prince
gazed at me for a moment.
“Solario,” said he, “I will tell you the conclusion of the whole matter
in a word. To him who shall deliver me from this spell, I will give
five hundred thousand pieces of gold, of the money of your country.
And, Solario,” he said, bending toward me and pointing at me with his
finger, “I believe you are the man.”
Visions of Solario the tailor as the richest man in Vernicroft flashed
before my eyes, and left me dizzy.
“It is a matter of sewing on a button,” said the Prince. “I am allowed
nine tailors for the trial, on the principle that nine tailors are the
equivalent of one--ahem! I beg your pardon. Eight tailors have already
essayed it, and failed. You are the ninth.”
“And what has become of the other eight?” I asked, with some misgiving.
The Black Prince smiled. “You have already seen them,” said he.
“I?” I exclaimed in amazement.
_Eight Tailors Who Could not Sew on a Single Button_
“Four of them served our table here to-night, and the other four you
have met between your shop and this room.”
“The eight black servants?” I cried.
“Precisely,” said the Prince. “I must tell you, that he who fails comes
himself under the spell, his skin changes to black, and he remains
here with me in my retirement. If you deliver me, you deliver also
these other eight. If you fail, you condemn yourself and all of us to
everlasting misery. You are our final hope. What do you say?”
I was becoming almost lightheaded with the prospect of my reward.
Perhaps the wine had something to do with it; perhaps it was the
Prince’s daughter, who smiled upon me bewitchingly.
“You have already seen my doublet,” said the Prince. “So long as
it remained intact, no harm could touch me. But my enemy, as I have
related to you, succeeded in detaching from it a single button, and
taking away the thread. Instantly all its virtue was gone; I was
helpless. To this mischance I owe all my misery; my happiness hangs on
a button. Take the doublet, Solario, and find the thread which will
withstand sorcery. Three months are allowed you. Here are the doublet
and the button; guard them as you would your life; and may you return
to receive my thanks and the fortune which awaits you.”
With his left hand he placed the doublet and the button in my left
hand. The perfume of the wine seemed to grow heavier; I was very
drowsy; I tried to speak; I could not arouse myself; I was conscious of
the eager smile of the Prince’s daughter, and I knew no more.
When I came to myself, I was in my bed behind the shop, and it was
morning. My first thought was that I had had an unusual dream, but
there on the pillow beside me lay the identical doublet and button,
and I found myself wearing the spangled coat of the evening before. I
jumped up and prepared my breakfast, but I could not eat. A desperate
case I had gotten myself into, indeed! Where on earth should I obtain a
thread which would withstand sorcery? And if I should fail--! I pushed
aside my food and buried my face in my hands.
I heard the bell over my shop door tinkle, as if some customer were
coming in. I paid no attention. Why had I allowed this hopeless
enterprise to be thrust upon me? I was lost.
_The Tailor Is Visited by a Hideous Old Woman_
I heard a cackle of unpleasant laughter. I looked up quickly and saw,
sitting at the opposite side of my table, a little old woman, extremely
hideous of face, hook-nosed, toothless, and wrinkled, munching her gums
and watching me with little, malicious eyes.
The ancient hag did not leave me long in doubt about her business.
“Master tailor,” said she, “the fortune is yours if you will have it.”
Her voice was like nothing so much as the crackling of dry wood in a
brisk fire.
“Never mind what I know nor how I know it,” she went on, answering my
thought before I spoke. “What would you give to know where and how to
obtain the thread which will hold the button?”
“Anything!” I cried. “That is, almost anything.”
“Would you marry?”
I thought of the adorable young lady whom I had seen the night before.
“Willingly!” I said. “That is,--yes, I think--”
“Then I will tell you the condition on which you may have the thread.
You must marry me.”
I looked at the frightful old creature; then I laughed and laughed; I
could not help it. She arose in a great fury, grasped the crooked stick
which she bore with her, and hobbled toward the door.
“You shall never find it!” she said. “No, never! You shall be a black
and penniless outcast! You shall wish you had never been born! You are
lost, lost, lost!”
That terrible prospect sobered me. If this woman could by any chance
save me from such a fate, what price would be too great?
“Come back,” I said, “I will think it over.”
“Speak!” said she. “Will you, or will you not?”
I looked at her. She was very old. She could not live long, at best.
She might not live until the wedding day. And if she should, a man of
my wealth and power could afterward find the means of mitigating the
horrors of such a marriage.
“How do I know you can perform your promise?” I asked.
“You need not perform yours until I have performed mine. Come, master
tailor, will you or will you not?”
“I will,” said I. “On the day when I receive my fortune from the
Prince, I will marry you. Merciful powers!”
“Good,” said she. “Now listen to me. The thread which will hold the
button is the single black hair in the tail of the white unicorn, Alb,
who feeds in the half-moon pasture of Korbi, by the river Tarn. Listen
carefully while I tell you what you must do.”
She then gave me the most minute directions; and when she had finished,
she arose and hobbled to the door.
“Stop!” I said. “Tell me who you are, and where you live, and when I
shall see you again.”
She answered never a word; she was gone.
_The Jolly Mule Driver and His Sing-Song_
I wrote down all I could remember of her instructions, and went out
into the street to cool my burning head. As I stood before the door, I
heard a jingling of little bells, and a voice singing and shouting, and
saw, coming toward me down the street, a train of five or six mules,
driven by a short fellow in a leather jerkin, on foot, who was singing
raucously and shouting lustily to his animals. His face was gay and
humorous, and he cracked his whip merrily.
“Good mules for hire!” he sang. “Good mules for hire! We’ll bring you
to your heart’s desire! We laugh at rain and snow and mire! We never
lag and never tire! We _thread_ our way through ice and fire! Good
mules for hire! Good mules for hire!”
“Thread!” What did he mean by that word? I stared at him, and as he was
passing me he looked at me long and hard, and gave me a slow wink.
A little while later, as I was ironing a piece of goods within doors,
the mule driver himself appeared in the shop.
“At your service, master Solario!” he cried, gayly. “For a long journey
or a short one! If you’re thinking of going a journey, I’m your man!
Come, master Solario, the sun is shining, lock up the shop!”
It seemed a curious piece of good fortune that this fellow should have
appeared almost on the heels of the old woman herself, and the long and
short of it was that I hired him for my journey, at so much per week.
He agreed to provide the necessary outfit, and we would depart that
night.
My preparations were soon made. The notes I had made of the old
woman’s directions I sewed inside my vest. I placed in my strong box
the doublet and the button, and bestowed the box where it could not
be found during my absence. At midnight, my driver appeared. It was a
starry night. I locked the shop, and we mounted our mules. Preceded by
four other animals, packed with our outfit, we quietly moved down the
street, past the last houses, and into the forest. My search for the
white unicorn had begun.
_Adventures in Search of Alb the Unicorn_
From that night until we came in sight of the river Tarn, far beyond
the confines of the Forest Kingdom, the adventures we encountered were
numerous and fearful. We spent weeks on this perilous journey. In the
second week we came to a dark castle on the side of a mountain. We
crossed the drawbridge, which strangely happened to be down, though
it was late at night, and blew the horn which hung by the gate. But
perhaps it will be unnecessary to detail these adventures?
_“Totally unnecessary,” said the King. “I can scarcely restrain my
impatience to know how the story ends.”_
There are several, however, of extraordinary interest, which you might
perhaps be pleased to hear: the adventure of the Roving Griffin, the
adventure of the Blind Giant, the adventure of Montesango’s Cave--
_“Yes, yes,” said Bojohn and Bodkin, in a loud whisper._
_“No,” said the King. “I must beg you to reserve these pleasures for
another occasion. I can’t sit up all night.”_
We reached at last, on a sunshiny morning, the top of a little hill,
from which we looked down on a narrow and shallow river, curved at this
point outward in a crescent, and beyond it we saw a meadow of some
two miles in depth, bounded at the rear by a high cliff, curved also
outward like a crescent, and reaching the river at the right hand and
the left of the meadow. The meadow thus enclosed resembled in shape a
half-moon.
“Ah!” I cried. “The river Tarn and the half-moon pasture of Korbi!”
I left my mule driver, and descended alone to the river. I found a
ford, and though the water reached my shoulders, I had no difficulty in
wading to the other side. I came there upon the pasture I had seen from
the hill. It was green with tall grass, and sprinkled with flowers.
I looked about fearfully, but the unicorn was not in sight. Creeping
cautiously, I made toward the high cliff at the further side of the
meadow. Just before I reached it, I stopped to consult my notes:
“A circle of white stones on the side of the cliff, higher than a man’s
reach. In the center of the circle, a blood-red flower growing on a
long stem.”
_Solario Encounters Alb the Unicorn_
I walked along at the foot of the cliff, and after some ten minutes
descried above me the circle of white stones. The wall was perfectly
upright, but its surface was rugged enough to give promise of a
foothold. I turned my head, and at that instant saw, a short distance
away, farther down the line of the cliff, standing knee-deep in the
grass and flowers, a small horse, pure white, with a pure white mane
and tail, and a sharp-pointed horn in the middle of his forehead.
[Illustration: The unicorn stamped and gave a piercing neigh]
As he saw me, he stamped his hoof and threw his head high. I started
for the cliff; he made for the same point, as if to intercept me. I
knew that against that sharp horn I should be helpless; it was now a
matter of life and death. I ran with all my might; the unicorn came on
at a gallop; we approached the foot of the cliff together; his head was
down, and I could already in imagination feel his horn in my side; I
doubled my exertions; I reached the cliff, and leaped up on the rocks
just out of his reach, as he swept by me; I was safe.
I clung to my perch panting, and then painfully climbed to the circle
of white stones. There, in its center, was the blood-red flower. The
unicorn was standing below, watching me. When he saw me bend toward the
flower, he stamped, shook his mane, and gave a long piercing neigh,
as a horse will when he is in pain. I plucked the flower at the root.
The unicorn’s excitement was extraordinary. He pranced and bounded,
shrieking in a manner almost human. I shivered at the thought of going
down to him, but it had to be done. I descended carefully, holding the
flower out in the unicorn’s view. His shrieks subsided into a moaning
cry. He shook his head up and down, as if under some strong command. I
reached the ground.
I paused there for a moment, for I confess I was desperately afraid.
Little by little I advanced to him, holding out the flower. He pranced
and whined. I came within arm’s length of his head, and held the flower
before his mouth. With a quiver which shook his whole body, he seized
it in his teeth. I quickly ran to his tail, and searched there for the
single black hair, keeping well away from his heels. Covered by the
brush of white hair I found it. I seized it and gave it a mighty jerk.
Out it came into my hand.
The unicorn trembled and tottered; and there in his place before my
eyes stood a handsome young man, clad in a suit of soft and exquisite
white leather. He fell on his knees before me and kissed my hand.
“Thanks, brave deliverer!” he cried. “The enchantment is broken! I am
myself again! How glorious to be free!”
I raised him from the ground, and led him to a convenient place, where
we sat down and conversed. I placed the precious black hair securely
in the lining of my vest. If I on my part was overjoyed, the young man
was positively beside himself. He laughed and cried by turns. I was of
course intensely curious as to the circumstances of his enchantment.
He willingly consented to relate them to me, and as soon as he had
composed himself a little he began
THE STORY OF THE WHITE UNICORN
“I was born,” said the young man, “in the Island Kingdom, far out in
the Great Sea, the only son of a rich--”
_“Never mind, never mind,” interrupted the King; “not now, some other
time. It’s my bedtime. Get on with your own story. We’ve no time now to
listen to--”_
_“My dear,” said the Queen, sweetly, “perhaps if you’d--”_
_“Some other time,” said the King. “Not now, not now.”_
_“Oh, botheration,” said Bojohn to Bodkin. “He won’t let us hear
anything.”_
_“I think it’s too bad,” said Bodkin to Bojohn._
_The old man in the spangled coat sighed profoundly._
When the young man had finished his tale, the day was far advanced. I
wished to take him back with me to Vernicroft, but he was anxious to
return to the Island Kingdom without losing a moment; we crossed the
river together, and parted. I have never seen him since.
We made good speed homeward; all our difficulties seemed to have
vanished. At first, I was saddened by the thought of my approaching
marriage to the hideous and hateful old hag; but a new thought began
to take possession of me, and grew stronger as we rode along from day
to day, and my heart soon became lighter. Master as I was of such a
key to power as lay secure within my vest, I could marry whom I chose.
Why should I marry the ugliest creature I had ever seen, when the most
beautiful might be mine for the asking? The more I thought of it, the
more indignant I became at the manner in which my easy good nature had
been imposed on at every hand; I had been grossly overreached; the
bargain was beyond measure unconscionable; the exquisite face of the
Prince’s daughter haunted me day and night-- And in short, when we
arrived at Vernicroft, my mind was made up; I would _not_ marry the old
woman, and I would exact from the Prince a reward far more suitable
than the one he had promised.
It was just on the stroke of midnight when we reached my shop. I left
my driver on the sill, and procuring the necessary gold within, paid
him off and dismissed him. He was a merry fellow, and had served me
well, though I must say that I had never learned to like his way of
cooking beans. He bade me a gay farewell, and as I turned back into the
shop I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see him with his mules
on his way down the street. To my astonishment, there was positively
nothing in sight; the street was empty; in that moment the driver and
his animals had vanished.
I entered the shop. The journey had cost me all the savings of my
lifetime. But what did it matter? I was about to become rich beyond all
my dreams. I lit my lamp and looked about me. There, beside my tailor’s
bench, sat the old woman herself. Her hands rested on the head of her
crooked stick, and her toothless jaws were working.
“Well,” she said, “you have it?”
“Yes,” said I, “I have it.”
“Good,” said she. “The Prince’s friend has been here many times. He
will come to-morrow. I will return to claim you afterward. Good.”
She rose, leaned on her stick, and nodding her head and grinning to
herself hobbled out of the shop. My resolution to save myself from this
outrageous creature became absolutely fixed.
_The Button Is Sewed on with the Unicorn’s Hair_
I drew out the black hair of the unicorn’s tail, and gave myself up to
the pleasant task of sewing on the button. It was soon done, and it was
well done. Nothing could be more secure. I placed the doublet under my
pillow and went to bed.
In the morning I arose with a light heart. In order that the doublet
might be near me, I put it on; and during the day three accidents
proved its quality. First, a hot iron with which I was pressing my
spangled coat slipped from my right hand and came down squarely on my
left, and I felt no pain whatever. Next, a needle pricked my finger,
and I was aware of no inconvenience. And last, as I was standing in the
doorway, some wicked boys, with whom I was never a favorite, hurled a
stone at me, striking me violently on the temple; but its effect was no
more than that of a soft cushion. Undoubtedly the unicorn’s hair was
the authentic thread.
At nightfall, after I had put up my shutters, I stored the doublet
secretly away, and was making ready to go to bed, when a knock sounded
at the door, and I admitted the Prince’s friend, smiling and gracious
as before. He looked inquiringly at me. I bowed and smiled.
“Yes,” I said, “the work is done.”
“The thread?” he cried.
“I have it, never fear! The work is done.”
He was in a state of great excitement.
“Come!” he cried. “The carriage is at the door. Bring it with you.
Hurry!”
In a moment I was in his carriage, with a bundle under my arm. We
stopped at the same place as before, and reached by the same route the
room where I had first seen the Prince and his daughter. They arose in
agitation as I came in, and at a joyful signal from my companion came
forward and grasped my hands. Truly the lady was more beautiful than I
had dreamed.
“You have succeeded?” said the Prince.
“I have!” said I. “Your deliverance is assured!” And I described the
accidents from which the doublet had protected me that day.
“Let us sit down,” said the Prince; and when we were all seated, with
fruit and wine before us, he begged me to tell my story.
I told as much as I thought fit, omitting any mention of the old woman.
The Prince desired to see the doublet. With my left hand I placed in
his left the package I had brought with me. He opened it and held up
the contents. Alas, it was not the doublet at all, but some indifferent
garment intended for another client!
He looked at me in amazement. I was covered with confusion, and begged
him to overlook my carelessness. He listened coldly.
“You will bring the doublet here to-morrow,” he said sternly.
“That is understood,” I said. “Meanwhile,” I went on, fortifying
myself with another glass of the perfumed wine, “we may as well discuss
the question of my reward.”
“That,” said the Prince, “is already settled.”
“The case is altered,” I said. “If I had known what lay before me,
I could have made more fitting terms; but I was in the dark; the
dangers and exertions of my existence since then have changed the case
completely. I am sure that you do not wish to deal with me unjustly.
Think what my service means to you! In your place, I should think
nothing too precious for my deliverer.”
A dark frown came over the Prince’s face.
“What is it you demand?” said he.
_The Prince Receives the Tailor’s Terms_
“I demand nothing,” said I. “But if you wish to have the doublet and
be restored to yourself, your country, and your people, I shall ask
only three things: one million pieces of gold, this house, and your
daughter’s hand in marriage.”
All three jumped to their feet. I sat calmly. At a look from the
Prince, his daughter and the Courteous Stranger sat down again. They
were both very pale.
“These are your terms?” said the Prince. “You are resolved on this?”
“Inflexibly,” I said.
“Then we must consider,” said he. “When you bring the doublet to-morrow
you shall have my answer. For the present, let us dismiss the subject.”
His command of himself was superb. He began to talk lightly on
indifferent subjects, and as he talked his voice became gradually more
distant, and I grew drowsy; I knew I was falling asleep. I remember
nothing more until I awoke the next morning in my own bed.
To my surprise, the old woman did not appear at all on that day. On
the whole, the time passed pleasantly. I had no doubt the Prince would
accept my terms. I reveled in the happiness which was so soon to be
mine.
At night, dressed in my spangled coat, and with a bundle under my arm,
I sat in the shop waiting for my stranger. I was too wise to take
with me the true doublet, and you may be sure the bundle contained a
substitute. It would be time enough to deliver the magic garment at the
wedding. It reposed meanwhile under lock and key, concealed beyond the
possibility of discovery.
It was late when the stranger appeared. He conducted me to the Prince
and his daughter in chilly silence. The Prince was standing, and his
daughter sat on the divan, her chin in her hand.
“You have brought the doublet?” said the Prince.
“First,” I said, “do you accept the terms?”
“I must see the doublet,” he said.
With my left hand I placed the bundle in his left hand. He opened it.
When he saw its contents, he turned on me with a face like a thunder
cloud.
“What!” said I. “Another accident? Well, it’s of no consequence. The
doublet is safe, perfectly safe. It will be placed in your hands--_at
the wedding_. Do you consent?”
_The Magic Doublet Is Suddenly Produced_
He clapped his hands. A door opened behind the divan, and--I could
scarcely believe my eyes--in hobbled, with her crooked stick, the
old woman whom I had pledged myself to marry. I was speechless with
astonishment. The Prince clapped his hands again. From other doors
entered the eight black tailors whom I had seen before. The ancient hag
approached the Prince, and drew forth from her dress the doublet which
I had left securely locked and hidden at home! I saw it closely; it
could be no other. With her left hand she laid it in the left hand of
the Prince.
In an instant he had put it on. When he had buttoned the last button, a
startling change came over him and the eight black tailors. All their
faces grew a mottled blue, then red, and then the natural color of
healthy white skin.