{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_19734/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_19734","id":"gutenberg_19734","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19734","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Fairy tales","Folklore"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                           THE FAIRY BOOK.\n\n                  THE BEST POPULAR STORIES SELECTED\n                          AND RENDERED ANEW.\n\n\n\n                                  BY\n\n                             MISS MULOCK\n\n                            THE AUTHOR OF\n                      \"JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.\"\n\n\n\n\n                         NEW YORK AND LONDON:\n                    HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATED\n\nTO\n\nLITTLE OLIVE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nA preface is usually an excrescence on a good book, and a vain apology\nfor a worthless one; but, in the present instance, a few explanatory\nwords seem necessary.\n\nThis is meant to be the best collection attainable of that delight of\nall children, and of many grown people who retain the child-heart\nstill--the old-fashioned, time-honored classic Fairy-tale. It has been\ncompiled from all sources--far-off and familiar; when familiar, the\nstories have been traced with care to their original form, which, if\nforeign, has been retranslated, condensed, and in any other needful\nway made suitable for modern British children. Perrault, Madame\nd'Aulnois, and Grimm have thus been laid under contribution. Where it\nwas not possible to get at the original of a tale, its various\nversions have been collated, compared, and combined; and in some\ninstances, when this proved still unsatisfactory, the whole story has\nbeen written afresh. The few English fairy tales extant, such as _Jack\nthe Giant Killer, Tom Thumb_, etc., whose authorship is lost in\nobscurity, but whose charming Saxon simplicity of style, and intense\nrealism of narration, make for them an ever-green immortality--these\nhave been left intact, for no later touch would improve them. All\nmodern stories have been excluded.\n\nOf course, in fairy tales, instruction is not expected; we find in\nthem only the rude moral of virtue rewarded and vice punished. But\nchildren will soon discover for themselves that in real life all\nbeautiful people are not good, nor all ugly ones wicked; that every\nelder sister is not ungenerous, nor every stepmother cruel. And the\ntender baby-heart is often reached quite as soon by the fancy as by\nthe reason. Nevertheless, without any direct appeal to conscience or\nmorality, the Editor of this collection has been especially careful\nthat there should be nothing in it which could really harm a child.\n\nShe trusts that, whatever its defects, the Fairy Book will not deserve\none criticism, almost the sharpest that can be given to any\nwork--\"that it would have been better if the author had taken more\npains.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD\n\nHOP-O'-MY-THUMB\n\nCINDERELLA; OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER\n\nADVENTURES OF JOHN DIETRICH\n\nBEAUTY AND THE BEAST\n\nLITTLE ONE EYE, LITTLE TWO EYES, AND LITTLE THREE EYES\n\nJACK THE GIANT KILLER\n\nTOM THUMB\n\nRUMPELSTILZCHEN\n\nFORTUNATUS\n\nTHE BREMEN TOWN MUSICIANS\n\nRIQUET WITH THE TUFT\n\nHOUSE ISLAND\n\nSNOW-WHITE AND ROSE RED\n\nJACK AND THE BEAN-STALK\n\nGRACIOSA AND PERCINET\n\nTHE IRON STOVE\n\nTHE INVISIBLE PRINCE\n\nTHE WOODCUTTER'S DAUGHTER\n\nBROTHER AND SISTER\n\nLITTLE RED-RIDING-HOOD\n\nPUSS IN BOOTS\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE SEVEN YOUNG GOSLINGS\n\nTHE FAIR ONE WITH GOLDEN LOOKS\n\nTHE BUTTERFLY\n\nTHE FROG-PRINCE\n\nTHE WHITE CAT\n\nPRINCE CHERRY\n\nLITTLE SNOWDROP\n\nTHE BLUE BIRD\n\nTHE YELLOW DWARF\n\nTHE SIX SWANS\n\nTHE PRINCE WITH THE NOSE\n\nTHE HIND OF THE FOREST\n\nTHE JUNIPER TREE\n\nCLEVER ALICE\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nSLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD.\n\n\nOnce there was a royal couple who grieved excessively because they had\nno children. When at last, after long waiting, the queen presented her\nhusband with a little daughter, his majesty showed his joy by giving a\nchristening feast, so grand that the like of it was never known. He\ninvited all the fairies in the land--there were seven altogether--to\nstand godmothers to the little princess; hoping that each might bestow\non her some good gift, as was the custom of good fairies in those\ndays.\n\nAfter the ceremony, all the guests returned to the palace, where there\nwas set before each fairy-godmother a magnificent covered dish, with\nan embroidered table-napkin, and a knife and fork of pure gold,\nstudded with diamonds and rubies. But alas! as they placed themselves\nat table, there entered an old fairy who had never been invited,\nbecause more than fifty years since she had left the king's dominion\non a tour of pleasure, and had not been heard of until this day. His\nmajesty, much troubled, desired a cover to be placed for her, but it\nwas of common delf, for he had ordered from his jeweller only seven\ngold dishes for the seven fairies aforesaid. The elderly fairy thought\nherself neglected, and muttered angry menaces, which were overheard by\none of the younger fairies, who chanced to sit beside her. This good\ngodmother, afraid of harm to the pretty baby, hastened to hide herself\nbehind the tapestry in the hall. She did this, because she wished all\nthe others to speak first--so that if any ill gift were bestowed on\nthe child, she might be able to counteract it.\n\nThe six now offered their good wishes--which, unlike most wishes, were\nsure to come true. The fortunate little princess was to grow up the\nfairest woman in the world; to have a temper sweet as an angel; to be\nperfectly graceful and gracious; to sing like a nightingale; to dance\nlike a leaf on a tree; and to possess every accomplishment under the\nsun. Then the old fairy's turn came. Shaking her head spitefully, she\nuttered the wish that when the baby grew up into a young lady, and\nlearned to spin, she might prick her finger with the spindle and die\nof the wound.\n\nAt this terrible prophecy all the guests shuddered; and some of the\nmore tender-hearted began to weep. The lately happy parents were\nalmost out of their wits with grief. Upon which the wise young fairy\nappeared from behind the tapestry, saying cheerfully \"Your majesties\nmay comfort yourselves; the princess shall not die. I have no power\nto alter the ill-fortune just wished her by my ancient sister--her\nfinger must be pierced; and she shall then sink, not into the sleep of\ndeath, but into a sleep that will last a hundred years. After that\ntime is ended, the son of a king will find her, awaken her, and marry\nher.\"\n\nImmediately all the fairies vanished.\n\nThe king, in the hope of avoiding his daughter's doom, issued an\nedict, forbidding all persons to spin, and even to have\nspinning-wheels in their houses, on pain of instant death. But it was\nin vain. One day, when she was just fifteen years of age, the king and\nqueen left their daughter alone in one of their castles, when,\nwandering about at her will, she came to an ancient donjon tower,\nclimbed to the top of it, and there found a very old woman--so old and\ndeaf that she had never heard of the king's edict--busy with her\nwheel.\n\n\"What are you doing, good old woman?\" said the princess.\n\n\"I'm spinning, my pretty child.\"\n\n\"Ah, how charming! Let me try if I can spin also.\"\n\nShe had no sooner taken up the spindle than, being lively and\nobstinate, she handled it so awkwardly and carelessly that the point\npierced her finger. Though it was so small a wound, she fainted away\nat once, and dropped silently down on the floor. The poor frightened\nold woman called for help; shortly came the ladies in waiting, who\ntried every means to restore their young mistress, but all their care\nwas useless. She lay, beautiful as an angel, the colour still\nlingering in her lips and cheeks; her fair bosom softly stirred with\nher breath: only her eyes were fast closed. When the king her father\nand the queen her mother beheld her thus, they knew regret was\nidle--all had happened as the cruel fairy meant. But they also knew\nthat their daughter would not sleep for ever, though after one hundred\nyears it was not likely they would either of them behold her\nawakening. Until that happy hour should arrive, they determined to\nleave her in repose. They sent away all the physicians and attendants,\nand themselves sorrowfully laid her upon a bed of embroidery, in the\nmost elegant apartment of the palace. There she slept and looked like\na sleeping angel still.\n\nWhen this misfortune happened, the kindly young fairy who had saved\nthe princess by changing her sleep of death into this sleep of a\nhundred years, was twelve thousand leagues away in the kingdom of\nMataquin. But being informed of everything, she arrived speedily, in a\nchariot of fire drawn by dragons. The king was somewhat startled by\nthe sight, but nevertheless went to the door of his palace, and, with\na mournful countenance, presented her his hand to descend.\n\nThe fairy condoled with his majesty, and approved of all he had done.\nThen, being a fairy of great common sense and foresight, she suggested\nthat the princess, awakening after a hundred years in this ancient\ncastle, might be a good deal embarrassed, especially with a young\nprince by her side, to find herself alone. Accordingly, without asking\nany one's leave, she touched with her magic wand the entire population\nof the palace--except the king and queen; governesses, ladies of\nhonour, waiting-maids, gentlemen ushers, cooks, kitchen-girls, pages,\nfootmen--down to the horses that were in the stables, and the grooms\nthat attended them, she touched each and all. Nay, with kind\nconsideration for the feelings of the princess, she even touched the\nlittle fat lap-dog, Puffy, who had laid himself down beside his\nmistress on her splendid bed. He, like all the rest, fell fast asleep\nin a moment. The very spits that were before the kitchen-fire ceased\nturning, and the fire itself went out, and everything became as silent\nas if it were the middle of the night, or as if the palace were a\npalace of the dead.\n\nThe king and queen--having kissed their daughter and wept over her a\nlittle, but not much, she looked so sweet and content--departed from\nthe castle, giving orders that it was to be approached no more. The\ncommand was unnecessary; for in one quarter of an hour there sprung up\naround it a wood so thick and thorny that neither beasts nor men could\nattempt to penetrate there. Above this dense mass of forest could only\nbe perceived the top of the high tower where the lovely princess\nslept.\n\nA great many changes happen in a hundred years. The king, who never\nhad a second child, died, and his throne passed into another royal\nfamily. So entirely was the story of the poor princess forgotten, that\nwhen the reigning king's son, being one day out hunting and stopped in\nthe chase by this formidable wood, inquired what wood it was and what\nwere those towers which he saw appearing out of the midst of it, no\none could answer him. At length an old peasant was found who\nremembered having heard his grandfather say to his father, that in\nthis tower was a princess, beautiful as the day, who was doomed to\nsleep there for one hundred years, until awakened by a king's son, her\ndestined bridegroom.\n\nAt this, the young prince, who had the spirit of a hero, determined to\nfind out the truth for himself. Spurred on by both generosity and\ncuriosity, he leaped from his horse and began to force his way through\nthe thick wood. To his amazement the stiff branches all gave way, and\nthe ugly thorns sheathed themselves of their own accord, and the\nbrambles buried themselves in the earth to let him pass. This done,\nthey closed behind him, allowing none of his suite to follow: but,\nardent and young, he went boldly on alone. The first thing he saw was\nenough to smite him with fear. Bodies of men and horses lay extended\non the ground; but the men had faces, not death-white, but red as\npeonies, and beside them were glasses half filled with wine, showing\nthat they had gone to sleep drinking. Next he entered a large court,\npaved with marble, where stood rows of guards presenting arms, but\nmotionless as if cut out of stone; then he passed through many\nchambers where gentlemen and ladies, all in the costume of the past\ncentury, slept at their ease, some standing, some sitting. The pages\nwere lurking in corners, the ladies of honour were stooping over their\nembroidery frames, or listening apparently with polite attention to\nthe gentlemen of the court, but all were as silent as statues and as\nimmoveable. Their clothes, strange to say, were fresh and new as ever:\nand not a particle of dust or spider-web had gathered over the\nfurniture, though it had not known a broom for a hundred years.\nFinally the astonished prince came to an inner chamber, where was the\nfairest sight his eyes had ever beheld.\n\nA young girl of wonderful beauty lay asleep on an embroidered bed, and\nshe looked as if she had only just closed her eyes. Trembling, the\nprince approached and knelt beside her. Some say he kissed her, but as\nnobody saw it, and she never told, we cannot be quite sure of the\nfact. However, as the end of the enchantment had come, the princess\nawakened at once, and looking at him with eyes of the tenderest\nregard, said drowsily, \"Is it you, my prince? I have waited for you\nvery long.\"\n\nCharmed with these words, and still more with the tone in which they\nwere uttered, the prince assured her that he loved her more than his\nlife. Nevertheless, he was the most embarrassed of the two; for,\nthanks to the kind fairy, the princess had plenty of time to dream of\nhim during her century of slumber, while he had never even heard of\nher till an hour before. For a long time did they sit conversing, and\nyet had not said half enough. Their only interruption was the little\ndog Puffy, who had awakened with his mistress, and now began to be\nexceedingly jealous that the princess did not notice him as much as\nshe was wont to do.\n\nMeantime all the attendants, whose enchantment was also broken, not\nbeing in love, were ready to die of hunger after their fast of a\nhundred years. A lady of honour ventured to intimate that dinner was\nserved; whereupon the prince handed his beloved princess at once to\nthe great hall. She did not wait to dress for dinner, being already\nperfectly and magnificently attired, though in a fashion somewhat out\nof date. However, her lover had the politeness not to notice this, nor\nto remind her that she was dressed exactly like her royal grandmother,\nwhose portrait still hung on the palace walls.\n\nDuring the banquet a concert took place by the attendant musicians,\nand considering they had not touched their instruments for a century\nthey played extremely well. They ended with a wedding march: for that\nvery evening the marriage of the prince and princess was celebrated,\nand though the bride was nearly one hundred years older than the\nbridegroom, it is remarkable that the fact would never have been\ndiscovered by any one unacquainted therewith.\n\nAfter a few days they went together out of the castle and enchanted\nwood, both of which immediately vanished, and were never more beheld\nby mortal eyes. The princess was restored to her ancestral kingdom,\nbut it was not generally declared who she was, as during a hundred\nyears people had grown so very much cleverer that nobody then living\nwould ever have believed the story. So nothing was explained, and\nnobody presumed to ask any questions about her, for ought not a prince\nbe able to marry whomsoever he pleases?\n\nNor--whether or not the day of fairies was over--did the princess ever\nsee anything further of her seven godmothers. She lived a long and\nhappy life, like any other ordinary woman, and died at length,\nbeloved, regretted, but, the prince being already no more, perfectly\ncontented.\n\n\n\n\nHOP-O'-MY-THUMB.\n\n\nThere once lived in a village a faggot-maker and his wife, who had\nseven children, all boys; the eldest was no more than ten years old,\nand the youngest was only seven.\n\nIt was odd enough, to be sure, that they should have so many children\nin such a short time; but the truth is, the wife always brought him\ntwo and once three at a time. This made him very poor, for not one of\nthese boys was old enough to get a living, and what was still worse,\nthe youngest was a puny little fellow who hardly ever spoke a word.\nNow this, indeed, was a mark of his good sense, but it made his father\nand mother suppose him to be silly, and they thought that at last he\nwould turn out quite a fool. This boy was the least size ever seen;\nfor when he was born he was no bigger than a man's thumb, which made\nhim be christened by the name of Hop-o'-my-thumb. The poor child was\nthe drudge of the whole house and always bore the blame of everything\nthat was done wrong. For all this, Hop-o'-my-thumb was far more clever\nthan any of his brothers; and though he spoke but little, he heard and\nknew more than people thought. It happened just at this time, that for\nwant of rain the fields had grown but half as much corn and potatoes\nas they used to grow; so that the faggot-maker and his wife could not\ngive the boys the food they had before, which was always either bread\nor potatoes.\n\nAfter the father and mother had grieved some time, they thought that\nas they could contrive no other way to live, they must somehow get rid\nof their children. One night when the boys were gone to bed, and the\nfaggot-maker and his wife were sitting over a few lighted sticks, to\nwarm themselves, the husband sighed deeply, and said, \"You see, my\ndear, we cannot maintain our children any longer, and to see them die\nof hunger before my eyes is what I could never bear. I will,\ntherefore, to-morrow morning take them to the forest, and leave them\nin the thickest part of it, so that they will not be able to find\ntheir way back: this will be very easy; for while they amuse\nthemselves with tying up the faggots, we need only slip away when they\nare looking some other way.\"\n\n\"Ah! husband,\" cried the poor wife, \"you cannot, no, you never can\nconsent to be the death of your own children.\"\n\nThe husband in vain told her to think how very poor they were.\n\nThe wife replied \"that this was true, to be sure; but if she was poor,\nshe was still their mother;\" and then she cried as if her heart would\nbreak. At last she thought how shocking it would be to see them\nstarved to death before their eyes; so she agreed to what her husband\nhad said, and then went sobbing to bed.\n\nHop-o'-my-thumb had been awake all the time; and when he heard his\nfather talk very seriously, he slipped away from his brothers' side,\nand crept under his father's bed, to hear all that was said without\nbeing seen.\n\nWhen his father and mother had left off talking, he got back to his\nown place, and passed the night in thinking what he should do the next\nmorning.\n\nHe rose early, and ran to the river's side, where he filled his\npockets with small white pebbles, and then went back home. In the\nmorning they all set out, as their father and mother had agreed on;\nand Hop-o'-my-thumb did not say a word to any of his brothers about\nwhat he had heard. They came to a forest that was so very thick that\nthey could not see each other a few yards off. The faggot-maker set to\nwork cutting down wood; and the children began to gather the twigs, to\nmake faggots of them.\n\nWhen the father and mother saw that the young ones were all very busy,\nthey slipped away without being seen. The children soon found\nthemselves alone, and began to cry as loud as they could.\nHop-o'-my-thumb let them cry on, for he knew well enough how to lead\nthem safe home, an he had taken care to drop the white pebbles he had\nin his pocket along all the way he had come. He only said to them,\n\"Never mind it, my lads: father and mother have left us here by\nourselves, but only take care to follow me, and I will lead you back\nagain.\"\n\nWhen they heard this they left off crying, and followed\nHop-o'-my-thumb, who soon brought them to their father's house by the\nvery same path which they had come along. At first they had not the\ncourage to go in; but stood at the door to hear what their parents\nwere talking about. Just as the faggot-maker and his wife had come\nhome without their children, a great gentleman of the village sent to\npay them two guineas, for work they had done for him, which he had\nowed them so long that they never thought of getting a farthing of it.\nThis money made them quite happy; for the poor creatures were very\nhungry, and had no other way of getting anything to eat.\n\nThe faggot-maker sent his wife out immediately to buy some meat; and\nas it was a long time since she had made a hearty meal, she bought as\nmuch meat as would have been enough for six or eight persons. The\ntruth was, when she was thinking what would be enough for dinner, she\nforgot that her children were not at home; but as soon as she and her\nhusband had done eating, she cried out, \"Alas! where are our poor\nchildren? how they would feast on what we have left! It was all your\nfault, husband! I told you we should repent leaving them to starve in\nthe forest!--Oh mercy! perhaps they have already been eaten by the\nhungry wolves!\" The poor woman shed plenty of tears: \"Alas! alas!\"\nsaid she, over and over again, \"what is become of my dear children?\"\n\nThe children, who were all at the door, cried out together, \"Here we\nare, mother, here we are!\"\n\nShe flew like lightning to let them in, and kissed every one of them.\n\nThe faggot-maker and his wife were charmed at having their children\nonce more with them, and their joy for this lasted till their money\nwas all spent; but then they found themselves quite as ill off as\nbefore. So by degrees they again thought of leaving them in the\nforest: and that the young ones might not come back a second time,\nthey said they would take them a great deal farther than they did at\nfirst. They could not talk about this matter so slily but that\nHop-o'-my-thumb found means to hear all that passed between them; but\nhe cared very little about it, for he thought it would be easy for him\nto do just the same as he had done before. But though he got up very\nearly the next morning to go to the river's side to get the pebbles, a\nthing which he had not thought of hindered him; for he found that the\nhouse-door was double-locked. Hop-o'-my-thumb was now quite at a loss\nwhat to do; but soon after this, his mother gave each of the children\na piece of bread for breakfast, and then it came into his head that he\ncould make his share do as well as the pebbles, by dropping crumbs of\nit all the way as he went. So he did not eat his piece, but put it\ninto his pocket.\n\nIt was not long before they all set out, and their parents took care\nto lead them into the very thickest and darkest part of the forest.\nThey then slipped away by a by-path as before, and left the children\nby themselves again. All this did not give Hop-o'-my-thumb any\nconcern, for he thought himself quite sure of getting back by means\nof the crumbs that he had dropped by the way; but when he came to look\nfor them he found that not a crumb was left, for the birds had eaten\nthem all up.\n\nThe poor children were now sadly off, for the further they went the\nharder it was for them to get out of the forest. At last night came\non, and the noise of the wind among the trees seemed to them like the\nhowling of wolves, so that every moment they thought they should be\neaten up. They hardly dared to speak a word, or to move a limb, for\nfear. Soon after there came a heavy rain, which wetted them to the\nvery skin, and made the ground so slippery, that they fell down almost\nat every step, and got dirty all over.\n\nBefore it was quite dark, Hop-o'-my-thumb climbed up to the top of a\ntree, and looked round on all sides to see if he could find any way of\ngetting help. He saw a small light, like that of a candle, but it was\na very great way off, and beyond the forest. He then came down from\nthe tree, to try to find the way to it; but he could not see it when\nhe was on the ground, and he was in the utmost trouble what to do\nnext. They walked on towards the place where he had seen the light,\nand at last reached the end of the forest, and got sight of it again.\nThey now walked faster; and after being much tired and vexed (for\nevery time they got into lower ground they lost sight of the light),\ncame to the house it was in. They knocked at the door, which was\nopened by a very good-natured-looking lady, who asked what brought\nthem there. Hop-o'-my-thumb told her that they were poor children, who\nhad lost their way in the forest, and begged that she would give them\na bed till morning. When the lady saw that they had such pretty faces,\nshe began to shed tears and said, \"Ah! my poor children, you do not\nknow what place you are come to. This is the house of an Ogre, who\neats up little boys and girls.\"\n\n\"Alas! madam,\" replied Hop-o'-my-thumb, who trembled from head to\nfoot, \"what shall we do? If we go back to the forest, we are sure of\nbeing torn to pieces by the wolves; we would rather, therefore, be\neaten by the gentleman: besides, when he sees us, perhaps he may take\npity on us and spare our lives.\"\n\nThe Ogre's wife thought she could contrive to hide them from her\nhusband till morning; so she let them go in and warm themselves by a\ngood fire, before which there was a whole sheep roasting for the\nOgre's supper. When they had stood a short time by the fire, there\ncame a loud knocking at the door: this was the Ogre come home. His\nwife hurried the children under the bed, and told them to lie still,\nand she then let her husband in.\n\nThe Ogre asked if supper were ready, and if the wine were fetched from\nthe cellar; and then he sat down at the table. The sheep was not quite\ndone, but he liked it much better half raw. In a minute or two the\nOgre began to snuff to his right and left, and said he smelt child's\nflesh.\n\n\"It must be this calf which has just been killed,\" said his wife.\n\n\"I smell child's flesh, I tell thee once more,\" cried the Ogre,\nlooking all about the room; \"I smell child's flesh; there is something\ngoing on that I do not know of.\"\n\nAs soon as he had spoken these words, he rose from his chair and went\ntowards the bed.\n\n\"Ah! madam,\" said he, \"you thought to cheat me, did you? Wretch! thou\nart old and tough thyself, or else I would eat thee up too! But come,\ncome, this is lucky enough; for the brats will make a nice dish for\nthree Ogres, who are my particular friends, and who are to dine with\nme to-morrow.\"\n\nHe then drew them out one by one from under the bed. The poor children\nfell on their knees and begged his pardon as humbly as they could; but\nthis Ogre was the most cruel of all Ogres, and instead of feeling any\npity, he only began to think how sweet and tender their flesh would\nbe; so he told his wife they would be nice morsels, if she served them\nup with plenty of sauce. He then fetched a large knife, and began to\nsharpen it on a long whetstone that he held in his left hand; and all\nthe while he came nearer and nearer to the bed. The Ogre took up one\nof the children, and was going to set about cutting him to pieces; but\nhis wife said to him, \"What in the world makes you take the trouble of\nkilling them to-night? Will it not be time enough to-morrow morning?\"\n\n\"Hold your prating,\" replied the Ogre; \"they will grow tender by being\nkept a little while after they are killed.\"\n\n\"But,\" said his wife, \"you have got so much meat in the house already;\nhere is a calf, two sheep and half a pig.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the Ogre, \"so give them all a good supper, that they may\nnot get lean, and then send them to bed.\"\n\nThe good creature was quite glad at this. She gave them plenty for\ntheir supper, but the poor children were so terrified that they could\nnot eat a bit.\n\nThe Ogre sat down to his wine, very much pleased with the thought of\ngiving his friends such a dainty dish: this made him drink rather more\nthan common, and he was soon obliged to go to bed himself. Now the\nOgre had seven daughters, who were all very young like Hop-o'-my-thumb\nand his brothers. These young Ogresses had fair skins, because they\nfed on raw meat like their father; but they had small grey eyes, quite\nround, and sunk in their heads, hooked noses, wide mouths, and very\nlong sharp teeth standing a great way off each other. They were too\nyoung as yet to do much mischief; but they showed that if they lived\nto be as old as their father, they would grow quite as cruel as he\nwas, for they took pleasure already in biting young children, and\nsucking their blood. The Ogresses had been put to bed very early that\nnight; they were all in one bed, which was very large, and every one\nof them had a crown of gold on her head. There was another bed of the\nsame size in the room, and in this the Ogre's wife put the seven\nlittle boys, and then went to bed herself along with her husband.\n\nNow Hop-o'-my-thumb was afraid that the Ogre would wake in the night\nand kill him and his brothers while they were asleep. So he got out of\nbed in the middle of the night as softly as he could, took off all his\nbrothers' nightcaps and his own, and crept with them to the bed that\nthe Ogre's daughters were in: he then took off their crowns, and put\nthe nightcaps on their heads instead: next he put the crowns on his\nbrothers' heads and his own, and got into bed again; expecting, after\nthis, that, if the Ogre should come, he would take him and his\nbrothers for his own children. Everything turned out as he wished. The\nOgre waked soon after midnight, and began to be very sorry that he had\nput off killing the boys till the morning: so he jumped out of bed,\nand took hold of his large knife. \"Let us see,\" said he, \"what the\nyoung rogues are about, and do the business at once!\" He then walked\nsoftly to the room where they all slept, and went up to the bed the\nboys were in, who were all asleep except Hop-o'-my-thumb. He touched\ntheir heads one at a time, and feeling the crowns of gold, said to\nhimself, \"Oh, oh! I had like to have made such a mistake. I must have\ndrunk too much wine last night.\"\n\nHe went next to the bed that his own little Ogresses were in, and when\nhe felt the nightcaps, he said, \"Ah! here you are, my lads:\" and so in\na moment he cut the throats of all his daughters.\n\nHe was very much pleased when he had done this, and then went back to\nhis own bed. As soon as Hop-o'-my-thumb heard him snore, he awoke his\nbrothers, and told them to put on their clothes quickly, and follow\nhim. They stole down softly into the garden, and then jumped from the\nwall into the road: they ran as fast as their legs could carry them,\nbut were so much afraid all the while, that they hardly knew which way\nto take. When the Ogre waked in the morning, he said to his wife,\ngrinning, \"My dear, go and dress the young rogues I saw last night.\"\n\nThe wife was quite surprised at hearing her husband speak so kindly,\nand did not dream of the real meaning of his words. She supposed he\nwanted her to help them to put on their clothes; so she went upstairs,\nand the first thing she saw was her seven daughters with their throats\ncut and all over blood. This threw her into a fainting fit. The Ogre\nwas afraid his wife might be too long in doing what he had set her\nabout, so he went himself to help her; but he was as much shocked as\nshe had been at the dreadful sight of his bleeding children. \"Ah! what\nhave I done?\" he cried; \"but the little rascals shall pay for it, I\nwarrant them.\"\n\nHe first threw some water on his wife's face; and, as soon as she came\nto herself, he said to her: \"Bring me quickly my seven-league boots,\nthat I may go and catch the little vipers.\"\n\nThe Ogre then put on these boots, and set out with all speed. He\nstrided over many parts of the country, and at last turned into the\nvery road in which the poor children were. For they had set off\ntowards the faggot-maker's cottage, which they had almost reached.\nThey watched the Ogre stepping from mountain to mountain at one step,\nand crossing rivers as if they had been tiny brooks. At this\nHop-o'-my-thumb thought a little what was to be done; and spying a\nhollow place under a large rock, he made his brothers get into it. He\nthen crept in himself, but kept his eye fixed on the Ogre, to see what\nhe would do next.\n\nThe Ogre found himself quite weary with the journey he had gone, for\nseven-league boots are very tiresome to the person who wears them; so\nhe now began to think of resting, and happened to sit down on the very\nrock where the poor children were hid. As he was so tired, and it was\na very hot day, he fell fast asleep, and soon began to snore so loud,\nthat the little fellows were terrified.\n\nWhen Hop-o'-my-thumb saw this he said to his brothers, \"Courage, my\nlads! never fear! you have nothing to do but to steal away and get\nhome while the Ogre is fast asleep, and leave me to shift for myself.\"\n\nThe brothers now were very glad to do whatever he told them, and so\nthey soon came to their father's house. In the mean time\nHop-o'-my-thumb went up to the Ogre softly, pulled off his\nseven-league boots very gently, and put them on his own legs: for\nthough the boots were very large, yet being fairy-boots, they could\nmake themselves small enough to fit any leg they pleased.\n\nAs soon as ever Hop-o'-my-thumb had made sure of the Ogre's\nseven-league boots, he went at once to the palace, and offered his\nservices to carry orders from the king to his army, which was a great\nway off, and to bring back the quickest accounts of the battle they\nwere just at that time fighting with the enemy. In short, he thought\nhe could be of more use to the king than all his mail coaches, and so\nshould make his fortune in this manner. He succeeded so well, that in\na short time he made money enough to keep himself, his father, mother,\nand six brothers, without the trouble of working, for the rest of\ntheir lives. Having done this, he went back to his father's cottage,\nwhere all the family were delighted to see him again. As the great\nfame of his boots had been talked of at court in this time, the king\nsent for him, and indeed employed him very often in the greatest\naffairs of the state, so that he became one of the richest men in the\nkingdom.\n\nAnd now let us see what became of the wicked Ogre. He slept so soundly\nthat he never discovered the loss of his boots; but having an evil\nconscience and bad dreams, he fell in his sleep from the corner of the\nrock where Hop-o'-my-thumb and his brothers had left him, and bruised\nhimself so much from head to foot, that he could not stir: so he was\nforced to stretch himself out at full length, and wait for some one to\ncome and help him.\n\nNow a good many faggot-makers passed near the place where the Ogre\nlay; and, when they heard him groan, they went up to ask him what was\nthe matter. But the Ogre had eaten such a great number of children in\nhis lifetime, that he had grown so very big and fat that these men\ncould not even have carried one of his legs; so they were forced to\nleave him there. At last night came on, and then a large serpent came\nout of a wood just by, and stung him, so that he died in great pain.\n\nBy and by, Hop-o'-my-thumb, who had become the king's first favourite,\nheard of the Ogre's death; and the first thing he did was to tell his\nmajesty all that the good-natured Ogress had done to save the lives of\nhimself and brothers. The king was so much pleased at what he heard,\nthat he asked Hop-o'-my-thumb if there was any favour he could bestow\nupon her? Hop-o'-my-thumb thanked the king, and desired that the\nOgress might have the noble title of Duchess of Draggletail given to\nher; which was no sooner asked than granted. The Ogress then came to\ncourt, and lived very happily for many years, enjoying the vast\nfortune she had found in the Ogre's chests. As for Hop-o'-my-thumb, he\nevery day grew more witty and brave; till at last the king made him\nthe greatest lord in the kingdom, and set him over all his affairs.\n\n\n\n\nCINDERELLA\n\nOR,\n\nThe Little Glass Slipper.\n\n\nThere was once an honest gentle man who took for his second wife a\nlady, the proudest and most disagreeable in the whole country. She had\ntwo daughters exactly like herself in all things. He also had one\nlittle girl, who resembled her dead mother, the best woman in all the\nworld. Scarcely had the second marriage taken place, than the\nstepmother became jealous of the good qualities of the little girl,\nwho was so great a contrast to her own two daughters. She gave her all\nthe menial occupations of the house; compelled her to wash the floors\nand staircases, to dust the bed-rooms, and clean the grates; and while\nher sisters occupied carpeted chambers hung with mirrors, where they\ncould see themselves from head to foot, this poor little damsel was\nsent to sleep in an attic, on an old straw mattress, with only one\nchair and not a looking-glass in the room.\n\nShe suffered all in silence, not daring to complain to her father, who\nwas entirely ruled by his new wife. When her daily work was done she\nused to sit down in the chimney-corner among the ashes; from which the\ntwo sisters gave her the nick-name of _Cinderella_. But Cinderella,\nhowever shabbily clad, was handsomer than they were with all their\nfine clothes.\n\nIt happened that the king's son gave a series of balls, to which were\ninvited all the rank and fashion of the city, and among the rest the\ntwo elder sisters. They were very proud and happy, and occupied their\nwhole time in deciding what they should wear; a source of new trouble\nto Cinderella, whose duty it was to get up their fine linen and laces,\nand who never could please them however much she tried. They talked of\nnothing but their clothes.\n\n\"I,\" said the elder, \"shall wear my velvet gown and my trimmings of\nEnglish lace.\"\n\n\"And I,\" added the younger, \"will have but my ordinary silk petticoat,\nbut I shall adorn it with an upper skirt of flowered brocade, and\nshall put on my diamond tiara, which is a great deal finer than\nanything of yours.\"\n\nHere the elder sister grew angry, and the dispute began to run so\nhigh, that Cinderella, who was known to have excellent taste, was\ncalled upon to decide between them. She gave them the best advice she\ncould, and gently and submissively offered to dress them herself, and\nespecially to arrange their hair, an accomplishment in which she\nexcelled many a noted coiffeur. The important evening came, and she\nexercised all her skill to adorn the two young ladies. While she was\ncombing out the elder's hair, this ill-natured girl said sharply,\n\"Cinderella, do you not wish you were going to the ball?\"\n\n\"Ah, madam\" (they obliged her always to say madam), \"you are only\nmocking me; it is not my fortune to have any such pleasure.\"\n\n\"You are right; people would only laugh to see a little cinder-wench\nat a ball.\"\n\nAny other than Cinderella would have dressed the hair all awry, but\nshe was good, and dressed it perfectly even and smooth, and as\nprettily as she could.\n\nThe sisters had scarcely eaten for two days, and had broken a dozen\nstay-laces a day, in trying to make themselves slender; but to-night\nthey broke a dozen more, and lost their tempers over and over again\nbefore they had completed their toilette. When at last the happy\nmoment arrived, Cinderella followed them to the coach; after it had\nwhirled them away, she sat down by the kitchen fire and cried.\n\nImmediately her godmother, who was a fairy, appeared beside her. \"What\nare you crying for, my little maid?\"\n\n\"Oh, I wish--I wish--\" Her sobs stopped her.\n\n\"You wish to go to the ball; isn't it so?\"\n\nCinderella nodded.\n\n\"Well, then, be a good girl, and you shall go. First run into the\ngarden and fetch me the largest pumpkin you can find.\"\n\nCinderella did not comprehend what this had to do with her going to\nthe ball, but being obedient and obliging, she went. Her godmother\ntook the pumpkin, and having scooped out all its inside, struck it\nwith her wand; it became a splendid gilt coach, lined with\nrose-coloured satin.\n\n\"Now fetch me the mouse-trap out of the pantry, my dear.\"\n\nCinderella brought it; it contained six of the fattest, sleekest mice.\nThe fairy lifted up the wire door, and as each mouse ran out she\nstruck it and changed it into a beautiful black horse.\n\n\"But what shall I do for your coachman, Cinderella?\"\n\nCinderella suggested that she had seen a large black rat in the\nrat-trap, and he might do for want of better.\n\n\"You are right; go and look again for him.\"\n\nHe was found, and the fairy made him into a most respectable coachman,\nwith the finest whiskers imaginable. She afterwards took six lizards\nfrom behind the pumpkin frame, and changed them into six footmen, all\nin splendid livery, who immediately jumped up behind the carriage, as\nif they had been footmen all their days. \"Well, Cinderella, now you\ncan go to the ball.\"\n\n\"What, in these clothes?\" said Cinderella piteously, looking down on\nher ragged frock.\n\nHer godmother laughed, and touched her also with the wand; at which\nher wretched thread-bare jacket became stiff with gold, and sparkling\nwith jewels; her woollen petticoat lengthened into a gown of sweeping\nsatin, from underneath which peeped out her little feet, no longer\nbare, but covered with silk stockings, and the prettiest glass\nslippers in the world. \"Now Cinderella, depart; but remember, if you\nstay one instant after midnight, your carriage will become a pumpkin,\nyour coachman a rat, your horses mice, and your footmen lizards; while\nyou yourself will be the little cinder-wench you were an hour ago.\"\n\nCinderella promised without fear, her heart was so full of joy.\n\nArrived at the palace, the king's son, whom some one, probably the\nfairy, had told to await the coming of an uninvited princess whom\nnobody knew, was standing at the entrance, ready to receive her. He\noffered her his hand, and led her with the utmost courtesy through the\nassembled guests, who stood aside to let her pass, whispering to one\nanother, \"Oh, how beautiful she is!\" It might have turned the head of\nany one but poor Cinderella, who was so used to be despised, that she\ntook it all as if it were something happening in a dream.\n\nHer triumph was complete; even the old king said to the queen, that\nnever since her majesty's young days had he seen so charming and\nelegant a person. All the court ladies, scanned her eagerly, clothes\nand all, determining to have theirs made next day of exactly the same\npattern. The king's son himself led her out to dance, and she danced\nso gracefully that he admired her more and more. Indeed, at supper,\nwhich was fortunately early, his admiration quite took away his\nappetite. For Cinderella herself, with an involuntary shyness she\nsought out her sisters; placed herself beside them and offered them\nall sorts of civil attentions, which, coming as they supposed from a\nstranger, and so magnificent a lady, almost overwhelmed them with\ndelight.\n\nWhile she was talking with them, she heard the clock strike a quarter\nto twelve, and making a courteous adieu to the royal family, she\nre-entered her carriage, escorted tenderly by the king's son, and\narrived in safety at her own door. There she found her godmother, who\nsmiled approval; and of whom she begged permission to go to a second\nball, the following night, to which the queen had earnestly invited\nher.\n\nWhile she was talking, the two sisters were heard knocking at the\ngate, and the fairy godmother vanished, leaving Cinderella sitting in\nthe chimney-corner, rubbing her eyes and pretending to be very sleepy.\n\n\"Ah,\" cried the eldest sister maliciously, \"it has been the most\ndelightful ball, and there was present the most beautiful princess I\never saw, who was so exceedingly polite to us both.\"\n\n\"Was she?\" said Cinderella indifferently; \"and who might she be?\"\n\n\"Nobody knows, though everybody would give their eyes to know,\nespecially the king's son.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" replied Cinderella, a little more interested; \"I should like\nto see her. Miss Javotte\"--that was the elder sister's name--\"will you\nnot let me go to-morrow, and lend me your yellow gown that you wear on\nSundays?\"\n\n\"What, lend my yellow gown to a cinder-wench! I am not so mad as\nthat;\" at which refusal Cinderella did not complain, for if her sister\nreally had lent her the gown she would have been considerably\nembarrassed.\n\nThe next night came, and the two young ladies richly dressed in\ndifferent toilettes, went to the ball. Cinderella, more splendidly\nattired and beautiful than ever, followed them shortly after. \"Now\nremember twelve o'clock,\" was her godmother's parting speech; and she\nthought she certainly should. But the prince's attentions to her were\ngreater even than the first evening, and in the delight of listening\nto his pleasant conversation, time slipped by unperceived. While she\nwas sitting beside him in a lovely alcove, and looking at the moon\nfrom under a bower of orange blossoms, she heard a clock strike the\nfirst stroke of twelve. She started up, and fled away as lightly as a\ndeer.\n\nAmazed, the prince followed, but could not catch her. Indeed he missed\nhis lovely princess altogether, and only saw running out of the palace\ndoors a little dirty lass whom he had never beheld before, and of whom\nhe certainly would never have taken the least notice, Cinderella\narrived at home breathless and weary, ragged and cold, without\ncarriage, or footmen, or coachman; the only remnant of her past\nmagnificence being one of her little glass slippers;--the other she\nhad dropped in the ball-room as she ran away.\n\nWhen the two sisters returned they were full of this strange\nadventure, how the beautiful lady had appeared at the ball more\nbeautiful than ever, and enchanted every one who looked at her; and\nhow as the clock was striking twelve she had suddenly risen up and\nfled through the ball-room, disappearing no one knew how or where, and\ndropping one of her glass slippers behind her in her flight. How the\nking's son had remained inconsolable until he chanced to pick up the\nlittle glass slipper, which he carried away in his pocket, and was\nseen to take it out continually, and look at it affectionately, with\nthe air of a man very much in love; in fact, from his behaviour during\nthe remainder of the evening, all the court and royal family were\nconvinced that he had become desperately enamoured of the wearer of\nthe little glass slipper.\n\nCinderella listened in silence, turning her face to the kitchen fire,\nand perhaps it was that which made her look so rosy, but nobody ever\nnoticed or admired her at home, so it did not signify, and next\nmorning she went to her weary work again just as before.\n\nA few days after, the whole city was attracted by the sight of a\nherald going round with a little glass slipper in his hand,\npublishing, with a flourish of trumpets, that the king's son ordered\nthis to be fitted on the foot of every lady in the kingdom, and that\nhe wished to marry the lady whom it fitted best, or to whom it and the\nfellow slipper belonged. Princesses, duchesses, countesses, and simple\ngentlewomen all tried it on, but being a fairy slipper, it fitted\nnobody and beside, nobody could produce its fellow slipper, which lay\nall the time safely in the pocket of Cinderella's old linsey gown.\n\nAt last the herald came to the house of the two sisters, and though\nthey well knew neither of themselves was the beautiful lady, they made\nevery attempt to get their clumsy feet into the glass slipper, but in\nvain.\n\n\"Let me try it on,\" said Cinderella from the chimney corner.\n\n\"What, you?\" cried the others, bursting into shouts of laughter; but\nCinderella only smiled, and held out her hand.\n\nHer sisters could not prevent her, since the command was that every\nyoung maiden in the city should try on the slipper, in order that no\nchance might be left untried, for the prince was nearly breaking his\nheart; and his father and mother were afraid that though a prince, he\nwould actually die for love of the beautiful unknown lady.\n\nSo the herald bade Cinderella sit down on a three-legged stool in the\nkitchen, and himself put the slipper on her pretty little foot, which\nit fitted exactly; she then drew from her pocket the fellow slipper,\nwhich she also put on, and stood up--for with the touch of the magic\nshoes all her dress was changed likewise--no longer the poor despised\ncinder-wench, but the beautiful lady whom the king's son loved.\n\nHer sisters recognized her at once. Filled with astonishment, mingled\nwith no little alarm, they threw themselves at her feet, begging her\npardon for all their former unkindness. She raised and embraced them:\ntold them she forgave them with all her heart, and only hoped they\nwould love her always. Then she departed with the herald to the king's\npalace, and told her whole story to his majesty and the royal family,\nwho were not in the least surprised, for everybody believed in\nfairies, and everybody longed to have a fairy godmother.\n\nFor the young prince, he found her more lovely and loveable than ever,\nand insisted upon marrying her immediately. Cinderella never went home\nagain, but she sent for her two sisters to the palace, and with the\nconsent of all parties married them shortly after to two rich\ngentlemen of the court.\n\n\n\n\nADVENTURES OF JOHN DIETRICH.\n\n\nThere once lived in Rambin, a town near the Baltic Sea, an honest,\nindustrious man named James Dietrich. He had several children, all of\na good disposition, especially the youngest, whose name was John. John\nDietrich was a handsome, smart boy, diligent at school, and obedient\nat home. His great passion was for hearing stories, and whenever he\nmet any one who was well stored with such, he never let him go till he\nhad heard them all.\n\nWhen John was about eight years old he was sent to spend a summer with\nhis uncle, a farmer in Rodenkirchen. Here he had to keep cows with\nother boys, and they used to drive them to graze about the Nine-hills,\nwhere an old cowherd, one Klas Starkwolt, frequently came to join the\nlads, and then they would sit down all together and tell stories.\nConsequently Klas became John's best friend, for he knew stories\nwithout end. He could tell all about the Nine-hills, and the\nunderground folk who inhabited them; how the giants disappeared from\nthe country, and the dwarfs or little people came in their stead.\nThese tales John swallowed so eagerly that he thought of nothing else,\nand was for ever talking of golden cups, and crowns, and glass shoes,\nand pockets full of ducats, and gold rings, and diamond coronets, and\nsnow-white brides, and the like. Old Klas used often to shake his head\nat him and say, \"John! John! what are you about? The spade and scythe\nwill be your sceptre and crown, and your bride will wear a garland of\nrosemary and a gown of striped drill.\"\n\nStill John almost longed to get into the Nine-hills, for Klas had told\nhim that any one who by luck or cunning should get the cap of one of\nthe little people might go down with safety, and instead of becoming\ntheir slave, he would be their master. The fairy whose cap he got\nwould be his servant, and obey all his commands.\n\nMidsummer-eve, when the days are longest and the nights shortest, was\nnow come. In the village of Rambin old and young kept the holiday, had\nall sorts of plays, and told all kinds of stories. John, who knew that\nthis season was the time for all fairy-people to come abroad, could\nnow no longer contain himself, but the day after the festival he\nslipped away to the Nine-hills, and when it grew dark laid himself\ndown on the top of the highest of them, which Klas had told him was\nthe principal dancing-ground of the underground people. John lay there\nquite still from ten till twelve at night. At last it struck twelve.\nImmediately there was a ringing and a singing in the hills, and then a\nwhispering and a lisping and a whiz and a buzz all about him, for the\nlittle people were now come out, some whirling round and round in the\ndance, and others sporting and tumbling about in the moonshine, and\nplaying a thousand merry pranks. He felt a secret dread creep over\nhim at this whispering and buzzing, for he could see nothing of them,\nas the caps they wore made them invisible; but he lay quite still,\nwith his face in the grass and his eyes fast shut, snoring a little\njust as if he was asleep. Yet now and then he ventured to open his\neyes a little and peep out, but not the slightest trace of them could\nhe see, though it was bright moonlight.\n\nIt was not long before three of the underground people came jumping up\nto where he was lying; but they took no heed of him, and flung their\nbrown caps up into the air, and caught them from one another. At\nlength one snatched the cap out of the hand of another and flung it\naway. It flew direct and fell upon John's head. He could feel, though\nhe could not see it; and the moment he did feel it, he caught hold of\nit. Starting up, he swung it about for joy, and made the little silver\nbell of it tingle, then set it upon his head, and--O wonderful to\nrelate!--that instant he saw the countless and merry swarm of the\nlittle people.\n\nThe three little men came slily up to him, and thought by their\nnimbleness to get back the cap, but he held his prize fast, and they\nsaw clearly that nothing was to be done in this way with him, for in\nsize and strength John was a giant in comparison of these little\nfellows, who hardly reached his knee. The owner of the cap now came up\nvery humbly to the finder, and begged in as supplicating a tone as if\nhis life depended upon it, that he would give him back his cap. \"No,\"\nsaid John, \"you sly little rogue, you'll get the cap no more. That's\nnot the sort of thing: I should be in a nice perplexity if I had not\nsomething of yours; now you have no power over me, but must do what I\nplease. And I will go down with you, and see how you live below and\nyou shall be my servant.--Nay, no grumbling, you know you must. And I\nknow it too, just as well as you do, for Klas Starkwolt told it to me\noften and often.\"\n\nThe little man made as if he had not heard or understood one word of\nall this; he began all his crying and whining over again, and wept,\nand screamed, and howled most piteously for his little cap. But John\ncut the matter short by saying to him, \"Have done; you are my servant,\nand I intend to take a trip with you.\" So the underground man gave up\nthe point; especially as he well knew there was no remedy.\n\nJohn now flung away his old hat, and put on the cap, and set it firmly\non his head, lest it should slip off or fly away, for all his power\nlay in it. He lost no time in trying its virtues, but commanded his\nnew servant to fetch him food and drink. The servant ran away like the\nwind, and in a second was there again with bottles of wine, and bread,\nand rich fruits. So John ate and drank, and looked on at the sports\nand the dancing of the little people, and it pleased him right well,\nand he behaved himself stoutly and wisely, as if he was a born master.\n\nWhen the cock had now crowed for the third time, and the little larks\nhad made their first flutter in the sky, and the daybreak appeared in\nslender white streaks in the east, then there went a whisper, hush,\nhush, hush, through the bushes, and flowers, and trees; and the hills\nrang again, and opened up, and the little men stole down and\ndisappeared. John gave close attention to every thing, and found that\nit was exactly as he had been told. And behold! on the top of the hill\nwhere they had just been dancing, and which was now full of grass and\nflowers, as people see it by day, there rose, of a sudden, a small\nglass door. Whosoever wanted to go in stepped upon this; it opened,\nand he glided gently in, the glass closing again after him; and when\nthey had all entered it vanished, and there was no farther trace of it\nto be seen. Those who descended through the glass door sank quite\ngently into a wide silver tun or barrel, which held them all, and\ncould easily have harboured a thousand such little people. John and\nhis man went down also, along with several others, all of whom\nscreamed out and prayed him not to tread on them, for if his weight\ncame on them, they were dead men. He was, however, careful, and acted\nin a very friendly way towards them. Several barrels of this kind went\nup and down after each other, until all were in. They hung by long\nsilver chains, which were drawn and guided from below.\n\nIn his descent John was amazed at the wonderful brilliancy of the\nwalls between which the tun glided down. They seemed all studded with\npearls and diamonds, glittering and sparkling brightly, while below\nhim he heard the most beautiful music tinkling at a distance, so that\nhe did not know what he was about, and from excess of pleasure he fell\nfast asleep.\n\nHe slept a long time, and when he awoke he found himself in the most\nbeautiful bed that could be, such as he had never seen in his father's\nor any other house. It was also the prettiest little chamber in the\nworld, and his servant was beside him with a fan to keep away the\nflies and gnats. He had hardly opened his eyes when his little servant\nbrought him a basin and towel, and held ready for him to put on the\nnicest new clothes of brown silk, most beautifully made; with these\nwas a pair of new black shoes with red ribbons, such as John had never\nbeheld in Rambin or in Rodenkirchen either. There were also there\nseveral pairs of glittering glass shoes, such as are only used on\ngreat occasions. John was, we may well suppose, delighted to have such\nclothes to wear, and he put them on joyfully. His servant then flew\nlike lightning and returned with a fine breakfast of wine and milk,\nand delicate white bread and fruits, and such other things as little\nboys are fond of. He now perceived, every moment, more and more, that\nKlas Starkwolt, the old cowherd, knew what he was talking about, for\nthe splendour and magnificence here surpassed anything John had ever\ndreamt of. His servant, too, was the most obedient one possible; a nod\nor a sign was enough for him, for he was as wise as a bee, as all\nthese little people are by nature.\n\nJohn's bedroom was all covered with emeralds and other precious\nstones, and in the ceiling was a diamond as big as a nine-pin bowl,\nthat gave light to the whole chamber. In this place they have neither\nsun, nor moon, nor stars to give them light; neither do they use lamps\nor candles of any kind; but they live in the midst of precious stones,\nand have the purest of gold and silver in abundance, from which they\nmanage to obtain light both by day and by night, though indeed,\nproperly speaking, as there is no sun here, there is no distinction of\nday and night, and they reckon only by weeks. They set the brightest\nand clearest precious stones in their dwellings, and the ways and\npassages leading under the ground, and in the places where they have\ntheir large halls, and their dances and feasts; and the sparkle of\nthese jewels makes a sort of silvery twilight which is far more\nbeautiful than common day.\n\nWhen John had finished his breakfast, his servant opened a little door\nin the wall, where was a closet with silver and gold cups and dishes\nand other vessels, and baskets filled with ducats, and boxes of jewels\nand precious stones. There were also charming pictures, and the most\ndelightful story-books he had seen in the whole course of his life.\n\nJohn spent the morning looking at these things; and, when it was\nmid-day, a bell rung, and his servant said, \"Will you dine alone, sir,\nor with the large company?\"\n\n\"With the large company, to be sure,\" replied John. So his servant led\nhim out. John, however, saw nothing but solitary halls, lighted up\nwith precious stones, and here and there little men and women, who\nappeared to him to glide out of the clefts and fissures of the rocks.\nWondering what it was the bells rang for, he said to his servant--\"But\nwhere is the company?\" And scarcely had he spoken when the hall they\nwere in opened out to a great extent, and a canopy set with diamonds\nand precious stones was drawn over it. At the same moment he saw an\nimmense throng of nicely dressed little men and women pouring in\nthrough several open doors: the floor opened in several places, and\ntables, covered with the most beautiful ware, and the most luscious\nmeats, and fruits, and wines, arranged themselves in rows, and the\nchairs arranged themselves along beside the tables, and then the men\nand women took their seats.\n\nThe principal persons now came forward, bowed to John, and led him to\ntheir table, where they placed him among their most beautiful maidens,\na distinction which pleased John well. The party too was very merry,\nfor the underground people are extremely lively and cheerful, and can\nnever stay long quiet. Then the most charming music sounded over their\nheads; and beautiful birds, flying about, sung sweetly: these were not\nreal but artificial birds, which the little men make so ingeniously\nthat they can fly about and sing like natural ones.\n\nThe servants of both sexes, who waited at table, and handed about the\ngold cups, and the silver and crystal baskets with fruit, were mortal\nchildren, whom some misfortune had thrown among the underground\npeople, and who, having come down without securing any pledge, such as\nJohn's cap, had fallen into their power. These were differently clad\nfrom their masters. The boys and girls were dressed in snow-white\ncoats and jackets, and wore glass shoes, so thin that their steps\ncould never be heard, with blue caps on their heads, and silver belts\nround their waists.\n\nJohn at first pitied them, seeing how they were forced to run about\nand wait on the little people; but as they looked cheerful and happy,\nand were handsomely dressed, and had such rosy cheeks, he said to\nhimself--\"After all, they are not so badly off, and I was myself much\nworse when I had to be running after the cows and bullocks. To be\nsure, I am now a master here, and they are servants; but there is no\nhelp for it: why were they so foolish as to let themselves be taken\nand not get some pledge beforehand? At any rate, the time must come\nwhen they shall be set at liberty, and they will certainly not be\nlonger than fifty years here.\" With these thoughts he consoled\nhimself, and sported and played away with his little playfellows, and\nate, and drank, and made his servant and the others tell him stories,\nfor he always liked to hear something strange, and to get to the\nbottom of everything.\n\nThey sat at table about two hours: the principal person then rang a\nlittle bell, and the tables and chairs all vanished in a whiff,\nleaving the company standing on their feet. The birds now struck up a\nmost lively air, and the little people began to dance, jumping and\nleaping and whirling round and round, as if the world were grown\ndizzy. And the pretty little girls that sat next John caught hold of\nhim and whirled him about; and, without making any resistance, he\ndanced with them for two good hours. Every afternoon while he remained\nthere he used to do the same; and, to the last hour of his life, he\nalways spoke of it with the greatest glee.\n\nWhen the music and dancing were over, it might be about four o'clock.\nThe little people then disappeared, and went each about their work or\ntheir pleasure. After supper they sported and danced in the same way;\nand at midnight, especially on starlight nights, they slipped out of\ntheir hills to dance in the open air. John used then, like a good boy,\nto say his prayers and go to sleep, a duty he never neglected either\nin the evening or in the morning.\n\nFor the first week that John was in the glass-hill he only went from\nhis chamber to the great hall and back again. After then, however, he\nbegan to walk about, making his servant show and explain everything to\nhim. He found that there were here most beautiful walks, in which he\nmight ramble along for miles, in all directions, without ever finding\nan end of them, so immensely large was the hill that the little people\nlived in, and yet outwardly it seemed but a little hill, with a few\nbushes and trees growing on it.\n\nHe found also meadows and lanes, islands and lakes, where the birds\nsang sweeter, and the flowers were more brilliant and fragrant than\nanything he had ever seen on earth. There was a breeze, and yet one\ndid not feel the wind; it was quite clear and bright, but there was no\nheat; the waves were dashing, still there was no danger; and the most\nbeautiful little barks and canoes came, like white swans, when one\nwanted to cross the water, and went backwards and forwards of their\nown accord. Whence all this came nobody knew, nor could his servant\ntell anything about it.\n\nThese lovely meads and plains were, for the most part, all solitary.\nFew of the underground people were to be seen upon them, and those\nthat were just glided across them, as if in the greatest hurry. It\nvery rarely happened that any of them danced out here in the open air;\nsometimes about three of them did so; at the most half a dozen: John\nnever saw a greater number together. The meadows never seemed\ncheerful, except when the earth-children, who were kept as servants,\nwere let out to walk. This, however, happened but twice a week, for\nthey were mostly kept employed in the great hall and adjoining\napartments, or at school.\n\nFor John soon found they had schools there also; he had been there\nabout ten months, when one day he saw something snow-white gliding\ninto a rock, and disappearing. \"What!\" said he to his servant, \"are\nthere some of you too that wear white, like the servants?\" He was\ninformed that there were; but they were few in number, and never\nappeared at the large tables or the dances, except once a year, on the\nbirthday of the great Hill-king, who dwelt many thousand miles below\nin the great deep. These were the oldest men among them, some being\nmany thousand years old; they knew all things, and could tell of the\nbeginning of the world, and were called the Wise. They lived all\nalone, and only left their chambers to instruct the underground\nchildren and the attendants of both sexes.\n\nJohn was greatly interested by this news, and he determined to take\nadvantage of it: so next morning he made his servant conduct him to\nthe school, and was so well pleased with it that he never missed a\nday. The scholars were taught reading, writing, and accounts, to\ncompose and relate histories and stories, and many elegant kinds of\nwork; so that many came out of the hills very prudent and learned. The\nbiggest, and those of best capacity, received instruction in natural\nscience and astronomy, and in poetry and riddle-making, arts highly\nesteemed by the little people. John was very diligent, and soon became\na clever painter; he wrought, too, most ingeniously in gold, and\nsilver, and stones; and in verse and riddle-making he had no fellow.\n\nJohn had spent many a happy year here without ever thinking of the\nupper world, or of those he had left behind, so pleasantly passed the\ntime--so many an agreeable playfellow had he among the children.\n\nOf all his playfellows there was none of whom he was so fond as of a\nlittle fair-haired girl, named Elizabeth Krabbin. She was from his own\nvillage, and was the daughter of Frederick Krabbe, the minister of\nRambin. She was but four years old when she was taken away, and John\nhad often heard tell of her. She was not, however, stolen by the\nlittle people, but came into their power in this manner. One day in\nsummer, she, with other children, ran out into the fields: in their\nrambles they went to the Nine-hills, where little Elizabeth fell\nasleep, and was forgotten by the rest. At night, when she awoke, she\nfound herself under the ground among the little people. It was not\nmerely because she was from his own village that John was so fond of\nElizabeth, but she was a most beautiful child, with clear blue eyes\nand ringlets of fair hair, and a most angelic smile.\n\nTime flew away unperceived: John was now eighteen, and Elizabeth\nsixteen. Their childish fondness was now become love, and the little\npeople were pleased to see it, thinking that by means of her they\nmight get John to renounce his power, and become their servant; for\nthey were fond of him, and would willingly have had him to wait upon\nthem; the love of dominion is their vice. But they were mistaken; John\nhad learned too much from his servant to be caught in that way.\n\nJohn's chief delight was walking about alone with Elizabeth; for he\nnow knew every place so well that he could dispense with the\nattendance of his servant. In these rambles he was always gay and\nlively, but his companion was frequently sad and melancholy, thinking\nof the land above, where men lived, and where the sun, moon, and stars\nshine. Now it happened in one of their walks, that as they talked of\ntheir love, and it was after midnight, they passed under the place\nwhere the tops of the glass hills used to open and let the underground\npeople in and out. As they went along they heard of a sudden the\ncrowing of several cocks above. At this sound, which she had not heard\nfor twelve years, little Elizabeth felt her heart so affected that she\ncould contain herself no longer, but throwing her arms about John's\nneck, she bathed his cheeks with her tears. At length she spake--\n\n\"Dearest John,\" said she, \"everything down here is very beautiful, and\nthe little people are kind, and do nothing to injure me, but still I\nhave always been uneasy, nor ever felt any pleasure till I began to\nlove you; and yet that is not pure pleasure, for this is not a right\nway of living, such as it should be for human beings. Every night I\ndream of my dear father and mother, and of our church-yard, where the\npeople stand so piously at the church-door waiting for my father, and\nI could weep tears of blood that I cannot go into the church with\nthem, and worship God as a human being should; for this is no\nChristian life we lead down here, but a delusive half heathen one. And\nonly think, dear John, that we can never marry, as there is no priest\nto join us. Do, then, plan some way for us to leave this place; for I\ncannot tell you how I long to get once more to my father, and among\npious Christians.\"\n\nJohn too had not been unaffected by the crowing of the cocks, and he\nfelt what he had never felt here before, a longing after the land\nwhere the sun shines. He replied--\n\n\"Dear Elizabeth, all you say is true, and I now feel that it is a sin\nfor Christians to stay here; and it seems to me as if our Lord said to\nus in that cry of the cocks, 'Come up, ye Christian children, out of\nthose abodes of illusion and magic; come to the light of the stars,\nand act as children of light.' I now feel that it was a great sin for\nme to come down here, but I trust I shall be forgiven on account of my\nyouth; for I was a child and knew not what I did. But now I will not\nstay a day longer. They cannot keep _me_ here.\"\n\nAt these last words, Elizabeth turned pale, for she recollected that\nshe was a servant, and must serve her fifty years. \"And what will it\navail me,\" cried she, \"that I shall continue young and be but as\ntwenty years old when I go out, for my father and mother will be dead,\nand all my companions old and gray; and you, dearest John, will be old\nand gray also,\" cried she, throwing herself on his bosom.\n\nJohn was thunderstruck at this, for it had never before occurred to\nhim; he, however, comforted her as well as he could, and declared he\nwould never leave the place without her. He spent the whole night in\nforming various plans, at last he fixed on one, and in the morning he\ndispatched his servant to summon to his apartment six of the principal\nof the little people. When they came, John thus mildly addressed them:\n\n\"My friends, you know how I came here, not as a prisoner or servant,\nbut as a lord and master over one of you, and consequently, over all.\nYou have now for the ten years I have been with you treated me with\nrespect and attention, and for that I am your debtor. But you are\nstill more my debtors, for I might have given you every sort of\nannoyance and vexation, and you must have submitted to it. I have,\nhowever, not done so, but have behaved as your equal, and have sported\nand played with you rather than ruled over you. I now have one request\nto make. There is a girl among your servants whom I love, Elizabeth\nKrabbin, of Rambin, where I was born. Give her to me, and let us\ndepart. For I will return to where the sun shines and the plough goes\nthrough the land. I ask to take nothing with me but her, and the\nornaments and furniture of my chamber.\"\n\nHe spoke in a determined tone, and they hesitated and cast their eyes\nto the ground; at last the eldest of them replied:\n\n\"Sir, you ask what we cannot grant. It is a fixed law, that no servant\nshould leave this place before the appointed time. Were we to break\nthrough this law, our whole subterranean empire would fall. Anything\nelse you desire, for we love and respect you, but we cannot give up\nElizabeth.\"\n\n\"You can and you shall give her up,\" cried John in a rage; \"go think\nof it till to-morrow. Return here at this hour. I will show you\nwhether or no I can triumph over your hypocritical and cunning\nstratagems.\"\n\nThe six retired. Next morning, on their return, John addressed them in\nthe kindest manner, but to no purpose; they persisted in their\nrefusal. He gave them till the following day, threatening them\nseverely in case of their still proving refractory.\n\nNext day, when the six little people appeared before him, John looked\nat them sternly, and made no reply to their salutations, but said to\nthem shortly, \"Yes or No?\" And they answered with one voice, \"No.\" He\nthen ordered his servant to summon twenty-four more of the principal\npersons, with their wives and children. When they came, they were in\nall five hundred men, women, and children. John ordered them forthwith\nto go and fetch pickaxes, spades, and bars, which they did in a\nsecond.\n\nHe now led them out to a rock in one of the fields, and ordered them\nto fall to work at blasting, hewing, and dragging stones. They toiled\npatiently, and made as if it was only sport to them. From morning till\nnight their taskmaster made them labour without ceasing, standing over\nthem constantly, to prevent their resting. Still their obstinacy was\ninflexible; and at the end of some weeks his pity for them was so\ngreat, that he was obliged to give over.\n\nHe now thought of a new species of punishment for them. He ordered\nthem to appear before him next morning, each provided with a new whip.\nThey obeyed, and John commanded them to strip and lash one another\ntill the blood should run down on the ground, while he stood looking\non as grim and cruel as an Eastern tyrant. Still the little people cut\nand slashed themselves, and mocked at John, and refused to comply with\nhis wishes. This he did for three or four days.\n\nSeveral other courses did he try, but all in vain; his temper was too\ngentle to struggle with their obstinacy, and he began now to despair\nof ever accomplishing his dearest wish. He began to hate the little\npeople whom he was before so fond of; he kept away from their banquets\nand dances, associated only with Elizabeth, and ate and drank quite\nsolitary in his chamber. In short, he became almost a perfect hermit,\nand sank into moodiness and melancholy.\n\nWhile in this temper, as he was taking a solitary walk in the evening,\nand, to divert his melancholy, was flinging the stones that lay in his\npath against each other, he happened to break a tolerably large one,\nand out of it jumped a toad. The moment John saw the ugly animal, he\ncaught him up in ecstasy, and put him into his pocket and ran home,\ncrying, \"Now I have her! I have my Elizabeth! Now you shall catch it,\nyou little mischievous rascals!\" And on getting home he put the toad\ninto a costly silver casket, as if it was the greatest treasure.\n\nTo account for John's joy you must know Klas Starkwolt had often told\nhim that the underground people could not endure any ill odour, and\nthat the sight or even the smell of a toad made them faint and suffer\nthe most dreadful tortures, so that, by means of these animals, one\ncould compel them to anything. Hence there are no bad smells to be\nfound in the whole glass empire, and a toad is a thing unheard of\nthere; this toad must therefore have been inclosed in the stone from\nthe Creation, as it were for the sake of John and Elizabeth.\n\nResolved to try the effect of his toad, John took the casket under his\narm and went out, and on the way he met two of the little people in a\nlonesome place. The moment he approached them they fell to the ground,\nand whimpered and howled most lamentably, as long as he was near them.\n\nSatisfied now of his power, he next morning summoned the fifty\nprincipal persons, with their wives and children, to his apartment.\nWhen they came, he addressed them, reminding them once again of his\nkindness and gentleness towards them, and of the good terms on which\nthey had hitherto lived together. He reproached them with their\ningratitude in refusing him the only favour he had ever asked of them,\nbut firmly declared he would not give way to their obstinacy.\n\"Wherefore,\" said he, \"for the last time, I warn you;--think for a\nminute, and if you then say No, you shall feel that pain which is to\nyou and your children the most terrible of all sufferings.\"\n\nThey did not take long to deliberate, but unanimously replied \"No;\"\nfor they thought to themselves, What new scheme has the youth hit on,\nwith which he thinks to frighten wise ones like us? and they smiled\nwhen they said No. Their smiling enraged John above all, and he ran\nback to where he had laid the casket with the toad, under a bush.\n\nHe was hardly come within a hundred paces of them when they all fell\nto the ground as if struck with a thunderbolt, and began to howl and\nwhimper, and to writhe, as if suffering the most excruciating pain.\nThey stretched out their hands, and cried, \"Have mercy! have mercy! we\nfeel you have a toad, and there is no escape for us. Take the odious\nbeast away, and we will do all you require.\" He let them kick a few\nseconds longer, and then took the toad away. They then stood up and\nfelt no more pain. John let all depart but the six chief persons, to\nwhom he said,--\n\n\"This night, between twelve and one, Elizabeth and I will depart. Load\nthen for me three waggons, with gold, and silver, and precious stones.\nI might, you know, take all that is in the hill, and you deserve it,\nbut I will be merciful. Farther, you must put all the furniture of my\nchamber in two waggons, and get ready for me the handsomest\ntravelling-carriage that is in the hill with six black horses.\nMoreover, you must set at liberty all the servants who have been so\nlong here that on earth they would be twenty years old and upwards,\nand you must give them as much silver and gold as will make them rich\nfor life, and make a law that no one shall be detained here longer\nthan his twentieth year.\"\n\nThe six took the oath, and went away quite melancholy, and John buried\nhis toad deep in the ground. The little people laboured hard according\nto his bidding. At midnight everything was out of the hill, and John\nand Elizabeth got into the silver tun and were drawn up.\n\nIt was then one o'clock, and midsummer-eve, the very time that twelve\nyears before John had gone down into the hill. Music sounded around\nthem, and they saw the glass hill open, and the rays of the light of\nheaven shine on them for the first time after so many years; and when\nthey got out they saw the streaks of dawn already in the east. Crowds\nof the underground people were around them busied about the waggons.\nJohn bade them a last farewell, waved his brown cap three times in the\nair, and then flung it among them. And at the same moment he ceased to\nsee them; he beheld nothing but a green hill, and the well-known\nbushes and fields, and heard the church-clock of Rambin strike two.\nWhen all was still, save a few larks who were tuning their morning\nsongs, they both fell on their knees and worshipped God, resolving\nhenceforth to lead a pious and a Christian life.\n\nWhen the sun rose, John and his Elizabeth, with the children whom they\nhad saved from the underground people, set out for Rambin. Every\nwell-known object that they saw awakened pleasing recollections; and\nas they passed by Rodenkirchen, John recognised, among the people\nthat gazed at and followed them, his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the\ncowherd, and his dog Speed. It was four in the morning when they\nentered Rambin, and they halted in the middle of the village, about\ntwenty paces from the house where John was born. The whole village\npoured out to gaze on these Asiatic princes; for such the old sexton,\nwho had in his youth been at Moscow and Constantinople, said they\nwere. There John saw his father and mother, and his brother Andrew,\nand his sister Trine. The old minister, Krabbe, stood there too, in\nhis black slippers and white nightcap, gaping and staring with the\nrest.\n\nJohn discovered himself to his parents, and Elizabeth to hers, and the\nwedding-day was soon fixed, and such a wedding was never seen before\nor since in the island of Rugen; for John sent to Stralsund and\nGreifswald for whole boat-loads of wine, and sugar, and coffee, and\nwhole herds of oxen, sheep, and pigs. The quantity of harts and roes\nand hares that were shot on the occasion it were vain to attempt to\ntell, or to count the fish that were caught. There was not a musician\nin Rugen and Pomerania that was not engaged, for John was immensely\nrich, and he wished to display his wealth.\n\nJohn did not neglect his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd. He\ngave him enough to make him comfortable for the rest of his days, and\ninsisted on his coming and staying with him as often and as long as he\nwished.\n\nAfter his marriage, John made a progress through the country with his\nbeautiful Elizabeth and they purchased towns, and villages, and\nlands, until he became master of nearly half Rugen and a very\nconsiderable portion of the country. His father, old James Dietrich,\nwas made a nobleman, and his brothers and sisters gentlemen and\nladies--for what cannot money do?\n\nJohn and his wife spent their days in acts of piety and charity. They\nbuilt several churches, they had the blessings of every one that knew\nthem, and died universally lamented. It was Count John Dietrich who\nbuilt and richly endowed the present church of Rambin. He built it on\nthe site of his father's house, and presented to it several of the\ncups and plates made by the underground people, and his own and\nElizabeth's glass shoes, in memory of what had befallen them in their\nyouth. But they were all taken away in the time of the great Charles\nthe Twelfth of Sweden, when the Russians came on the island, and the\nCossacks plundered even the churches, and took away everything.\n\n\n\n\nBEAUTY AND THE BEAST.\n\n\nThere was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three boys\nand three girls. As he was himself a man of great sense, he spared no\nexpense for their education. The three daughters were all handsome,\nbut particularly the youngest; indeed, she was so very beautiful, that\nin her childhood every one called her the Little Beauty; and being\nequally lovely when she was grown up, nobody called her by any other\nname, which made her sisters very jealous of her. This youngest\ndaughter was not only more handsome than her sisters, but also was\nbetter tempered. The two eldest were vain of their wealth and\nposition. They gave themselves a thousand airs, and refused to visit\nother merchants' daughters; nor would they condescend to be seen\nexcept with persons of quality. They went every day to balls, plays,\nand public walks, and always made game of their youngest sister for\nspending her time in reading or other useful employments. As it was\nwell known that these young ladies would have large fortunes, many\ngreat merchants wished to get them for wives; but the two eldest\nalways answered, that, for their parts, they had no thoughts of\nmarrying any one below a duke or an earl at least. Beauty had quite as\nmany offers as her sisters, but she always answered, with the\ngreatest civility, that though she was much obliged to her lovers, she\nwould rather live some years longer with her father, as she thought\nherself too young to marry.\n\nIt happened that, by some unlucky accident, the merchant suddenly lost\nall his fortune, and had nothing left but a small cottage in the\ncountry. Upon this he said to his daughters, while the tears ran down\nhis cheeks, \"My children, we must now go and dwell in the cottage, and\ntry to get a living by labour, for we have no other means of support.\"\nThe two eldest replied that they did not know how to work, and would\nnot leave town; for they had lovers enough who would be glad to marry\nthem, though they had no longer any fortune. But in this they were\nmistaken; for when the lovers heard what had happened, they said, \"The\ngirls were so proud and ill-tempered, that all we wanted was their\nfortune: we are not sorry at all to see their pride brought down: let\nthem show off their airs to their cows and sheep.\" But everybody\npitied poor Beauty, because she was so sweet-tempered and kind to all,\nand several gentlemen offered to marry her, though she had not a\npenny; but Beauty still refused, and said she could not think of\nleaving her poor father in this trouble. At first Beauty could not\nhelp sometimes crying in secret for the hardships she was now obliged\nto suffer; but in a very short time she said to herself, \"All the\ncrying in the world will do me no good, so I will try to be happy\nwithout a fortune.\"\n\nWhen they had removed to their cottage, the merchant and his three\nsons employed themselves in ploughing and sowing the fields, and\nworking in the garden. Beauty also did her part, for she rose by four\no'clock every morning, lighted the fires, cleaned the house, and got\nready the breakfast for the whole family. At first she found all this\nvery hard; but she soon grew quite used to it, and thought it no\nhardship; indeed, the work greatly benefited her health. When she had\ndone, she used to amuse herself with reading, playing her music, or\nsinging while she spun. But her two sisters were at a loss what to do\nto pass the time away: they had their breakfast in bed, and did not\nrise till ten o'clock. Then they commonly walked out, but always found\nthemselves very soon tired; when they would often sit down under a\nshady tree, and grieve for the loss of their carriage and fine\nclothes, and say to each other, \"What a mean-spirited poor stupid\ncreature our young sister is, to be so content with this low way of\nlife!\" But their father thought differently: and loved and admired his\nyoungest child more than ever.\n\nAfter they had lived in this manner about a year, the merchant\nreceived a letter, which informed him that one of his richest ships,\nwhich he thought was lost, had just come into port. This news made the\ntwo eldest sisters almost mad with joy; for they thought they should\nnow leave the cottage, and have all their finery again. When they\nfound that their father must take a journey to the ship, the two\neldest begged he would not fail to bring them back some new gowns,\ncaps, rings, and all sorts of trinkets. But Beauty asked for nothing;\nfor she thought in herself that all the ship was worth would hardly\nbuy everything her sisters wished for. \"Beauty,\" said the merchant,\n\"how comes it that you ask for nothing: what can I bring you, my\nchild?\"\n\n\"Since you are so kind as to think of me, dear father,\" she answered,\n\"I should be glad if you would bring me a rose, for we have none in\nour garden.\" Now Beauty did not indeed wish for a rose, nor anything\nelse, but she only said this that she might not affront her sisters;\notherwise they would have said she wanted her father to praise her for\ndesiring nothing. The merchant took his leave of them, and set out on\nhis journey; but when he got to the ship, some persons went to law\nwith him about the cargo, and after a deal of trouble he came back to\nhis cottage as poor as he had left it. When he was within thirty miles\nof his home, and thinking of the joy of again meeting his children, he\nlost his way in the midst of a dense forest. It rained and snowed very\nhard, and, besides, the wind was so high as to throw him twice from\nhis horse. Night came on, and he feared he should die of cold and\nhunger, or be torn to pieces by the wolves that he heard howling round\nhim. All at once, he cast his eyes towards a long avenue, and saw at\nthe end a light, but it seemed a great way off. He made the best of\nhis way towards it, and found that it came from a splendid palace, the\nwindows of which were all blazing with light. It had great bronze\ngates, standing wide open, and fine court-yards, through which the\nmerchant passed; but not a living soul was to be seen. There were\nstables too, which his poor, starved horse, less scrupulous than\nhimself, entered at once, and took a good meal of oats and hay. His\nmaster then tied him up, and walked towards the entrance hall, but\nstill without seeing a single creature. He went on to a large\ndining-parlour, where he found a good fire, and a table covered with\nsome very nice dishes, but only one plate with a knife and fork. As\nthe snow and rain had wetted him to the skin, he went up to the fire\nto dry himself. \"I hope,\" said he, \"the master of the house or his\nservants will excuse me, for it surely will not be long now before I\nsee them.\" He waited some time, but still nobody came: at last the\nclock struck eleven, and the merchant, being quite faint for the want\nof food, helped himself to a chicken, and to a few glasses of wine,\nyet all the time trembling with fear. He sat till the clock struck\ntwelve, and then, taking courage, began to think he might as well look\nabout him: so he opened a door at the end of the hall, and went\nthrough it into a very grand room, in which there was a fine bed; and\nas he was feeling very weary, he shut the door, took off his clothes,\nand got into it.\n\nIt was ten o'clock in the morning before he awoke, when he was amazed\nto see a handsome new suit of clothes laid ready for him, instead of\nhis own, which were all torn and spoiled. \"To be sure,\" said he to\nhimself, \"this place belongs to some good fairy, who has taken pity on\nmy ill luck.\" He looked out of the window, and instead of the\nsnow-covered wood, where he had lost himself the previous night, he\nsaw the most charming arbours covered with all kinds of flowers.\nReturning to the hall where he had supped, he found a breakfast table,\nready prepared. \"Indeed, my good fairy,\" said the merchant aloud, \"I\nam vastly obliged to you for your kind care of me.\" He then made a\nhearty breakfast, took his hat, and was going to the stable to pay his\nhorse a visit; but as he passed under one of the arbours, which was\nloaded with roses, he thought of what Beauty had asked him to bring\nback to her, and so he took a bunch of roses to carry home. At the\nsame moment he heard a loud noise, and saw coming towards him a beast,\nso frightful to look at that he was ready to faint with fear.\n\"Ungrateful man!\" said the beast in a terrible voice, \"I have saved\nyour life by admitting you into my palace, and in return you steal my\nroses, which I value more than anything I possess. But you shall atone\nfor your fault: you shall die in a quarter of an hour.\"\n\nThe merchant fell on his knees, and clasping his hands, said, \"Sir, I\nhumbly beg your pardon: I did not think it would offend you to gather\na rose for one of my daughters, who had entreated me to bring her one\nhome. Do not kill me, my lord!\"\n\n\"I am not a lord, but a beast,\" replied the monster; \"I hate false\ncompliments: so do not fancy that you can coax me by any such ways.\nYou tell me that you have daughters; now I suffer you to escape, if\none of them will come and die in your stead. If not, promise that you\nwill yourself return in three months, to be dealt with as I may\nchoose.\"\n\nThe tender-hearted merchant had no thoughts of letting any one of his\ndaughters die for his sake; but he knew that if he seemed to accept\nthe beast's terms, he should at least have the pleasure of seeing them\nonce again. So he gave his promise, and was told he might then set off\nas soon as he liked. \"But,\" said the beast, \"I do not wish you to go\nback empty-handed. Go to the room you slept in, and you will find a\nchest there; fill it with whatsoever you like best, and I will have it\ntaken to your own house for you.\"\n\nWhen the beast had said this, he went away. The good merchant, left to\nhimself, began to consider that as he must die--for he had no thought\nof breaking a promise, made even to a beast--he might as well have the\ncomfort of leaving his children provided for. He returned to the room\nhe had slept in, and found there heaps of gold pieces lying about. He\nfilled the chest with them to the very brim, locked it, and, mounting\nhis horse, left the palace as sorrowful as he had been glad when he\nfirst beheld it. The horse took a path across the forest of his own\naccord, and in a few hours they reached the merchant's house. His\nchildren came running round him, but, instead of kissing them with\njoy, he could not help weeping as he looked at them. He held in his\nhand the bunch of roses, which he gave to Beauty saying, \"Take these\nroses, Beauty; but little do you think how dear they have cost your\npoor father;\" and then he gave them an account of all that he had seen\nor heard in the palace of the beast.\n\nThe two eldest sisters now began to shed tears, and to lay the blame\nupon Beauty, who, they said, would be the cause of her father's death.\n\"See,\" said they, \"what happens from the pride of the little wretch;\nwhy did not she ask for such things as we did? But, to be sure, Miss\nmust not be like other people; and though she will be the cause of her\nfather's death, yet she does not shed a tear.\"\n\n\"It would be useless,\" replied Beauty, \"for my father shall not die.\nAs the beast will accept of one of his daughters, I will give myself\nup, and be only too happy to prove my love for the best of fathers.\"\n\n\"No, sister,\" said the three brothers with one voice, \"that cannot be;\nwe will go in search of this monster, and either he or we will\nperish.\"\n\n\"Do not hope to kill him,\" said the merchant, \"his power is far too\ngreat. But Beauty's young life shall not be sacrificed: I am old, and\ncannot expect to live much longer; so I shall but give up a few years\nof my life, and shall only grieve for the sake of my children.\"\n\n\"Never, father!\" cried Beauty: \"If you go back to the palace, you\ncannot hinder my going after you; though young, I am not over-fond of\nlife; and I would much rather be eaten up by the monster, than die of\ngrief for your loss.\"\n\nThe merchant in vain tried to reason with Beauty, who still\nobstinately kept to her purpose; which, in truth, made her two sisters\nglad, for they were jealous of her, because everybody loved her.\n\nThe merchant was so grieved at the thoughts of losing his child, that\nhe never once thought of the chest filled with gold, but at night, to\nhis great surprise, he found it standing by his bedside. He said\nnothing about his riches to his eldest daughters, for he knew very\nwell it would at once make them want to return to town; but he told\nBeauty his secret, and she then said, that while he was away, two\ngentlemen had been on a visit at their cottage, who had fallen in love\nwith her two sisters. She entreated her father to marry them without\ndelay, for she was so sweet-natured, she only wished them to be happy.\n\nThree months went by, only too fast, and then the merchant and Beauty\ngot ready to set out for the palace of the beast. Upon this, the two\nsisters rubbed their eyes with an onion, to make believe they were\ncrying; both the merchant and his sons cried in earnest. Only Beauty\nshed no tears. They reached the palace in a very few hours, and the\nhorse, without bidding, went into the same stable as before. The\nmerchant and Beauty walked towards the large hall, where they found a\ntable covered with every dainty, and two plates laid ready. The\nmerchant had very little appetite; but Beauty, that she might the\nbetter hide her grief, placed herself at the table, and helped her\nfather; she then began to eat herself, and thought all the time that,\nto be sure, the beast had a mind to fatten her before he ate her up,\nsince he had provided such good cheer for her. When they had done\ntheir supper, they heard a great noise, and the good old man began to\nbid his poor child farewell, for he knew it was the beast coming to\nthem. When Beauty first saw that frightful form, she was very much\nterrified, but tried to hide her fear. The creature walked up to her,\nand eyed her all over--then asked her in a dreadful voice if she had\ncome quite of her own accord.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Beauty.\n\n\"Then you are a good girl, and I am very much obliged to you.\"\n\nThis was such an astonishingly civil answer that Beauty's courage\nrose: but it sank again when the beast, addressing the merchant,\ndesired him to leave the palace next morning, and never return to it\nagain. \"And so good night, merchant. And good night, Beauty.\"\n\n\"Good night, beast,\" she answered, as the monster shuffled out of the\nroom.\n\n\"Ah! my dear child,\" said the merchant, kissing his daughter, \"I am\nhalf dead already, at the thought of leaving you with this dreadful\nbeast; you shall go back and let me stay in your place.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Beauty, boldly, \"I will never agree to that; you must go\nhome to-morrow morning.\"\n\nThey then wished each other good night, and went to bed, both of them\nthinking they should not be able to close their eyes; but as soon as\never they had lain down, they fell into a deep sleep, and did not\nawake till morning. Beauty dreamed that a lady came up to her, who\nsaid, \"I am very much pleased, Beauty, with the goodness you have\nshown, in being willing to give your life to save that of your father.\nDo not be afraid of anything; you shall not go without a reward.\"\n\nAs soon as Beauty awoke, she told her father this dream; but though it\ngave him some comfort, he was a long time before he could be persuaded\nto leave the palace. At last Beauty succeeded in getting him safely\naway.\n\nWhen her father was out of sight, poor Beauty began to weep sorely;\nstill, having naturally a courageous spirit, she soon resolved not to\nmake her sad case still worse by sorrow, which she knew was vain, but\nto wait and be patient. She walked about to take a view of all the\npalace, and the elegance of every part of it much charmed her.\n\nBut what was her surprise, when she came to a door on which was\nwritten, BEAUTY'S ROOM! She opened it in haste, and her eyes were\ndazzled by the splendour and taste of the apartment. What made her\nwonder more than all the rest, was a large library filled with books,\na harpsichord, and many pieces of music. \"The beast surely does not\nmean to eat me up immediately,\" said she, \"since he takes care I shall\nnot be at a loss how to amuse myself.\" She opened the library and saw\nthese verses written in letters of gold on the back of one of the\nbooks:--\n\n    \"Beauteous lady, dry your tears,\n    Here's no cause for sighs or fears.\n    Command as freely as you may,\n    For you command and I obey.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said she, sighing; \"I wish I could only command a sight of my\npoor father, and to know what he is doing at this moment.\" Just then,\nby chance, she cast her eyes on a looking-glass that stood near her,\nand in it she saw a picture of her old home, and her father riding\nmournfully up to the door. Her sisters came out to meet him, and\nalthough they tried to look sorry, it was easy to see that in their\nhearts they were very glad. In a short time all this picture\ndisappeared, but it caused Beauty to think that the beast, besides\nbeing very powerful, was also very kind. About the middle of the day\nshe found a table laid ready for her, and a sweet concert of music\nplayed all the time she was dining, without her seeing anybody. But at\nsupper, when she was going to seat herself at table, she heard the\nnoise of the beast, and could not help trembling with fear.\n\n\"Beauty,\" said he, \"will you give me leave to see you sup?\"\n\n\"That is as you please,\" answered she, very much afraid.\n\n\"Not in the least,\" said the beast; \"you alone command in this place.\nIf you should not like my company, you need only say so, and I will\nleave you that moment. But tell me, Beauty, do you not think me very\nugly?\"\n\n\"Why, yes,\" said she, \"for I cannot tell a falsehood; but then I think\nyou are very good.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" sadly replied the beast; \"yet, besides being ugly, I am also\nvery stupid: I know well enough that I am but a beast.\"\n\n\"Very stupid people,\" said Beauty, \"are never aware of it themselves.\"\n\nAt which kindly speech the beast looked pleased, and replied, not\nwithout an awkward sort of politeness, \"Pray do not let me detain you\nfrom supper, and be sure that you are well served. All you see is your\nown, and I should be deeply grieved if you wanted for any thing.\"\n\n\"You are very kind--so kind that I almost forgot you are so ugly,\"\nsaid Beauty, earnestly.\n\n\"Ah! yes,\" answered the beast, with a great sigh; \"I hope I am\ngood-tempered, but still I am only a monster.\"\n\n\"There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of\nthe two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster.\"\n\n\"I would thank you, Beauty, for this speech, but I am too senseless to\nsay anything that would please you,\" returned the beast in a\nmelancholy voice; and altogether he seemed so gentle and so unhappy,\nthat Beauty, who had the tenderest heart in the world, felt her fear\nof him gradually vanish.\n\nShe ate her supper with a good appetite, and conversed in her own\nsensible and charming way, till at last, when the beast rose to\ndepart, he terrified her more than ever by saying abruptly, in his\ngruff voice, \"Beauty, will you marry me!\"\n\nNow Beauty, frightened as she was, would speak only the exact truth;\nbesides, her father had told her that the beast liked only to have\nthe truth spoken to him. So she answered, in a very firm tone, \"No,\nbeast.\"\n\nHe did not go into a passion, or do anything but sigh deeply, and\ndepart.\n\nWhen Beauty found herself alone, she began to feel pity for the poor\nbeast. \"Oh!\" said she, \"what a sad thing it is that he should be so\nvery frightful, since he is so good-tempered!\"\n\nBeauty lived three months in this palace very well pleased. The beast\ncame to see her every night, and talked with her while she supped; and\nthough what he said was not very clever, yet, as she saw in him every\nday some new goodness, instead of dreading the time of his coming, she\nsoon began continually looking at her watch, to see if it were nine\no'clock; for that was the hour when he never failed to visit her. One\nthing only vexed her, which was that every night before he went away,\nhe always made it a rule to ask her if she would be his wife, and\nseemed very much grieved at her steadfastly replying \"No.\" At last,\none night, she said to him, \"You wound me greatly, beast, by forcing\nme to refuse you so often; I wish I could take such a liking to you as\nto agree to marry you: but I must tell you plainly, that I do not\nthink it will ever happen. I shall always be your friend; so try to\nlet that content you.\"\n\n\"I must,\" sighed the beast, \"for I know well enough how frightful I\nam; but I love you better than myself. Yet I think I am very lucky in\nyour being pleased to stay with me: now promise me, Beauty, that you\nwill never leave me.\"\n\nBeauty would almost have agreed to this, so sorry was she for him, but\nshe had that day seen in her magic glass, which she looked at\nconstantly, that her father was dying of grief for her sake.\n\n\"Alas!\" she said, \"I long so much to see my father, that if you do not\ngive me leave to visit him, I shall break my heart.\"\n\n\"I would rather break mine, Beauty,\" answered the beast; \"I will send\nyou to your father's cottage: you shall stay there, and your poor\nbeast shall die of sorrow.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Beauty, crying, \"I love you too well to be the cause of\nyour death; I promise to return in a week. You have shown me that my\nsisters are married, and my brothers are gone for soldiers, so that my\nfather is left all alone. Let me stay a week with him.\"\n\n\"You shall find yourself with him to-morrow morning,\" replied the\nbeast; \"but mind, do not forget your promise. When you wish to return,\nyou have nothing to do but to put your ring on a table when you go to\nbed. Good-bye, Beauty!\" The beast sighed as he said these words, and\nBeauty went to bed very sorry to see him so much grieved. When she\nawoke in the morning, she found herself in her father's cottage. She\nrang a bell that was at her bedside, and a servant entered; but as\nsoon as she saw Beauty, the woman gave a loud shriek; upon which the\nmerchant ran upstairs, and when he beheld his daughter he ran to her,\nand kissed her a hundred times. At last Beauty began to remember that\nshe had brought no clothes with her to put on; but the servant told\nher she had just found in the next room a large chest full of dresses,\ntrimmed all over with gold, and adorned with pearls and diamonds.\n\nBeauty, in her own mind, thanked the beast for his kindness, and put\non the plainest gown she could find among them all. She then desired\nthe servant to lay the rest aside, for she intended to give them to\nher sisters; but, as soon as she had spoken these words, the chest was\ngone out of sight in a moment. Her father then suggested, perhaps the\nbeast chose for her to keep them all for herself: and as soon as he\nhad said this, they saw the chest standing again in the same place.\nWhile Beauty was dressing herself, a servant brought word to her that\nher sisters were come with their husbands to pay her a visit. They\nboth lived unhappily with the gentlemen they had married. The husband\nof the eldest was very handsome, but was so proud of this, that he\nthought of nothing else from morning till night, and did not care a\npin for the beauty of his wife. The second had married a man of great\nlearning; but he made no use of it, except to torment and affront all\nhis friends, and his wife more than any of them. The two sisters were\nready to burst with spite when they saw Beauty dressed like a\nprincess, and looking so very charming. All the kindness that she\nshowed them was of no use; for they were vexed more than ever when she\ntold them how happy she lived at the palace of the beast. The\nspiteful creatures went by themselves into the garden, where they\ncried to think of her good fortune.\n\n\"Why should the little wretch be better off than we?\" said they. \"We\nare much handsomer than she is.\"\n\n\"Sister!\" said the eldest, \"a thought has just come into my head: let\nus try to keep her here longer than the week for which the beast gave\nher leave; and then he will be so angry, that perhaps when she goes\nback to him he will eat her up in a moment.\"\n\n\"That is well thought of,\" answered the other, \"but to do this, we\nmust pretend to be very kind.\"\n\nThey then went to join her in the cottage, where they showed her so\nmuch false love, that Beauty could not help crying for joy.\n\nWhen the week was ended, the two sisters began to pretend such grief\nat the thought of her leaving them, that she agreed to stay a week\nmore: but all that time Beauty could not help fretting for the sorrow\nthat she knew her absence would give her poor beast; for she tenderly\nloved him, and much wished for his company again. Among all the grand\nand clever people she saw, she found nobody who was half so sensible,\nso affectionate, so thoughtful, or so kind. The tenth night of her\nbeing at the cottage, she dreamed she was in the garden of the palace,\nthat the beast lay dying on a grass-plot, and with his last breath put\nher in mind of her promise, and laid his death to her forsaking him.\nBeauty awoke in a great fright, and burst into tears. \"Am not I\nwicked,\" said she, \"to behave so ill to a beast who has shown me so\nmuch kindness? Why will not I marry him? I am sure I should be more\nhappy with him than my sisters are with their husbands. He shall not\nbe wretched any longer on my account; for I should do nothing but\nblame myself all the rest of my life.\"\n\nShe then rose, put her ring on the table, got into bed again, and soon\nfell asleep. In the morning she with joy found herself in the palace\nof the beast. She dressed herself very carefully, that she might\nplease him the better, and thought she had never known a day pass away\nso slowly. At last the clock struck nine, but the beast did not come.\nBeauty, dreading lest she might truly have caused his death, ran from\nroom to room, calling out, \"Beast, dear beast;\" but there was no\nanswer. At last she remembered her dream, rushed to the grass-plot,\nand there saw him lying apparently dead beside the fountain.\nForgetting all his ugliness, she threw herself upon his body, and,\nfinding his heart still beat, she fetched some water and sprinkled it\nover him, weeping and sobbing the while.\n\nThe beast opened his eyes: \"You forgot your promise, Beauty, and so I\ndetermined to die; for I could not live without you. I have starved\nmyself to death, but I shall die content since I have seen your face\nonce more.\"\n\n\"No, dear beast,\" cried Beauty, passionately, \"you shall not die; you\nshall live to be my husband. I thought it was only friendship I felt\nfor you, but now I know it was love.\"\n\nThe moment Beauty had spoken these words, the palace was suddenly\nlighted up, and all kinds of rejoicings were heard around them, none\nwhich she noticed, but hung over her dear beast with the utmost\ntenderness. At last, unable to restrain herself, she dropped her head\nover her hands, covered her eyes, and cried for joy; and, when she\nlooked up again, the beast was gone. In his stead she saw at her feet\na handsome, graceful young prince, who thanked her with the tenderest\nexpressions for having freed him from enchantment.\n\n\"But where is my poor beast? I only want him and nobody else,\" sobbed\nBeauty.\n\n\"I am he,\" replied the Prince. \"A wicked fairy condemned me to this\nform, and forbade me to show that I had any wit or sense, till a\nbeautiful lady should consent to marry me. You alone, dearest Beauty,\njudged me neither by my looks nor by my talents, but by my heart\nalone. Take it then, and all that I have besides, for all is yours.\"\n\nBeauty, full of surprise, but very happy, suffered the prince to lead\nher to his palace, where she found her father and sisters, who had\nbeen brought there by the fairy-lady whom she had seen in a dream the\nfirst night she came.\n\n\"Beauty,\" said the fairy, \"you have chosen well, and you have your\nreward, for a true heart is better than either good looks or clever\nbrains. As for you, ladies,\" and she turned to the two elder sisters,\n\"I know all your ill deeds, but I have no worse punishment for you\nthan to see your sister happy. You shall stand as statues at the door\nof her palace, and when you repent of and have amended your faults,\nyou shall become women again. But, to tell you the truth, I very much\nfear you will remain statues for ever.\"\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE ONE EYE, LITTLE TWO EYES,\n\nAND\n\nLittle Three Eyes.\n\n\nThere was a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was\ncalled Little One Eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of\nher forehead; the second, Little Two Eyes, because she had two eyes\nlike other people; and the youngest, Little Three Eyes, because she\nhad three eyes, one of them being also in the middle of the forehead.\nBut because Little Two Eyes looked no different from other people, her\nsisters and mother could not bear her. They said, \"You with your two\neyes are no better than anybody else; you do not belong to us.\" They\nknocked her about, and gave her shabby clothes, and food which was\nleft over from their own meals; in short, they vexed her whenever they\ncould.\n\nIt happened that Little Two Eyes had to go out into the fields to look\nafter the goat; but she was still quite hungry, because her sisters\nhad given her so little to eat. She sat down on a hillock and began to\ncry, and cried so much that two little streams ran down out of each\neye. And as she looked up once in her sorrow, a woman stood near her,\nwho asked, \"Little Two Eyes, why do you cry?\"\n\nLittle Two Eyes answered, \"Have I not need to cry? Because I have two\neyes, like other people, my sisters and my mother cannot bear me; they\npush me out of one corner into the other, give me shabby clothes, and\nnothing to eat but what they leave. To-day they have given me so\nlittle that I am still quite hungry.\"\n\nThe wise woman said, \"Little Two Eyes, dry your tears, and I will tell\nyou something which will keep you from ever being hungry more. Only\nsay to your goat, 'Little goat, bleat; little table, rise,' and a\nneatly-laid table will stand before you with the most delicious food\non it, so that you can eat as much as you like. And when you are\nsatisfied and do not want the table any more, only say, 'Little goat,\nbleat; little table, away,' and it will all disappear before your\neyes.\" Then the wise woman went out of sight.\n\nLittle Two Eyes thought, \"I must try directly if it is true what she\nhas said, for I am much too hungry to wait.\" So she said, \"Little\ngoat, bleat; little table, rise;\" and scarcely had she uttered the\nwords, when there stood before her a little table, covered with a\nwhite cloth, on which was laid a plate, knife and fork, and silver\nspoon. The most delicious food was there also, and smoking hot, as if\njust come from the kitchen. Then Little Two Eyes said the shortest\ngrace that she knew, \"Lord God, be our guest at all times.--Amen,\"\nbegan to eat, and found it very good. And when she had had enough, she\nsaid as the wise woman had taught her--\"Little goat, bleat; little\ntable, away.\" In an instant the little table, and all that stood on\nit, had disappeared again. \"That is a beautiful, easy way of\nhousekeeping,\" thought Little Two Eyes, and was quite happy and merry.\n\nIn the evening, when she came home with her goat, she found a little\nearthen dish with food, which her sisters had put aside for her, but\nshe did not touch anything--she had no need. On the next day she went\nout again with her goat, and let the few crusts that were given her\nremain uneaten. The first time and the second time the sisters took no\nnotice; but when the same thing happened every day, they remarked it,\nand said, \"All is not right with Little Two Eyes; she always leaves\nher food, and she used formerly to eat up everything that was given\nher; she must have found other ways of dining.\"\n\nIn order to discover the truth, they resolved that Little One Eye\nshould go with Little Two Eyes when she drove the goat into the\nmeadow, and see what she did there, and whether anybody brought her\nanything to eat and drink. So when Little Two Eyes set out again,\nLittle One Eye came to her and said, \"I will go with you into the\nfield, and see that the goat is taken proper care of, and driven to\ngood pasture.\"\n\nBut Little Two Eyes saw what Little One Eye had in her mind, and drove\nthe goat into long grass, saying, \"Come, Little One Eye, we will sit\ndown; I will sing you something.\" Little One Eye sat down, being tired\nfrom the unusual walk and from the heat of the sun, and Little Two\nEyes kept on singing, \"Are you awake, Little One Eye? Are you asleep,\nLittle One Eye?\" Then Little One Eye shut her one eye, and fell\nasleep. And when Little Two Eyes saw that Little One Eye was fast\nasleep, and could not betray anything, she said, \"Little goat, bleat;\nlittle table, rise,\" and sat herself at her table, and ate and drank\ntill she was satisfied; then she called out again, \"Little goat,\nbleat; little table, away,\" and instantly everything disappeared.\n\nLittle Two Eyes now woke Little One Eye, and said, \"Little One Eye,\nyou pretend to watch, and fall asleep over it, and in the meantime the\ngoat could have run all over the world; come, we will go home.\" Then\nthey went home, and Little Two Eyes let her little dish again stand\nuntouched; and Little One Eye, who could not tell the mother why her\nsister would not eat, said, as an excuse, \"Oh, I fell asleep out\nthere.\"\n\nThe next day the mother said to Little Three Eyes, \"This time you\nshall go and see if Little Two Eyes eats out of doors, and if anyone\nbrings her food and drink, for she must eat and drink secretly.\"\n\nThen Little Three Eyes went to Little Two Eyes, and said, \"I will go\nwith you and see whether the goat is taken proper care of, and driven\nto good pasture.\" But Little Two Eyes saw what Little Three Eyes had\nin her mind, and drove the goat into long grass, and said as before,\n\"We will sit down here, Little Three Eyes; I will sing you\nsomething.\" Little Three Eyes seated herself, being tired from the\nwalk and the heat of the sun, and Little Two Eyes began the same song\nagain, and sang, \"Are you awake, Little Three Eyes?\" But instead of\nsinging then as she should, \"Are you asleep, Little _Three_ Eyes?\" she\nsang, through carelessness, \"Are you asleep, Little _Two_ Eyes?\" and\nwent on singing, \"Are you awake, Little Three Eyes? Are you asleep,\nLittle _Two_ Eyes?\" So the two eyes of Little Three Eyes fell asleep,\nbut the third did not go to sleep, because it was not spoken to by the\nverse. Little Three Eyes, to be sure, shut it, and made believe to go\nto sleep, but only through slyness; for she winked with it, and could\nsee everything quite well. And when Little Two Eyes thought that\nLittle Three Eyes was fast asleep, she said her little sentence,\n\"Little goat, bleat; little table, rise,\" ate and drank heartily, and\nthen told the little table to go away again, \"Little goat, bleat;\nlittle table away.\" But Little Three Eyes had seen everything. Then\nLittle Two Eyes came to her, woke her, and said, \"Ah! Little Three\nEyes, have you been asleep? you keep watch well! come, we will go\nhome.\" And when they got home, Little Two Eyes again did not eat, and\nLittle Three Eyes said to the mother, \"I know why the proud thing does\nnot eat: when she says to the goat out there, 'Little goat, bleat;\nlittle table, rise,' there stands a table before her, which is covered\nwith the very best food, much better than we have here; and when she\nis satisfied, she says, 'Little goat, bleat; little table away,' and\neverything is gone again; I have seen it all exactly. She put two of\nmy eyes to sleep with her little verse, but the one on my forehead\nluckily remained awake.\"\n\nThen the envious mother cried out, \"Shall she be better off than we\nare?\" fetched a butcher's knife and stuck it into the goat's heart, so\nthat it fell down dead.\n\nWhen Little Two Eyes saw that, she went out full of grief, seated\nherself on a hillock, and wept bitter tears. All at once the wise\nwoman stood near her again, and said, \"Little Two Eyes, why do you\ncry?\"\n\n\"Shall I not cry?\" answered she. \"The goat who every day, when I said\nyour little verse, laid the table so beautifully, has been killed by\nmy mother; now I must suffer hunger and thirst again.\"\n\nThe wise woman said, \"Little Two Eyes, I will give you some good\nadvice; beg your sisters to give you the heart of the murdered goat,\nand bury it in the ground before the house-door, and it will turn out\nlucky for you.\" Then she disappeared, and Little Two Eyes went home\nand said to her sisters, \"Dear sisters, give me some part of my goat;\nI don't ask for anything good, only give me the heart.\"\n\nThen they laughed and said, \"You can have that, if you do not want\nanything else.\" Little Two Eyes took the heart, and buried it quietly\nin the evening before the house-door, after the advice of the wise\nwoman.\n\nNext morning, when the sisters woke, and went to the house-door\ntogether, there stood a most wonderful splendid tree, with leaves of\nsilver, and fruit of gold hanging between them. Nothing more beautiful\nor charming could be seen in the wide world. But they did not know how\nthe tree had come there in the night. Little Two Eyes alone noticed\nthat it had grown out of the heart of the goat, for it stood just\nwhere she had buried it in the ground.\n\nThen the mother said to Little One Eye, \"Climb up, my child, and\ngather us some fruit from the tree.\"\n\nLittle One Eye climbed up, but when she wanted to seize a golden\napple, the branch sprang out of her hand; this happened every time, so\nthat she could not gather a single apple, though she tried as much as\nshe could.\n\nThen the mother said, \"Little Three Eyes, do you climb up; you can see\nbetter about you with your three eyes than Little One Eye can.\"\n\nLittle One Eye scrambled down, and Little Three Eyes climbed up. But\nLittle Three Eyes was no cleverer, and might look about her as much as\nshe liked--the golden apples always sprang back from her grasp. At\nlast the mother became impatient, and climbed up herself, but could\ntouch the fruit just as little as Little One Eye or Little Three Eyes;\nshe always grasped the empty air.\n\nThen Little Two Eyes said, \"I will go up myself; perhaps I shall\nprosper better.\"\n\n\"You!\" cried the sisters. \"With your two eyes, what can you do?\"\n\nBut Little Two Eyes climbed up and the golden apples did not spring\naway from her, but dropped of themselves into her hand, so that she\ncould gather one after the other, and brought down a whole apron full.\nHer mother took them from her, and instead of her sisters, Little One\nEye and Little Three Eyes, behaving better to poor Little Two Eyes for\nit, they were only envious because she alone could get the fruit, and\nbehaved still more cruelly to her.\n\nIt happened, as they stood together by the tree, one day, that a young\nknight came by.\n\n\"Quick, Little Two Eyes,\" cried the two sisters, \"creep under, so that\nwe may not be ashamed of you,\" and threw over poor Little Two Eyes, in\na great hurry, an empty cask that stood just by the tree, and pushed\nalso beside her the golden apples which she had broken off.\n\nNow, as the knight came nearer, he proved to be a handsome prince, who\nstood still, admired the beautiful tree of gold and silver, and said\nto the two sisters--\n\n\"To whom does this beautiful tree belong? She who gives me a branch of\nit shall have whatever she wishes.\"\n\nThen Little One Eye and Little Three Eyes answered that the tree was\ntheirs, and they would break off a branch for him. They both of them\ngave themselves a great deal of trouble, but it was no use, for the\nbranches and fruit sprang back from them every time. Then the knight\nsaid--\n\n\"It is very wonderful that the tree belongs to you, and yet you have\nnot the power of gathering anything from it.\"\n\nThey insisted, however, that the tree was their own property. But as\nthey spoke, Little Two Eyes rolled a few golden apples from under the\ncask, so that they ran to the feet of the knight; for Little Two Eyes\nwas angry that Little One Eye and Little Three Eyes did not tell the\ntruth.\n\nWhen the knight saw the apples he was astonished, and asked where they\ncame from. Little One Eye and Little Three Eyes answered that they had\nanother sister, who might not, however, show herself, because she had\nonly two eyes, like other common people. But the knight desired to see\nher, and called out, \"Little Two Eyes, come out.\" Then Little Two Eyes\ncame out of the cask quite comforted, and the knight was astonished at\nher great beauty, and said--\n\n\"You, Little Two Eyes, can certainly gather me a branch from the\ntree?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Little Two Eyes, \"I can do that, for the tree belongs\nto me.\" And she climbed up and easily broke off a branch, with its\nsilver leaves and golden fruit, and handed it to the knight.\n\nThen the knight said, \"Little Two Eyes, what shall I give you for it?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered Little Two Eyes, \"I suffer hunger and thirst, sorrow\nand want, from early morning till late evening; if you would take me\nwith you and free me, I should be happy.\"\n\nThen the knight lifted Little Two Eyes on to his horse, and took her\nhome to his paternal castle; there he gave her beautiful clothes,\nfood, and drink as much as she wanted, and because he loved her so\nmuch he married her, and the marriage was celebrated with great joy.\n\nNow, when Little Two Eyes was taken away by the handsome knight, the\ntwo sisters envied her very much her happiness. \"The wonderful tree\nremains for us, though,\" thought they; \"and even though we cannot\ngather any fruit off it, every one will stand still before it, come to\nus, and praise it.\" But the next morning the tree had disappeared, and\nall their hopes with it.\n\nLittle Two Eyes lived happy a long time. Once two poor women came to\nher at the castle and begged alms. Then Little Two Eyes looked in\ntheir faces and recognised her sisters, Little One Eye and Little\nThree Eyes, who had fallen into such poverty that they had to wander\nabout, and seek their bread from door to door. Little Two Eyes,\nhowever, bade them welcome, and was very good to them, and took care\nof them; for they both repented from their hearts the evil they had\ndone to their sister in their youth.\n\n\n\n\nJACK THE GIANT-KILLER.\n\n\nIn the reign of the famous King Arthur, there lived, near the Land's\nEnd of England, in the county of Cornwall, a worthy farmer, who had an\nonly son named Jack. Jack was a boy of a bold temper; he took pleasure\nin hearing or reading stories of wizards, conjurors, giants, and\nfairies; and used to listen eagerly while his father talked of the\ngreat deeds of the brave knights of King Arthur's Round Table. When\nJack was sent to take care of the sheep and oxen in the fields, he\nused to amuse himself with planning battles, sieges, and the means to\nconquer or surprise a foe. He was above the common sports of children,\nbut hardly any one could equal him at wrestling; or, if he met with a\nmatch for himself in strength, his skill and address always made him\nthe victor. In those days there lived on St. Michael's Mount, of\nCornwall, which rises out of the sea at some distance from the\nmainland, a huge giant. He was eighteen feet high, and three yards\nround; and his fierce and savage looks were the terror of all his\nneighbors. He dwelt in a gloomy cavern on the very top of the\nmountain, and used to wade over to the mainland in search of his prey.\nWhen he came near, the people left their houses; and, after he had\nglutted his appetite upon their cattle, he would throw half a dozen\noxen upon his back, and tie three times as many sheep and hogs round\nhis waist, and so march back to his own abode. The giant had done this\nfor many years, and the coast of Cornwall was greatly hurt by his\nthefts, when Jack boldly resolved to destroy him. He therefore took a\nhorn, a shovel, a pickaxe, and a dark lantern, and, early in a long\nwinter's evening, he swam to the Mount. There he fell to work at once,\nand before morning he had dug a pit twenty-two feet deep, and almost\nas many broad. He covered it over with sticks and straw, and strewed\nsome of the earth over them, to make it look just like solid ground.\nHe then put his horn to his mouth, and blew such a loud and long\ntantivy, that the giant awoke, and came towards Jack, roaring like\nthunder: \"You saucy villain, you shall pay dearly for breaking my\nrest; I will broil you for my breakfast.\" He had scarcely spoken these\nwords, when he came advancing one step further; but then he tumbled\nheadlong into the pit, and his fall shook the very mountain.\n\n\"O ho, Mr. Giant!\" said Jack, looking into the pit, \"have you found\nyour way so soon to the bottom? How is your appetite now? Will nothing\nserve you for breakfast this cold morning but broiling poor Jack?\"\n\nThe giant now tried to rise, but Jack struck him a blow on the crown\nof the head with his pickaxe, which killed him at once. Jack then made\nhaste back, to rejoice his friends with the news of the giant's\ndeath. When the justices of Cornwall heard of this valiant action,\nthey sent for Jack, and declared that he should always be called Jack\nthe Giant Killer; and they also gave him a sword and belt, upon which\nwas written, in letters of gold:--\n\n    \"This is the valiant Cornishman\n    Who slew the giant Cormoran.\"\n\nThe news of Jack's exploits soon spread over the western parts of\nEngland: and another giant, called Old Blunderbore, vowed to have\nrevenge on Jack, if it should ever be his fortune to get him into his\npower. The giant kept an enchanted castle in the midst of a lonely\nwood. About four months after the death of Cormoran, as Jack was\ntaking a journey into Wales, he passed through this wood; and, as he\nwas very weary, he sat down to rest by the side of a pleasant\nfountain, and there he fell into a deep sleep. The giant came to the\nfountain for water just at this time, and found Jack there; and as the\nlines on Jack's belt showed who he was, the giant lifted him up and\nlaid him gently upon his shoulder, to carry him to his castle; but, as\nhe passed through the thicket, the rustling of the leaves waked Jack;\nand he was sadly afraid when he found himself in the clutches of\nBlunderbore. Yet this was nothing to his fright soon after; for, when\nthey reached the castle, he beheld the floor covered all over with the\nskulls and bones of men and women. The giant took him into a large\nroom, where lay the hearts and limbs of persons who had been lately\nkilled; and he told Jack, with a horrid grin, that men's hearts, eaten\nwith pepper and vinegar, were his nicest food, and also, that he\nthought he should make a dainty meal on his heart. When he had said\nthis, he locked Jack up in that room, while he went to fetch another\ngiant, who lived in the same wood, to enjoy a dinner off Jack's flesh\nwith him. While he was away, Jack heard dreadful shrieks, groans, and\ncries from many parts of the castle; and soon after he heard a\nmournful voice repeat these lines:--\n\n    \"Haste, valiant stranger, haste away,\n    Lest you become the giant's prey.\n    On his return he'll bring another,\n    Still more savage than his brother;\n    A horrid, cruel monster, who,\n    Before he kills, will torture you.\n    Oh valiant stranger! haste away,\n    Or you'll become these giants' prey.\"\n\nThis warning was so shocking to poor Jack, that he was ready to go\nmad. He ran to the window, and saw the two giants coming along arm in\narm. This window was right over the gates of the castle. \"Now,\"\nthought Jack, \"either my death or freedom is at hand.\"\n\nThere were two strong cords in the room. Jack made a large noose, with\na slip-knot at the ends of both these, and, as the giants were coming\nthrough the gates, he threw the ropes over their heads. He then made\nthe other ends fast to a beam in the ceiling, and pulled with all his\nmight, till he had almost strangled them. When he saw that they were\nboth quite black in the face, and had not the least strength left, he\ndrew his sword, and slid down the ropes; he then killed the giants,\nand thus saved himself from a cruel death. Jack next took a great\nbunch of keys from the pocket of Blunderbore, and went into the castle\nagain. He made a strict search through all the rooms, and in them\nfound three ladies tied up by the hair of their heads, and almost\nstarved to death. They told him that their husbands had been killed by\nthe giants, who had then condemned them to be starved to death,\nbecause they would not eat the flesh of their own dead husbands.\n\n\"Ladies,\" said Jack, \"I have put an end to the monster and his wicked\nbrother; and I give you this castle and all the riches it contains, to\nmake you some amends for the dreadful pains you have felt.\" He then\nvery politely gave them the keys of the castle, and went further on\nhis journey to Wales.\n\nAs Jack had not taken any of the giant's riches for himself, and had\nvery little money of his own, he thought it best to travel as fast as\nhe could. At length he lost his way; and, when night came on, he was\nin a lonely valley between two lofty mountains. There he walked about\nfor some hours, without seeing any dwelling-place, so he thought\nhimself very lucky at last in finding a large and handsome house. He\nwent up to it boldly, and knocked loudly at the gate; when, to his\ngreat terror and surprise, there came forth a monstrous giant with two\nheads. He spoke to Jack very civilly, for he was a Welsh giant, and\nall the mischief he did was by private and secret malice, under the\nshow of friendship and kindness. Jack told him that he was a traveller\nwho had lost his way, on which the huge monster made him welcome, and\nled him into a room, where there was a good bed in which to pass the\nnight. Jack took off his clothes quickly; but though he was so weary,\nhe could not go to sleep. Soon after this, he heard the giant walking\nbackward and forward in the next room, and saying to himself:--\n\n    \"Though here you lodge with me this night,\n    You shall not see the morning light;\n    My club shall dash your brains out quite.\"\n\n\"Say you so?\" thought Jack. \"Are these your tricks upon travellers?\nBut I hope to prove as cunning as you.\" Then getting out of bed, he\ngroped about the room, and at last found a large thick billet of wood;\nhe laid it in his own place in the bed, and hid himself in a dark\ncorner of the room. In the middle of the night the giant came with his\ngreat club, and struck many heavy blows on the bed, in the very place\nwhere Jack had laid the billet, and then he went back to his own room,\nthinking he had broken all his bones. Early in the morning, Jack put a\nbold face upon the matter, and walked into the giant's room to thank\nhim for his lodging.\n\nThe giant started when he saw him, and he began to stammer out, \"Oh,\ndear me! is it you? Pray how did you sleep last night? Did you hear or\nsee anything in the dead of the night?\"\n\n\"Nothing worth speaking of,\" said Jack, carelessly; \"a rat, I\nbelieve, gave me three or four slaps with his tail, and disturbed me a\nlittle, but I soon went to sleep again.\"\n\nThe giant wondered more and more at this; yet he did not answer a\nword, and went to bring two great bowls of hasty-pudding for their\nbreakfast.\n\nJack wished to make the giant believe that he could eat as much as\nhimself; so he contrived to button a leathern bag inside his coat, and\nslipped the hasty-pudding into this bag, while he seemed to put it\ninto his mouth. When breakfast was over, he said to the giant, \"Now I\nwill show you a fine trick; I can cure all wounds with a touch; I\ncould cut off my head one minute, and the next put it sound again on\nmy shoulders: you shall see an example.\" He then took hold of the\nknife, ripped up the leathern bag, and all the hasty-pudding tumbled\nout upon the floor.\n\n\"Ods splutter hur nails,\" cried the Welsh giant, who was ashamed to be\noutdone by such a little fellow as Jack; \"hur can do that hurself.\" So\nhe snatched up the knife, plunged it into his stomach, and in a moment\ndropped down dead.\n\nAs soon as Jack had thus tricked the Welsh monster, he went farther on\nhis journey; and, a few days after, he met with King Arthur's only\nson, who had got his father's leave to travel into Wales, to deliver a\nbeautiful lady from the power of a wicked magician, by whom she was\nheld in enchantment. When Jack found that the young prince had no\nservants with him, he begged leave to attend him; and the prince at\nonce agreed to this, and gave Jack many thanks for his kindness.\n\nKing Arthur's son was a handsome, polite, and brave knight, and so\ngood-natured, that he gave money to everybody he met. At length he\ngave his last penny to an old woman, and then turned to Jack, \"How\nshall we be able to get food for ourselves the rest of our journey?\"\n\n\"Leave that to me, sir,\" replied Jack; \"I will provide for my prince.\"\n\nNight now came on, and the prince began to grow uneasy at thinking\nwhere they should lodge.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Jack, \"be of good heart; two miles further there lives a\nlarge giant, whom I know well; he has three heads, and will fight five\nhundred men, and make them fly before him.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the king's son, \"we had better never have been born than\nmeet with such a monster.\"\n\n\"My lord, leave me to manage him, and wait here in quiet till I\nreturn.\"\n\nThe prince now stayed behind, while Jack rode on at full speed; and\nwhen he came to the gates of the castle, he gave a loud knock. The\ngiant, with a voice like thunder, roared out, \"Who is there?\"\n\nJack made answer, and said, \"No one but your poor cousin Jack.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the giant, \"what news, cousin Jack?\"\n\n\"Dear uncle,\" said Jack, \"I have heavy news.\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" said the giant, \"what heavy news can come to me? I am a giant\nwith three heads, and can fight five hundred men, and make them fly\nbefore me.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Jack, \"here's the king's son coming with two thousand men\nto kill you, and to destroy the castle and all that you have.\"\n\n\"Oh, cousin Jack,\" said the giant, \"this is heavy news indeed! But I\nhave a large cellar underground, where I will hide myself, and you\nshall lock, bolt, and bar me in, and keep the keys till the king's son\nis gone.\"\n\nNow, when Jack had barred the giant fast in the vault, he went back\nand fetched the prince to the castle; they both made themselves merry\nwith the wine and other dainties that were in the house. So that night\nthey rested very pleasantly while the poor giant lay trembling and\nshaking with fear in the cellar underground. Early in the morning,\nJack gave the king's son gold and silver out of the giant's treasure,\nand accompanied him three miles forward on his journey. The prince\nthen sent Jack to let his uncle out of the hole, who asked him what he\nshould give him as a reward for saving his castle.\n\n\"Why, good uncle,\" said Jack, \"I desire nothing but the old coat and\ncap, with the old rusty sword and slippers, which are hanging at your\nbed's head.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the giant, \"you shall have them: and pray keep them for\nmy sake, for they are things of great use. The coat will keep you\ninvisible, the cap will give you knowledge, the sword will cut\nthrough anything, and the shoes are of vast swiftness; they may be\nuseful to you in all times of danger, so take them with all my heart.\"\n\nJack gave many thanks to the giant, and then set off to the prince.\nWhen he had come up to the king's son, they soon arrived at the\ndwelling of the beautiful lady, who was under the power of a wicked\nmagician. She received the prince very politely, and made a noble\nfeast for him: when it was ended, she rose, and, wiping her mouth with\na fine handkerchief, said, \"My lord, you must submit to the custom of\nmy palace; to-morrow morning I command you to tell me on whom I bestow\nthis handkerchief, or lose your head.\" She then left the room.\n\nThe young prince went to bed very mournful, but Jack put on his cap of\nknowledge, which told him that the lady was forced, by the power of\nenchantment, to meet the wicked magician every night in the middle of\nthe forest. Jack now put on his coat of darkness, and his shoes of\nswiftness, and was there before her. When the lady came, she gave the\nhandkerchief to the magician. Jack, with his sword of sharpness, at\none blow cut off his head; the enchantment was then ended in a moment,\nand the lady was restored to her former virtue and goodness. She was\nmarried to the prince on the next day, and soon after went back, with\nher royal husband and a great company, to the court of King Arthur,\nwhere they were received with loud and joyful welcomes; and the\nvaliant hero Jack, for the many great exploits he had done for the\ngood of his country, was made one of the knights of the Round Table.\n\nAs Jack had been so lucky in all his adventures, he resolved not to be\nidle for the future, but still to do what services he could for the\nhonour of the king and the nation. He therefore humbly begged his\nmajesty to furnish him with a horse and money, that he might travel in\nsearch of new and strange exploits. \"For,\" said he to the king, \"there\nare many giants yet living in the remote parts of Wales, to the great\nterror and distress of your majesty's subjects; therefore, if it\nplease you, sire, to favour me in my design, I will soon rid your\nkingdom of these giants and monsters in human shape.\"\n\nNow when the king heard this offer, and began to think of the cruel\ndeeds of these blood-thirsty giants and savage monsters, he gave Jack\neverything proper for such a journey. After this, Jack took leave of\nthe king, the prince, and all the knights, and set off; taking with\nhim his cap of knowledge, his sword of sharpness, his shoes of\nswiftness, and his invisible coat, the better to perform the great\nexploits that might fall in his way. He went along over hills and\nmountains; and on the third day he came to a wide forest. He had\nhardly entered it, when on a sudden he heard dreadful shrieks and\ncries; and forcing his way through the trees, saw a monstrous giant\ndragging along by the hair of their heads, a handsome knight and a\nbeautiful lady. Their tears and cries melted the heart of honest\nJack; he alighted from his horse, and tying him to an oak-tree, put on\nhis invisible coat, under which he carried his sword of sharpness.\n\nWhen he came up to the giant, he made several strokes at him, but\ncould not reach his body, on account of the enormous height of the\nterrible creature; but he wounded his thighs in several places; and at\nlength, putting both hands to his sword, and aiming with all his\nmight, he cut off both the giant's legs just below the garter; and the\ntrunk of his body, tumbling to the ground, made not only the trees\nshake, but the earth itself tremble with the force of his fall. Then\nJack, setting his foot upon his neck, exclaimed: \"Thou barbarous and\nsavage wretch, behold, I come to execute upon thee the just reward for\nall thy crimes;\" and instantly plunged his sword into the giant's\nbody. The huge monster gave a groan, and yielded up his life into the\nhands of the victorious Jack the Giant-Killer, whilst the noble knight\nand the virtuous lady were both joyful spectators of his sudden death.\nThey not only returned Jack hearty thanks for their deliverance, but\nalso invited him to their house, to refresh himself after his dreadful\nencounter, as likewise to receive a reward for his good services.\n\n\"No,\" said Jack, \"I cannot be at ease till I find out the den that was\nthe monster's habitation.\"\n\nThe knight, on hearing this, grew very sorrowful, and replied: \"Noble\nstranger, it is too much to run a second hazard; this monster lived\nin a den under yonder mountain, with a brother of his, more fierce and\ncruel than himself; therefore, if you should go thither, and perish in\nthe attempt, it would be a heart-breaking thing to me and my lady; so\nlet me persuade you to go back with us, and desist from any further\npursuit.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered Jack, \"if there be another, even if there were twenty,\nI would shed the last drop of blood in my body before one of them\nshould escape. When I have finished this task, I will come and pay my\nrespects to you.\"\n\nSo when they had told him where to find them again, he got on his\nhorse and went after the dead giant's brother.\n\nJack had not ridden a mile and a half before he came in sight of the\nmouth of the cavern; and, nigh the entrance of it, he saw the other\ngiant sitting on a huge block of timber, with a knotted iron club\nlying by his side, waiting for his brother. His eyes looked like\nflames of fire, his face was grim and ugly, and his cheeks were like\ntwo flitches of bacon; the bristles of his beard seemed to be thick\nrods of iron wire; and his long locks of hair hung down upon his broad\nshoulders like curling snakes. Jack got down from his horse, and\nturned him into a thicket; then he put on his coat of darkness, and\ndrew a little nearer to behold this figure, and said softly, \"Oh,\nmonster! are you there? It will not be long before I shall take you\nfast by the beard.\"\n\nThe giant all this while could not see him, by reason of his invisible\ncoat; so Jack came quite close to him, and struck a blow at his head\nwith his sword of sharpness; but he missed his aim, and only cut off\nhis nose, which made him roar like loud claps of thunder. He rolled\nhis glaring eyes round on every side, but could not see who had given\nhim the blow; so he took up his iron club, and began to lay about him\nlike one that was mad with pain and fury.\n\n\"Nay,\" said Jack, \"if this be the case, I will kill you at once.\" So\nsaying, he slipped nimbly behind him, and jumping upon the block of\ntimber, as the giant rose from it, he stabbed him in the back; when,\nafter a few howls, he dropped down dead. Jack cut off his head, and\nsent it, with the head of his brother, to King Arthur, by a waggon\nwhich he had hired for that purpose. When Jack had thus killed these\ntwo monsters, he went into their cave in search of their treasure. He\npassed through many turnings and windings, which led him to a room\npaved with freestone; at the end of it was a boiling cauldron, and on\nthe right hand stood a large table, where the giants used to dine. He\nthen came to a window that was secured with iron bars, through which\nhe saw a number of wretched captives, who cried out when they saw\nJack: \"Alas! alas! young man, you are come to be one among us in this\nhorrid den.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said Jack, \"you will not stay here long: but pray tell me\nwhat is the meaning of your being here at all?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said one poor old man, \"I will tell you, sir. We are persons\nthat have been taken by the giants who hold this cave, and are kept\ntill they choose to have a feast; then one of us is to be killed, and\ncooked to please their taste. It is not long since they took three for\nthe same purpose.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Jack, \"I have given them such a dinner, that it will be\nlong enough before they have any more.\"\n\nThe captives were amazed at his words.\n\n\"You may believe me,\" said Jack, \"for I have killed them both with the\nedge of this sword, and have sent their large heads to the court of\nKing Arthur, as marks of my great success.\"\n\nTo show that what he said was true, he unlocked the gate, and set the\ncaptives all free. Then he led them to the great room, placed them\nround the table, and placed before them two quarters of beef, with\nbread and wine; upon which they feasted their fill. When supper was\nover, they searched the giant's coffers, and Jack divided among them\nall the treasures. The next morning they set off to their homes, and\nJack to the knight's house, whom he had left with his lady not long\nbefore.\n\nHe was received with the greatest joy by the thankful knight and his\nlady, who, in honour of Jack's exploits, gave a grand feast, to which\nall the nobles and gentry were invited. When the company were\nassembled, the knight declared to them the great actions of Jack, and\ngave him, as a mark of respect, a fine ring, on which was engraved the\npicture of the giant dragging the knight and the lady by the hair,\nwith this motto round it:--\n\n    \"Behold in dire distress were we,\n      Under a giant's fierce command;\n    But gained our lives and liberty\n      From valiant Jack's victorious hand.\"\n\nAmong the guests then present were five aged gentlemen, who were\nfathers to some of those captives who had been freed by Jack from the\ndungeon of the giants. As soon as they heard that he was the person\nwho had done such wonders, they pressed round him with tears of joy,\nto return him thanks for the happiness he had caused them. After this\nthe bowl went round, and every one drank the health and long life of\nthe gallant hero. Mirth increased, and the hall was filled with peals\nof laughter. But, on a sudden, a herald, pale and breathless, rushed\ninto the midst of the company, and told them that Thundel, a savage\ngiant with two heads, had heard of the death of his two kinsmen, and\nwas come to take his revenge on Jack; and that he was now within a\nmile of the house, the people flying before him like chaff before the\nwind. At this news the very boldest of the guests trembled; but Jack\ndrew his sword, and said, \"Let him come, I have a rod for him also.\nPray, ladies and gentlemen, do me the favour to walk into the garden,\nand you shall soon behold the giant's defeat and death.\"\n\nTo this they all agreed, and heartily wished him success in his\ndangerous attempt.\n\nThe knight's house stood in the middle of a moat, thirty feet deep and\ntwenty wide, over which lay a drawbridge. Jack set men to work, to cut\nthe bridge on both sides, almost to the middle, and then dressed\nhimself in his coat of darkness, and went against the giant with his\nsword of sharpness. As he came close to him, though the giant could\nnot see him for his invisible coat, yet he found some danger was near,\nwhich made him cry out:--\n\n    \"Fa, fe, fi, fo, fum,\n    I smell the blood of an Englishman;\n    Let him be alive, or let him be dead,\n    I'll grind his bones to make me bread.\"\n\n\"Say you so, my friend?\" said Jack; \"you are a monstrous miller,\nindeed!\"\n\n\"Art thou,\" cried the giant, \"the villain that killed my kinsmen? Then\nI will tear thee with my teeth, and grind thy bones to powder.\"\n\n\"You must catch me first,\" said Jack; and throwing off his coat of\ndarkness, and putting on his shoes of swiftness, he began to run, the\ngiant following him like a walking castle, making the earth shake at\nevery step.\n\nJack led him round and round the walls of the house, that the company\nmight see the monster; then, to finish the work, he ran over the\ndrawbridge, the giant going after him with his club: but when he came\nto the middle, where the bridge had been cut on both sides, the great\nweight of his body made it break, and he tumbled into the water, where\nhe rolled about like a large whale. Jack now stood by the side of the\nmoat, and laughed and jeered at him, saying, \"I think you told me you\nwould grind my bones to powder; when will you begin?\"\n\nThe giant foamed at both his horrid mouths with fury, and plunged\nfrom side to side of the moat; but he could not get out to have\nrevenge on his little foe. At last Jack ordered a cart-rope to be\nbrought to him; he then drew it over his two heads, and by the help of\na team of horses, dragged him to the edge of the moat, where he cut\noff his heads: and before he either ate or drank, sent them both to\nthe court of King Arthur. He then went back to the table with the\ncompany, and the rest of the day was spent in mirth and good cheer.\n\nAfter staying with the knight for some time, Jack grew weary of such\nan idle life, and set out again in search of new adventures. He went\nover hills and dales without meeting any, till he came to the foot of\na very high mountain. Here he knocked at the door of a small and\nlonely house, and an old man, with a head as white as snow, let him\nin.\n\n\"Good father,\" said Jack, \"can you lodge a traveller who has lost his\nway?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the hermit, \"I can, if you will accept such fare as my\npoor house affords.\"\n\nJack entered, and the old man set before him some bread and fruit for\nhis supper. When Jack had eaten as much as he chose, the hermit said:\n\"My son, I know you are the famous conqueror of giants; now, at the\ntop of this mountain is an enchanted castle, kept by a giant named\nGalligantus, who, by the help of a vile magician, gets many knights\ninto his castle, where he changes them into the shape of beasts. Above\nall, I lament the hard fate of a duke's daughter, whom they seized as\nshe was walking in her father's garden, and brought hither through the\nair in a chariot drawn by two fiery dragons, and turned her into the\nshape of a deer. Many knights have tried to destroy the enchantment\nand deliver her, yet none have been able to do it, by reason of two\nfiery griffins, who guard the gate of the castle, and destroy all who\ncome nigh; but as you, my son, have an invisible coat, you may pass by\nthem without being seen; and on the gates of the castle you will find\nengraved by what means the enchantment may be broken.\"\n\nJack promised that in the morning, at the risk of his life, he would\nbreak the enchantment; and after a sound sleep, he arose early, put on\nhis invisible coat, and got ready for the attempt. When he had climbed\nto the top of the mountain, he saw the two fiery griffins; but he\npassed between them without the least fear of danger for they could\nnot see him because of his invisible coat. On the castle-gate he found\na golden trumpet, under which were written these lines:--\n\n    \"Whoever can this trumpet blow,\n    Shall cause the giant's overthrow.\"\n\nAs soon as Jack had read this, he seized the trumpet, and blew a\nshrill blast, which made the gates fly open, and the very castle\nitself tremble. The giant and the conjuror now knew that their wicked\ncourse was at an end, and they stood biting their thumbs and shaking\nwith fear. Jack with his sword of sharpness, soon killed the giant,\nand the magician was then carried away by a whirlwind. All the\nknights and beautiful ladies, who had been changed into birds and\nbeasts, returned to their proper shapes. The castle vanished away like\nsmoke, and the head of the giant Galligantus was sent to King Arthur.\nThe knights and ladies rested that night at the old man's hermitage,\nand the next day they set out for the court. Jack then went up to the\nking, and gave his majesty an account of all his fierce battles.\nJack's fame had spread through the whole country; and at the king's\ndesire, the duke gave him his daughter in marriage, to the joy of all\nthe kingdom. After this, the king gave him a large estate, on which he\nand his lady lived the rest of their days in joy and content.\n\n\n\n\nTOM THUMB.\n\n\nIn the days of King Arthur, Merlin, the most learned enchanter of his\ntime, was on a journey; and being very weary, stopped one day at the\ncottage of an honest ploughman to ask for refreshment. The ploughman's\nwife, with great civility, immediately brought him some milk in a\nwooden bowl, and some brown bread on a wooden platter. Merlin could\nnot help observing, that although everything within the cottage was\nparticularly neat and clean, and in good order, the ploughman and his\nwife had the most sorrowful air imaginable: so he questioned them on\nthe cause of their melancholy, and learned that they were very\nmiserable because they had no children. The poor woman declared, with\ntears in her eyes, that she should be the happiest creature in the\nworld, if she had a son, although he were no bigger than his father's\nthumb. Merlin was much amused with the notion of a boy no bigger than\na man's thumb; and as soon as he returned home, he sent for the queen\nof the fairies (with whom he was very intimate), and related to her\nthe desire of the ploughman and his wife to have a son the size of his\nfather's thumb. She liked the plan exceedingly, and declared their\nwish should be speedily granted. Accordingly, the ploughman's wife\nhad a son, who in a few minutes grew as tall as his father's thumb.\nThe queen of the fairies came in at the window as the mother was\nsitting up in bed admiring the child. Her majesty kissed the infant,\nand, giving it the name of Tom Thumb, immediately summoned several\nfairies from Fairyland, to clothe her new little favourite:--\n\n    \"An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown,\n    His shirt it was by spiders spun:\n    With doublet wove of thistledown,\n    His trousers up with points were done;\n    His stockings, of apple-rind, they tie\n    With eye-lash pluck'd from his mother's eye:\n    His shoes were made of a mouse's skin,\n    Nicely tann'd with hair within.\"\n\nTom was never any bigger than his father's thumb, which was not a\nlarge thumb neither; but as he grew older, he became very cunning, for\nwhich his mother did not sufficiently correct him: and by this ill\nquality he was often brought into difficulties. For instance, when he\nhad learned to play with other boys for cherry-stones, and had lost\nall his own, he used to creep into the boys' bags, fill his pockets,\nand come out again to play. But one day as he was getting out of a bag\nof cherry-stones, the boy to whom it belonged chanced to see him.\n\n\"Ah, ha, my little Tom Thumb!\" said he, \"have I caught you at your bad\ntricks at last? Now I will reward you for thieving.\" Then drawing the\nstring tight round his neck, and shaking the bag, the cherry-stones\nbruised Tom's legs, thighs, and body sadly; which made him beg to be\nlet out, and promise never to be guilty of such things any more.\n\nShortly afterwards Tom's mother was making a batter-pudding, and that\nhe might see how she mixed it, he climbed on the edge of the bowl; but\nhis foot happening to slip, he fell over head and ears into the\nbatter, and his mother, not observing him, stirred him into the\npudding, and popped him into the pot to boil. The hot water made Tom\nkick and struggle; and his mother, seeing the pudding jump up and down\nin such a furious manner, thought it was bewitched; and a tinker\ncoming by just at the time, she quickly gave him the pudding; he put\nit into his budget, and walked on.\n\nAs soon as Tom could get the batter out of his mouth, he began to cry\naloud, which so frightened the poor tinker, that he flung the pudding\nover the hedge, and ran away from it as fast as he could. The pudding\nbeing broken to pieces by the fall, Tom was released, and walked home\nto his mother, who gave him a kiss and put him to bed.\n\nTom Thumb's mother once took him with her when she went to milk the\ncow; and it being a very windy day, she tied him with a needleful of\nthread to a thistle, that he might not be blown away. The cow, liking\nhis oak-leaf hat, took him and the thistle up at one mouthful. While\nthe cow chewed the thistle, Tom, terrified at her great teeth, which\nseemed ready to crush him to pieces, roared, \"Mother, mother!\" as loud\nas he could bawl.\n\n\"Where are you, Tommy, my dear Tommy?' said the mother.\n\n\"Here, mother, here in the red cow's mouth.\"\n\nThe mother began to cry and wring her hands; but the cow, surprised at\nsuch odd noises in her throat, opened her mouth and let him drop out.\nHis mother clapped him into her apron, and ran home with him. Tom's\nfather made him a whip of a barley straw to drive the cattle with, and\nbeing one day in the field he slipped into a deep furrow. A raven\nflying over picked him up with a grain of corn, and flew with him to\nthe top of a giant's castle by the sea-side, where he left him; and\nold Grumbo, the giant, coming soon after to walk upon his terrace,\nswallowed Tom like a pill, clothes and all. Tom presently made the\ngiant very uncomfortable, and he threw him up into the sea. A great\nfish then swallowed him. This fish was soon after caught, and sent as\na present to King Arthur. When it was cut open, everybody was\ndelighted with little Tom Thumb. The king made him his dwarf; he was\nthe favourite of the whole court; and, by his merry pranks, often\namused the queen and the knights of the Round Table. The king, when he\nrode on horseback, frequently took Tom in his hand; and if a shower of\nrain came on, he used to creep into the king's waist-coat-pocket, and\nsleep till the rain was over. The king also sometimes questioned Tom\nconcerning his parents; and when Tom informed his majesty they were\nvery poor people, the king led him into his treasury, and told him he\nshould pay his friends a visit, and take with him as much money as he\ncould carry. Tom procured a little purse, and putting a threepenny\npiece into it, with much labour and difficulty got it upon his back;\nand after travelling two days and nights, arrived at his father's\nhouse. His mother met him at the door, almost tired to death, having\nin forty-eight hours travelled almost half a mile with a huge silver\nthreepence upon his back. Both his parents were glad to see him,\nespecially when he had brought such an amazing sum of money with him.\nThey placed him in a walnut-shell by the fireside, and feasted him for\nthree days upon a hazel-nut, which made him sick, for a whole nut\nusually served him for a month. Tom got well, but could not travel\nbecause it had rained: therefore his mother took him in her hand, and\nwith one puff blew him into King Arthur's court; where Tom entertained\nthe king, queen, and nobility at tilts and tournaments, at which he\nexerted himself so much that he brought on a fit of sickness, and his\nlife was despaired of. At this juncture the queen of the fairies came\nin a chariot, drawn by flying mice, placed Tom by her side, and drove\nthrough the air, without stopping till they arrived at her palace;\nwhen, after restoring him to health and permitting him to enjoy all\nthe gay diversions of Fairyland, she commanded a fair wind, and,\nplacing Tom before it, blew him straight to the court of King Arthur.\nBut just as Tom should have alighted in the courtyard of the palace,\nthe cook happened to pass along with the king's great bowl of\nfurmenty (King Arthur loved furmenty), and poor Tom Thumb fell plump\ninto the middle of it, and splashed the hot furmenty into the cook's\neyes. Down went the bowl.\n\n\"Oh dear! oh dear!\" cried Tom.\n\n\"Murder! murder!\" bellowed the cook; and away poured the king's nice\nfurmenty into the kennel.\n\nThe cook was a red-faced, cross fellow, and swore to the king that Tom\nhad done it out of mere mischief; so he was taken up, tried, and\nsentenced to be beheaded. Tom hearing this dreadful sentence, and\nseeing a miller stand by with his mouth wide open, he took a good\nspring, and jumped down the miller's throat, unperceived by all, even\nby the miller himself.\n\nTom being lost, the court broke up, and away went the miller to his\nmill. But Tom did not leave him long at rest: he began to roll and\ntumble about, so that the miller thought himself bewitched, and sent\nfor a doctor. When the doctor came, Tom began to dance and sing; the\ndoctor was as much frightened as the miller, and sent in great haste\nfor five more doctors and twenty learned men. While all these were\ndebating upon the affair, the miller (for they were very tedious)\nhappened to yawn, and Tom, taking the opportunity, made another jump,\nand alighted on his feet in the middle of the table. The miller,\nprovoked to be thus tormented by such a little creature, fell into a\ngreat passion, caught hold of Tom, and threw him out of the window\ninto the river. A large salmon swimming by snapped him up in a minute.\nThe salmon was soon caught and sold in the market to a steward of a\nlord. The lord, thinking it an uncommon fine fish, made a present of\nit to the king, who ordered it to be dressed immediately. When the\ncook cut open the salmon, he found poor Tom, and ran with him directly\nto the king; but the king, being busy with state affairs, desired that\nhe might be brought another day. The cook resolving to keep him safely\nthis time, as he had so lately given him the slip, clapped him into a\nmouse-trap, and left him to amuse himself by peeping through the wires\nfor a whole week; when the king sent for him, he forgave him for\nthrowing down the furmenty, ordered him new clothes, and knighted\nhim:--\n\n    \"His shirt was made of butterflies' wings,\n    His boots were made of chicken skins;\n    His coat and breeches were made with pride:\n    A tailor's needle hung by his side;\n    A mouse for a horse he used to ride.\"\n\nThus dressed and mounted, he rode a-hunting with the king and\nnobility, who all laughed heartily at Tom and his fine prancing steed.\nAs they rode by a farmhouse one day, a cat jumped from behind the\ndoor, seized the mouse and little Tom, and began to devour the mouse;\nhowever, Tom boldly drew his sword and attacked the cat, who then let\nhim fall. The king and his nobles, seeing Tom falling, went to his\nassistance, and one of the lords caught him in his hat; but poor Tom\nwas sadly scratched, and his clothes were torn by the claws of the\ncat. In this condition he was carried home, when a bed of down was\nmade for him in a little ivory cabinet. The queen of the fairies came\nand took him again to Fairyland, where she kept him for some years;\nand then, dressing him in bright green, sent him flying once more\nthrough the air to the earth, in the days of King Thunstone. The\npeople flocked far and near to look at him; and the king, before whom\nhe was carried, asked him who he was, whence he came, and where he\nlived? Tom answered:--\n\n    \"My name Is Tom Thumb,\n    From the Fairies I come;\n    When King Arthur shone,\n    This court was my home.\n    In me he delighted,\n    By him I was knighted;\n    Did you never hear of\n    Sir Thomas Thumb?\"\n\nThe king was so charmed with this address, that he ordered a little\nchair to be made, in order that Tom might sit on his table, and also a\npalace of gold a span high, with a door an inch wide, for little Tom\nto live in. He also gave him a coach drawn by six small mice, This\nmade the queen angry, because she had not a new coach too: therefore,\nresolving to ruin Tom, she complained to the king that he had behaved\nvery insolently to her. The king sent for him in a rage. Tom, to\nescape his fury, crept into an empty snail-shell, and there lay till\nhe was almost starved; when, peeping out of the hole, he saw a fine\nbutterfly settle on the ground: he now ventured out, and getting\nastride, the butterfly took wing, and mounted into the air with\nlittle Tom on his back. Away he flew from field to field, from tree to\ntree, till at last he flew to the king's court. The king, queen, and\nnobles, all strove to catch the butterfly, but could not. At length\npoor Tom, having neither bridle nor saddle, slipped from his seat, and\nfell into a watering-pot, where he was found almost drowned. The queen\nvowed he should be guillotined; but while the guillotine was getting\nready, he was secured once more in a mouse-trap; when the cat, seeing\nsomething stir, and supposing it to be a mouse, patted the trap about\ntill she broke it, and set Tom at liberty. Soon afterwards a spider,\ntaking him for a fly, made at him. Tom drew his sword and fought\nvaliantly, but the spider's poisonous breath overcame him:--\n\n    \"He fell dead on the ground where late he had stood,\n    And the spider suck'd up the last drop of his blood.\"\n\nKing Thunstone and his whole court went into mourning for little Tom\nThumb. They buried him under a rosebush, and raised a nice white\nmarble monument over his grave, with the following epitaph:--\n\n    \"Here lies Tom Thumb, King Arthur's knight,\n    Who died by a spider's cruel bite.\n    He was well known in Arthur's court,\n    Where he afforded gallant sport;\n    He rode at tilt and tournament,\n    And on a mouse a-hunting went;\n    Alive he fill'd the court with mirth,\n    His death to sorrow soon gave birth.\n    Wipe, wipe your eyes, and shake your head,\n    And cry, 'Alas! Tom Thumb is dead.'\"\n\n\n\n\nRUMPELSTILZCHEN.\n\n\nThere was once a miller who was very poor, but he had a beautiful\ndaughter. Now, it happened that he came to speak to the king, and, to\ngive himself importance, he said to him, \"I have a daughter who can\nspin straw into gold.\"\n\nThe king said to the miller, \"That is a talent that pleases me well;\nif she be as skilful as you say, bring her to-morrow to the palace,\nand I will put her to the proof.\"\n\nWhen the maiden was brought to him, he led her to a room full of\nstraw, gave her a wheel and spindle, and said, \"Now set to work, and\nif by the morrow this straw be not spun into gold, you shall die.\" He\nlocked the door, and left the maiden alone.\n\nThe poor girl sat down disconsolate, and could not for her life think\nwhat she was to do; for she knew not--how could she?--the way to spin\nstraw into gold; and her distress increased so much that at last she\nbegan to weep. All at once the door opened, and a little man entered,\nand said, \"Good evening, my pretty miller's daughter why are you\nweeping so bitterly?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" answered the maiden, \"I must spin straw into gold, and know not\nhow to do it.\"\n\nThe little man said, \"What will you give me if I do it for you?\"\n\n\"My neckerchief,\" said the maiden.\n\nHe took the kerchief, sat down before the wheel, and grind, grind,\ngrind--three times did he grind--and the spindle was full: then he put\nanother thread on, and grind, grind, grind, the second was full; so he\nspun on till morning; when all the straw was spun, and all the\nspindles were full of gold.\n\nThe king came at sunrise, and was greatly astonished and overjoyed at\nthe sight; but it only made his heart the more greedy of gold. He put\nthe miller's daughter into another much larger room, full of straw,\nand ordered her to spin it all in one night, if life were dear to her.\nThe poor helpless maiden began to weep, when once more the door flew\nopen, the little man appeared, and said, \"What will you give me if I\nspin this straw into gold?\"\n\n\"My ring from my finger,\" answered the maiden.\n\nThe little man took the ring, began to turn the wheel, and, by the\nmorning, all the straw was spun into shining gold.\n\nThe king was highly delighted when he saw it, but was not yet\nsatisfied with the quantity of gold; so he put the damsel into a still\nlarger room, full of straw, and said, \"Spin this during the night; and\nif you do it, you shall be my wife.\" \"For,\" he thought, \"if she's only\na miller's daughter I shall never find a richer wife in the whole\nworld.\"\n\nAs soon as the damsel was alone, the little man came the third time,\nand said, \"What will you give me if I again spin all this straw for\nyou?\"\n\n\"I have nothing more to give you,\" answered the girl.\n\n\"Then promise, if you become queen, to give me your first child.\"\n\n\"Who knows how that may be, or how things may turn out between now and\nthen?\" thought the girl, but in her perplexity she could not help\nherself: so she promised the little man what he desired, and he spun\nall the straw into gold.\n\nWhen the king came in the morning, and saw that his orders had been\nobeyed, he married the maiden, and the beautiful miller's daughter\nbecame a queen. After a year had passed she brought a lovely baby into\nthe world, but quite forgot the little man, till he walked suddenly\ninto her chamber, and said, \"Give me what you promised me.\" The queen\nwas frightened, and offered the dwarf all the riches of the kingdom if\nhe would only leave her her child; but he answered, \"No; something\nliving is dearer to me than all the treasures of the world.\"\n\nThen the queen began to grieve and to weep so bitterly, that the\nlittle man took pity upon her and said, \"I will give you three days;\nif in that time you can find out my name, you shall keep the child.\"\n\nAll night long the queen thought over every name she had ever heard,\nand sent a messenger through the kingdom, to inquire what names were\nusually given to people in that country. When, next day, the little\nman came again, she began with Caspar, Melchoir, Balthazar, and\nrepeated, each after each, all the names she knew or had heard of; but\nat each one the little man said, \"That is not my name.\"\n\nThe second day she again sent round about in all directions, to ask\nhow the people were called, and repeated to the little man the\nstrangest names she could hear of or imagine: to each he answered\nalways, \"That is not my name.\"\n\nThe third day the messenger returned and said, \"I have not been able\nto find a single new name; but as I came over a high mountain by a\nwood, where the fox and the hare bid each other good-night, I saw a\nlittle house, and before the house was burning a little fire, and\nround the fire danced a very funny little man, who hopped upon one\nleg, and cried out:--\n\n    \"To-day I brew, to-morrow I bake,\n    Next day the queen's child I shall take;\n    How glad I am that nobody knows\n    My name is Rumpelstilzchen!\"\n\nYou may guess how joyful the queen was at hearing this; and when, soon\nafter, the little man entered and said, \"Queen, what is my name?\" she\nasked him mischievously, \"Is your name Kunz?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Is your name Carl?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Are you not sometimes called Rumpelstilzchen?\"\n\n\"A witch has told you that--a witch has told you!\" shrieked the poor\nlittle man, and stamped so furiously with his right foot that it sunk\ninto the earth up to the hip; then he seized his left foot with both\nhands with such violence, that he tore himself right in two.\n\n\n\n\nFORTUNATUS.\n\n\nIn the city of Famagosta, in the island of Cyprus, there lived a very\nrich gentleman. His name was Theodorus: he married a lady who was the\ngreatest beauty in Cyprus, and she was as rich as himself; she was\ncalled Graciana. They both had every pleasure that wealth could buy,\nand lived in the first style. Besides all this, the lady Graciana\nbrought her husband a fine little son, who was named Fortunatus; so\none would think nothing could have kept Theodorus from being the most\nhappy person in the world. But this was not long the case; for when he\nhad enjoyed all these pleasures for some time, he grew tired of them,\nand began to keep company with young noblemen of the court, with whom\nhe sat up all night drinking and playing cards, so that in a few years\nhe spent all his fortune. He was now very sorry for what he had done,\nbut it was too late; and there was nothing he could do, but to work at\nsome trade to support his wife and child. For all this the lady\nGraciana never found fault with him, but still loved her husband the\nsame as before; saying, \"Dear Theodorus, to be sure I do not know how\nto work at any trade; but if I can not help you in earning money, I\nwill help you to save it.\" So Theodorus set to work; and though the\nlady Graciana had always been used only to ring her bell for\neverything that she wanted, she now scoured the kettles and washed the\nclothes with her own hands.\n\nThey went on in this manner till Fortunatus was sixteen years of age.\nWhen that time came, one day, as they were all sitting at dinner,\nTheodorus fixed his eyes on his son, and sighed deeply.\n\n\"What is the matter with you, father?\" said Fortunatus.\n\n\"Ah! my child,\" said Theodorus, \"I have reason enough to be sorry,\nwhen I think of the noble fortune which I have spent, and that my\nfolly will force you to labour for your living.\"\n\n\"Father,\" replied Fortunatus, \"do not grieve about it. I have often\nthought that it was time I should do something for myself; and though\nI have not been brought up to any trade, yet I hope I can contrive to\nsupport myself somehow.\"\n\nWhen Fortunatus had done his dinner, he took his hat and walked to the\nsea-side, thinking of what he could do, so as to be no longer a burden\nto his parents. Just as he reached the sea-shore, the Earl of\nFlanders, who had been to Jerusalem, was embarking on board his ship\nwith all his servants, to set sail for Flanders. Fortunatus now\nthought he would offer himself to be the Earl's page. When the Earl\nsaw that he was a smart-looking lad, and heard the quick replies which\nhe made to his questions, he took him into his service; so at once\nthey all went on board. On their way the ship stopped a short time at\nthe port of Venice, where Fortunatus saw many strange things, which\nmade him wish still more to travel, and taught him much that he did\nnot know before.\n\nSoon after this they came to Flanders; and they had not been long on\nshore, before the Earl, his master, was married to the daughter of the\nDuke of Cleves. The wedding was kept with all sorts of public\nfeasting, and games on horseback, called tilts, which lasted many\ndays; and, among the rest, the Earl's lady gave two jewels as prizes\nto be played for, each of them the value of a hundred crowns. One of\nthem was won by Fortunatus, and the other by Timothy, a servant of the\nDuke of Burgundy; who afterwards ran another tilt with Fortunatus, so\nthat the winner was to have both the jewels. So they tilted, and, at\nthe fourth course, Fortunatus hoisted Timothy a full spear's length\nfrom his horse, and thus won both the jewels, which pleased the Earl\nand Countess so much that they praised Fortunatus, and thought better\nof him than ever. At this time, also, Fortunatus had many rich\npresents given him by the lords and ladies of the court. But the high\nfavour shown him made his fellow-servants jealous, and one, named\nRobert, who had always pretended a great friendship for Fortunatus,\nmade him believe that for all his seeming kindness, the Earl, in\nsecret, envied him his great skill in tilting. Robert said, too, that\nhe had heard the Earl give private orders to one of his servants to\nfind some way of killing him next day, while they should all be out\nhunting.\n\nFortunatus thanked the wicked Robert for what he thought a great\nkindness; and the next day, at daybreak, he took the swiftest horse in\nthe Earl's stables, and left the country. When the Earl heard that\nFortunatus had gone away in a hurry, he was much surprised, and asked\nall his servants what they knew about the matter, but they all denied\nknowing anything of it, or why he had left them. The Earl then said,\n\"Fortunatus was a lad for whom I had a great esteem; I am sure some of\nyou must have given him an affront; if I discover it, I shall not fail\nto punish the guilty person.\" In the meantime, Fortunatus, when he\nfound himself out of the Earl's country, stopped at an inn to refresh\nhimself, and began to reckon how much he had about him. He took out\nall his fine clothes and jewels, and could not help putting them on.\nHe then looked at himself in the glass, and thought that, to be sure,\nhe was quite a fine smart fellow. Next he took out his purse, and\ncounted the money that had been given him by the lords and ladies of\nthe Earl's court. He found that in all he had five hundred crowns; so\nhe bought a horse, and took care to send back the one that he had\ntaken from the Earl's stable.\n\nHe then set off for Calais, crossed the Channel, landed safely at\nDover, and went on to London, where he soon made his way into genteel\ncompany, and had once the honour to dance with the daughter of a Duke\nat the Lord Mayor's ball. This sort of life, as anybody may well\nthink, soon made away with his little stock of money. When Fortunatus\nfound that he had not a penny left, he began to think of going back\nagain to France, and soon after went on board a ship bound to Picardy.\nHe landed in that country, but finding no employment he set off for\nBrittany, when he lost his way in crossing a wood, and was forced to\nstay in it all night. The next morning he was little better off, for\nhe could find no path. So he walked about from one part of the wood to\nanother, till at last, on the evening of the second day, he saw a\nspring, at which he drank very heartily; but still he had nothing to\neat, and was ready to die with hunger. When night came on, he heard\nthe growling of wild beasts, so he climbed up a high tree for safety,\nand he had hardly seated himself in it, before a lion walked fiercely\nup to the spring to drink. This made him very much afraid. When the\nlion had gone away, a bear came to drink also; and, as the moon shone\nvery bright, the beast looked up, and saw Fortunatus, and straightway\nbegan to climb up the tree to get at him.\n\nFortunatus drew his sword, and sat quiet till the bear was come within\narm's length; and then he ran him through the body. This drove the\nbear so very savage, that he made a great spring to get at him; but\nthe bough broke, and down he fell, and lay sprawling and howling on\nthe ground. Fortunatus now looked around on all sides; and as he saw\nno more wild beasts near, he thought this would be a good time to get\nrid of the bear at once; so down he came, and killed him at a single\nblow. Being almost starved for want of food, the poor youth stooped\ndown, and was going to suck the blood of the bear; but looking round\nonce more, to see if any wild beasts were coming, he on a sudden\nbeheld a beautiful lady standing by his side, with a bandage over her\neyes, leaning upon a wheel, and looking as if she were going to speak,\nwhich she soon did, in these words: \"Know, young man, that my name is\nFortune; I have the power to bestow wisdom, strength, riches, health,\nbeauty, and long life; one of these I am willing to grant you--choose\nfor yourself which it shall be.\"\n\nFortunatus was not a moment before he answered: \"Good lady, I wish to\nhave riches in such plenty that I may never again know what it is to\nbe so hungry as I now find myself.\" The lady then gave him a purse,\nand told him that in all the countries where he might happen to be, he\nneed only put his hand into the purse as often as he pleased, and he\nwould be sure to find in it ten pieces of gold; that the purse should\nnever fail of yielding the same sum as long as it was kept by him and\nhis children; but that when he and his children should be dead, then\nthe purse would lose its power.\n\nFortunatus now did not know what to do with himself for joy, and began\nto thank the lady very much; but she told him that he had better think\nof making his way out of the wood. She then directed him which path to\ntake, and bade him farewell. He walked by the light of the moon, as\nfast as his weakness and fatigue would let him, till he came near an\ninn. But before he went into it, he thought it would be best to see\nwhether the Lady Fortune had been as good as her word; so he put his\nhand into his purse, and to his great joy he counted ten pieces of\ngold. Having nothing to fear, Fortunatus walked boldly up to the inn,\nand called for the best supper they could get ready in a minute;\n\"For,\" said he, \"I must wait till to-morrow before I am very nice. I\nam so hungry now, that almost anything will do.\" Fortunatus very soon\nate quite enough, and then called for every sort of wine in the house,\nand drank his fill. After supper, he began to think what sort of life\nhe should lead; \"For,\" said he to himself, \"I shall now have money\nenough for everything I can desire.\" He slept that night in the very\nbest bed in the house, and the next day he ordered the finest victuals\nof all kinds. When he rang his bell, all the waiters tried who should\nrun the fastest, to ask him what he pleased to want; and the landlord\nhimself, hearing what a noble guest was come to his house, took care\nto be standing at the door to bow to him when he should be passing\nout.\n\nFortunatus asked the landlord whether any fine horses could be got\nnear at hand; also, if he knew of some smart-looking, clever\nmen-servants who wanted places. By chance the landlord was able to\nprovide him with both. As he had now got everything he wanted, he set\nout on the finest horse that was ever seen, with two servants, for the\nnearest town. There he bought some grand suits of clothes, put his two\nservants into liveries laced with gold, and they went on to Paris.\nHere he took the best house that was to be had, and lived in great\npomp. He invited the nobility, and gave grand balls to all the most\nbeautiful ladies of the court. He went to all public places of\namusement, and the first lords in the country invited him to their\nhouses. He had lived in this manner for about a year, when he began to\nthink of going to Famagosta to visit his parents, whom he had left\nvery poor. \"But,\" thought Fortunatus, \"as I am young and have not seen\nmuch of the world, I should like to meet with some person of more\nknowledge than I have, who would make my journey both useful and\npleasing to me.\" Soon after this he met with an old gentleman, called\nLoch-Fitty, who was a native of Scotland, and had left a wife and ten\nchildren a great many years ago, in hopes to better his fortune; but\nnow, owing to many accidents, was poorer than ever, and had not money\nenough to take him back to his family.\n\nWhen Loch-Fitty found how much Fortunatus wished to obtain knowledge,\nhe told him many of the strange adventures he had met with, and gave\nhim an account of all the countries he had been in, as well as of the\ncustoms, dress, and manners of the people. Fortunatus thought to\nhimself, \"This is the very man I stand in need of;\" so at once he made\nhim a good offer, which the old gentleman agreed to, but made the\nbargain that he might first go and visit his family. Fortunatus told\nhim that he should. \"And,\" said he, \"as I am a little tired of being\nalways in the midst of such noisy pleasures as we find at Paris, I\nwill, with your leave, go with you to Scotland, and see your wife and\nchildren.\" They get out the very next day, and came safe to the house\nof Loch-Fitty; and in all the journey, Fortunatus did not once wish to\nchange his kind companion for all the pleasures and grandeur he had\nleft behind. Loch-Fitty kissed his wife and children, five of whom\nwere daughters, and the most beautiful creatures that were ever\nbeheld. When they were seated, his wife said to him, \"Ah! dear Lord\nLoch-Fitty, how happy I am to see you once again! Now, I hope we shall\nenjoy each other's company for the rest of our lives. What though we\nare poor! We will be content if you will but promise not to think of\nleaving us again to get riches, only because we have a noble title.\"\n\nFortunatus heard this with great surprise. \"What!\" said he, \"are you a\nlord? Then you shall be a rich lord too. And that you may not think I\nlay you under any burden in the fortune I shall give you, I will put\nit in your power to make me your debtor instead. Give me your youngest\ndaughter, Cassandra, for a wife, and accompany us as far as Famagosta,\nand take all your family with you, that you may have pleasant company\non your way back, when you have rested in that place from your\nfatigue.\"\n\nLord Loch-Fitty shed some tears of joy to think he should at last see\nhis family again raised to all the honours which it had once enjoyed.\nHe gladly agreed to the marriage of Fortunatus with his daughter\nCassandra, and then told him the reasons that had forced him to drop\nhis title and live poor at Paris. When Lord Loch-Fitty had ended his\nstory, they agreed that the very next morning the Lady Cassandra\nshould be asked to accept the hand of Fortunatus; and that, if she\nshould consent, they would set sail in a few days for Famagosta. The\nnext morning the offer was made to her, as had been agreed on, and\nFortunatus had the pleasure of hearing from the lips of the beautiful\nCassandra, that the very first time she cast her eyes on him she\nthought him the most handsome gentleman in the world.\n\nEverything was soon ready for them to set out on the journey.\nFortunatus, Lord Loch-Fitty, his lady, and their ten children, then\nset sail in a large ship: they had a good voyage, and landed safe at\nthe port of Famagosta. There, however, Fortunatus found, with great\ngrief and self-reproach, that his father and mother were both dead.\nHowever, as he was an easy-tempered gentleman, and had his betrothed\nCassandra and her whole family to reconcile him to his grief, it did\nnot last very long; the wedding took place almost immediately; so they\nlived all together in Famagosta, and in very great style. By the end\nof the first year, the Lady Cassandra had a little son, who was\nchristened Ampedo; and the next year another, who was christened\nAndolucia. For twelve years Fortunatus lived a very happy life with\nhis wife and children, and his wife's kindred; and as each of her\nsisters had a fortune given her from the purse of Fortunatus, they\nsoon married very well. But by this time he began to long to travel\nagain; and he thought, as he was now so much older and wiser than when\nhe was at Paris, he might go by himself, for Lord Loch-Fitty was at\nthis time too old to bear fatigue. After he had, with great trouble,\ngot the consent of the Lady Cassandra, and made her a promise to stay\naway only two years, he made all things ready for his journey; and\ntaking his lady into one of his private rooms, he showed her three\nchests of gold. He told her to keep one of these for herself, and take\ncharge of the other two for their sons, in case any evil should happen\nto him. He then led her back to the room where the whole family were\nsitting, embraced them all tenderly one by one, and set sail with a\nfair wind for Alexandria.\n\nWhen Fortunatus came to this place, he was told it was the custom to\nmake a handsome present to the sultan; so he sent him a piece of plate\nthat cost five thousand pounds. The sultan was so much pleased with\nthis, that he ordered a hundred casks of spices to be given to\nFortunatus in return. Fortunatus sent these straight to the Lady\nCassandra, with the most tender letters, by the same ship that brought\nhim, which was then going back to Famagosta. Having stated that he\nwished to travel through his country by land, he obtained from the\nsultan such passports and letters as he might stand in need of, to the\nother princes in those parts. He then bought a camel, hired proper\nservants, and set off on his travels. He went through Turkey, Persia,\nand from thence to Carthage; he next went into the country of Prester\nJohn, who rides upon a white elephant, and has kings to wait on him.\nFortunatus made him some rich presents, and went on to Calcutta; and,\nin coming back, he took Jerusalem in the way, and so came again to\nAlexandria, where he had the good fortune to find the same ship that\nhad brought him, and to learn from the captain that his wife and\nfamily were all in perfect health. The first thing he did was to pay a\nvisit to his old friend the sultan, to whom he again made a handsome\npresent, and was invited to dine at his palace. After dinner, the\nsultan said: \"It must be vastly amusing, Fortunatus, to hear an\naccount of all the places you have seen; pray favour me with a history\nof your travels.\" Fortunatus did as he was desired, and pleased the\nsultan very much by telling him the many odd adventures he had met\nwith; and, above all, the manner of his first becoming known to the\nLord Loch-Fitty, and the desire of that lord to maintain the honours\nof his family. When he had ended, the sultan said he was greatly\npleased with what he had heard, but that he possessed a more curious\nthing than any Fortunatus had told him of. He then led him into a room\nalmost filled with jewels, opened a large closet, and took out a cap,\nwhich he said was of greater value than all the rest. Fortunatus\nthought the sultan was joking, and told him he had seen many a better\ncap than that. \"Ah!\" said the sultan, \"that is because you do not know\nits value. Whoever puts this cap on his head, and wishes to be in any\npart of the world, will find himself there in a moment.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" said Fortunatus; \"and pray, is the man living who made it?\"\n\n\"I know nothing about that,\" said the sultan.\n\n\"One would hardly believe it,\" said Fortunatus. \"Pray, sir, is it very\nheavy?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" replied the sultan; \"you may feel it.\"\n\nFortunatus took up the cap, put it on his head, and could not help\nwishing himself on board the ship that was going back to Famagosta. In\nless than a moment he was carried on board of her, just as she was\nready to sail; and there being a brisk gale, they were out of sight in\nhalf an hour, before the sultan had even time to repent of his folly\nfor letting Fortunatus try the cap on his head. The ship came safe to\nFamagosta, after a happy passage, and Fortunatus found his wife and\nchildren well; but Lord Loch-Fitty and his lady had died of old age,\nand were buried in the same grave.\n\nFortunatus now began to take great pleasure in teaching his two boys\nall sorts of useful learning, and also such manly sports as wrestling\nand tilting. Now and then he thought about the curious cap which had\nbrought him home, and then would wish he could just take a peep at\nwhat was passing in other countries; which wish was always fulfilled:\nbut he never stayed there more than an hour or two, so that the Lady\nCassandra did not miss him, and was no longer made uneasy by his love\nof travelling.\n\nAt last, Fortunatus began to grow old, and the Lady Cassandra fell\nsick and died. The loss of her caused him so much grief, that soon\nafter he fell sick too. As he thought he had not long to live, he\ncalled his two sons to his bedside, and told them the secrets of the\npurse and the cap, which he begged they would not, on any account,\nmake known to others. \"Follow my example,\" said he: \"I have had the\npurse these forty years, and no living person knew from what source I\nobtained my riches.\" He then told them to make use of the purse\nbetween them, and to live together in friendship; and embracing them,\ndied soon after. Fortunatus was buried with great pomp by the side of\nLady Cassandra, in his own chapel, and was for a long time mourned by\nthe people of Famagosta.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BREMEN TOWN MUSICIANS.\n\n\nThere was a man who owned a donkey, which had carried his sacks to the\nmill industriously for many years, but whose strength had come to an\nend, so that the poor beast grew more and more unfit for work. The\nmaster determined to stop his food, but the donkey, discovering that\nthere was no good intended to him, ran away and took the road to\nBremen: \"There,\" thought he, \"I can turn Town Musician.\"\n\nWhen he had gone a little way, he found a hound lying on the road and\npanting, like one who was tired with running. \"Hollo! what are you\npanting so for, worthy Seize 'em?\" asked the donkey.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the dog, \"just because I am old, and get weaker every day,\nand cannot go out hunting, my master wanted to kill me, so I have\ntaken leave of him; but how shall I gain my living now?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what,\" said the donkey, \"I am going to Bremen to be\nTown Musician; come with me and take to music too. I will play the\nlute, and you shall beat the drum.\"\n\nThe dog liked the idea, and they travelled on. It was not long before\nthey saw a cat sitting by the road, making a face like three rainy\ndays.\n\n\"Now then, what has gone wrong with you old Whiskers?\" said the\ndonkey.\n\n\"Who can be merry when his neck is in danger?\" answered the cat.\n\"Because I am advanced in years, and my teeth are blunt, and I like\nsitting before the fire and purring better than chasing the mice\nabout, my mistress wanted to drown me. I have managed to escape, but\ngood advice is scarce; tell me where I shall go to?\"\n\n\"Come with us two to Bremen; you understand serenading; you also can\nbecome a Town Musician.\"\n\nThe cat thought it a capital idea, and went with them. Soon after the\nthree runaways came to a farmyard, and there sat a cock on the gate,\ncrowing with might and main.\n\n\"You crow loud enough to deafen one,\" said the donkey; \"what is the\nmatter with you?\"\n\n\"I prophesied fair weather,\" said the cock, \"because it is our good\nmistress's washing-day, and she wants to dry the clothes; but because\nto-morrow is Sunday, and company is coming, the mistress has no pity\non me, and has told the cook to put me into the soup to-morrow, and I\nmust have my head cut off to-night: so now I am crowing with all my\nmight as long as I can.\"\n\n\"O you old Redhead,\" said the donkey, \"you had better come with us; we\nare going to Bremen, where you will certainly find something better\nthan having your head cut off; you have a good voice, and if we all\nmake music together, it will be something striking.\"\n\nThe cock liked the proposal, and they went on, all four together.\n\nBut they could not reach the city of Bremen in one day, and they came\nin the evening to a wood, where they agreed to spend the night. The\ndonkey and the dog laid themselves down under a great tree, but the\ncat and the cock went higher--the cock flying up to the topmost\nbranch, where he was safest. Before he went to sleep he looked round\ntowards all the four points of the compass, and he thought he saw a\nspark shining in the distance. He called to his companions that there\nmust be a house not far off; for he could see a light. The donkey\nsaid: \"Then we must rise and go to it, for the lodgings here are very\nbad;\" and the dog said, \"Yes; a few bones with a little flesh on them\nwould do me good.\" So they took the road in the direction where the\nlight was, and soon saw it shine brighter; and it got larger and\nlarger till they came to a brilliantly-illumined robber's house. The\ndonkey, being the biggest, got up at the window and looked in.\n\n\"What do you see, Greybeard?\" said the cock.\n\n\"What do I see?\" answered the donkey: \"a table covered with beautiful\nfood and drink, and robbers are sitting round it and enjoying\nthemselves.\"\n\n\"That would do nicely for us,\" said the cock.\n\n\"Yes, indeed, if we were only there,\" replied the donkey.\n\nThe animals then consulted together how they should manage to drive\nout the robbers, till at last they settled on a plan. Tie donkey was\nto place himself with his forefeet on the window-sill, the dog to\nclimb on the donkey's back, and the cat on the dog's, and, at last,\nthe cock was to fly up and perch himself on the cat's head. When that\nwas done, at a signal they began their music all together: the donkey\nbrayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cock crowed; then, with\none great smash, they dashed through the window into the room, so that\nthe glass clattered down. The robbers jumped up at this dreadful\nnoise, thinking that nothing less than a ghost was coming in, and ran\naway into the wood in a great fright. The four companions then sat\ndown at the table, quite content with what was left there, and ate as\nif they were expecting to fast for a month to come.\n\nWhen the four musicians had finished, they put out the light, and each\none looked out for a suitable and comfortable sleeping-place. The\ndonkey lay down on the dunghill, the dog behind the door, the cat on\nthe hearth near the warm ashes, and the cock set himself on the\nhen-roost; and, as they were all tired with their long journey, they\nsoon went to sleep. Soon after midnight, as the robbers in the\ndistance could see that no more lights were burning in the house, and\nas all seemed quiet, the captain said, \"We ought not to have let\nourselves be scared so easily,\" and sent one of them to examine the\nhouse. The messenger found everything quiet, went into the kitchen to\nlight a candle, and, thinking the cat's shining fiery eyes were live\ncoals, he held a match to them to light it. But the cat did not\nunderstand the joke, flew in his face, spat at him, and scratched. He\nwas dreadfully frightened, ran away, and was going out of the back\ndoor; when the dog, who was lying there, jumped up and bit him in the\nleg. As he ran through the yard, past the dunghill, the donkey gave\nhim a good kick with his hind-foot; and the cock being awakened, and\nmade quite lively by the noise, called out from the hen-roost\n\"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\"\n\nThe robber ran as hard as he could, back to the captain, and said:\n\"Oh, dear! in the house sits a horrid old witch, who blew at me, and\nscratched my face with her long fingers; and by the door stands a man\nwith a knife, who stabbed me in the leg; and in the yard lies a black\nmonster, who hit me with a club; and up on the roof there sits the\njudge, who called out, 'Bring the rascal up here'--so I made the best\nof my way off.\"\n\nFrom that time the robbers never trusted themselves again in the\nhouse; but the four musicians liked it so well that they could not\nmake up their minds to leave it, and spent there the remainder of\ntheir days, as the last person who told the story is ready to avouch\nfor a fact.\n\n\n\n\nRIQUET WITH THE TUFT\n\n\nOnce upon a time a queen had a little son, who was so ugly and\nill-made, that for a long time the poor little baby was thought hardly\nhuman. However, a good fairy, who presided at his birth, assured his\nmother that, though ugly, he would have so much sense and wit that he\nwould never be disagreeable; moreover, she bestowed on him the power\nof communicating these gifts to the person he should love best in the\nworld. At this the queen was a little comforted, and became still more\nso, when, as soon as he could speak, the infant began to say such\npretty and clever things that everybody was charmed with him. (I\nforgot to mention that his name was Riquet with the Tuft, because he\nwas born with a curious tuft of hair on the top of his head.)\n\nSeven or eight years after this, the queen of a neighbouring country\nhad two little daughters, twins, at whose birth the same fairy\npresided. The elder twin was more beautiful than the day--the younger\nso extremely ugly that the mother's extravagant joy in the first was\nall turned to grief about the second. So, in order to calm her\nfeelings, the fairy told her that the one daughter should be as stupid\nas she was pretty, while the other would grow up so clever and\ncharming that nobody would miss her want of beauty.\n\n\"Heaven grant it!\" sighed the queen; \"but are there no means of giving\na little sense to the one who is so beautiful?\"\n\n\"I can do nothing for her, madam,\" returned the fairy--\"nothing as\nregards her own fortunes; but I grant her the power of making the\nperson who best pleases her as handsome as herself.\"\n\nAccordingly, as the young princesses grew up, their perfections grew\nwith them; and nothing was spoken of but the beauty of the elder and\nthe wit of the younger. True, their faults increased equally: the one\nbecame uglier, and the other more stupid, day by day. Unlucky fair\none! she never had a word to say for herself, or else it was the\nsilliest word imaginable, and she was so awkward that she could not\nplace four teacups in a row without breaking at least one of them, nor\ndrink a glass of water without spilling half of it over her clothes.\nBeauty is a great charm; yet, whenever the sisters went out together,\nthose who were attracted by the elder's lovely face, in less than half\nan hour were sure to be seen at the side of the younger, laughing at\nher witty and pleasant sayings, and altogether deserting the poor\nbeauty, who had just sense enough to find it out, and to feel that she\nwould have given all her good looks for one half of her sister's\ntalents.\n\nOne day, when she had hid herself in a wood, and was crying over her\nhard fate, she saw coming towards her a little man, very ugly, but\nmagnificently dressed. Who should this be but Prince Riquet with the\nTuft? He had seen her portrait, had fallen desperately in love with\nher, and secretly quitted his father's kingdom that he might have the\npleasure of meeting her. Delighted to find her alone, he came forward\nwith all the respect and politeness imaginable. But he could not help\nnoticing how very melancholy she was, and that all the elegant\ncompliments he made her did not seem to affect her in the least.\n\n\"I cannot comprehend, madam,\" said he, \"how so charming and lovely a\nlady can be so very sad. Never did I see anyone who could at all\ncompare with you.\"\n\n\"That's all you know,\" said the princess, and stopped.\n\n\"Beauty,\" continued the prince, sighing, \"is so great an advantage\nthat, if one possessed it, one would never trouble oneself about\nanything else.\n\n\"I wish I were as ugly as you and had some sense, rather than be as\nhandsome as I am, and such a fool.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Riquet politely, though her speech was not exactly\ncivil, \"nothing shows intellect so much as the modesty of believing\none does not possess it.\"\n\n\"I don't know that; but I know I am a great fool, and it vexes me so,\nthat I wish I was dead,\" cried the princess bitterly.\n\n\"If that is all, madam, I can easily put an end to your grief, for I\nhave the power of making the person I love best as clever as I\nplease. I will do it, provided you consent to marry me.\"\n\nThe princess stood dumb with astonishment. She--to marry that little\nfrightful creature--scarcely a man at all!\n\n\"I see,\" said Riquet, \"that my proposal offends and grieves you. Well,\nI will give you a year to consider it.\"\n\nNow the young lady was so stupid that she thought a year's end was a\nlong way off--so long that it seemed as if it might not come at all,\nor something might happen between whiles. And she had such a longing\nto be clever and admired that she thought at all risks she would\naccept the chance of becoming so. Accordingly, she promised Riquet to\nmarry him that day twelvemonth.\n\nNo sooner had she said it than she felt herself quite another being.\nShe found she could at once say anything she chose, and say it in the\nmost graceful and brilliant way. She began a lively conversation with\nPrince Riquet, and chattered so fast and so wittily, that he began to\nbe afraid he had given her so much cleverness as to leave himself\nnone.\n\nWhen she returned to the palace, all the court were astonished at the\nchange. She, who had annoyed everybody by the impertinent, tasteless,\nor downright foolish things she uttered, now charmed everybody by her\nwit, her pleasantness, and her exceeding good sense. The king himself\nbegan to come to her apartment, and ask her advice in state affairs.\nHer mother, and indeed the whole kingdom, were delighted; the only\nperson to be pitied was the poor younger sister, of whom nobody now\ntook the least notice.\n\nMeantime, princes came in throngs to ask in marriage this wonderful\nprincess, who was as clever as she was beautiful; but she found none\nto suit her, probably because the more sense a lady has, the more\ndifficult she is to please. As for her promise to Riquet with the\nTuft, being given in the days when she was so dull and stupid, it now\nnever once came into her head; until one day, being quite perplexed by\nher numerous suitors, she went to take a solitary walk and think the\nmatter over, when by chance she came into the same wood where she had\nmet the prince. There, all of a sudden, she thought she heard a queer\nrunning about and chattering underground. \"Fetch me that spit,\" cried\none; \"Put some more wood on that fire,\" said another; and by and by\nthe earth opened, showing a great kitchen filled with cooks, cooking a\nsplendid banquet. They were all working merrily at their several\nduties, and singing together in the most lively chorus.\n\n\"What is all this about?\" asked the amazed princess.\n\n\"If you please, madam,\" replied the head-cook, politely, \"we are\ncooking the wedding-dinner of Prince Riquet with the Tuft, who is to\nbe married to-morrow.\"\n\n\"To-morrow!\" cried the princess, all at once recollecting her promise;\nat which she was so frightened that she thought she should have\nfallen to the earth. Greater still was her alarm when, at only a few\nsteps' distance, she beheld Riquet, dressed splendidly like a prince\nand a bridegroom.\n\n\"You see me, princess, exact to my word; and I doubt not you are the\nsame, come to make me the happiest of mankind.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" said the lady, frankly, \"I must confess that such was not my\nintention, and I fear I shall never be able to do as you desire.\"\n\n\"You surprise me, madam.\"\n\n\"I can well believe it; and if I had to do with a brute, instead of a\ngentleman of sense and feeling, I should be very uneasy,\" returned\nshe; \"but since I speak with the cleverest man in the world, I am sure\nhe will hear reason, and will not bind me, now a sensible woman, to a\npromise I made when I was only a fool.\"\n\n\"If I were a fool myself, madam, I might well complain of your broken\npromise; and being, as you say, a man of sense, should I not complain\nof what takes away all the happiness of my life? Tell me candidly, is\nthere anything in me, except my ugliness, which displeases you? Do you\nobject to my birth, my temper, my manners?\"\n\n\"No, truly,\" replied the princess; \"I like everything in you,\nexcept\"--and she hesitated courteously--\"except your appearance.\"\n\n\"Then, madam, I need not lose my happiness; for if I have the gift of\nmaking clever whosoever I love best, you also are able to make the\nperson you prefer as handsome as ever you please. Could you love me\nenough to do that?\"\n\n\"I think I could,\" said the princess, and her heart being greatly\nsoftened towards him, she wished that he might become the handsomest\nprince in all the world. No sooner had she done so than Riquet with\nthe Tuft appeared in her eyes the most elegant young man she had ever\nseen.\n\nIll-natured people have said that this was no fairy-gift, but that\nlove created the change. They declare that the princess, when she\nthought over her lover's perseverance, patience, good-humour, and\ndiscretion, and counted his numerous fine qualities of mind and\ndisposition, saw no longer the deformity of his body or the plainness\nof his features; that his hump was merely an exaggerated stoop, and\nhis awkward movements became only an interesting eccentricity. Nay,\neven his eyes, which squinted terribly, seemed always looking on all\nsides for her, in token of his violent love, and his great red nose\ngave him an air very martial and heroic.\n\nHowever this may be, it is certain that the princess married him; that\neither she retained her good sense, or he never felt the want of it;\nand he never again became ugly--or, at least, not in his wife's eyes;\nso they both lived very happy until they died.\n\n\n\n\nHOUSE ISLAND.\n\n\nThere lived in Norway, not far from the city of Drontheim, a rich and\nprosperous gentleman. He had an only daughter, called Aslog, the fame\nof whose beauty spread far and wide. The greatest men of the country\nsought her, but all were alike unsuccessful in their suit. Her father,\nwho thought his daughter delayed her choice only that she might choose\nthe better, forbore to interfere, and exulted in her prudence. But\nwhen, at length, the richest and noblest had tried their fortune with\nas little success as the rest, he grew angry, called his daughter, and\nsaid to her:--\n\n\"Hitherto I have left you to your free choice, but since I see that\nyou reject all without any distinction, and the very best of your\nsuitors seem not good enough for you, I will keep measures no longer\nwith you. What! shall my family become extinct, and my inheritance\npass away into the hands of strangers? I will break your stubborn\nspirit. I give you now till the festival of the great Winter-night; by\nthat time you must make your decision, or prepare to accept the\nhusband whom I myself shall select.\"\n\nNow Aslog secretly loved a youth named Orm, handsome, noble and brave.\nShe loved him with her whole soul, and would sooner die than bestow\nher hand on another. But Orm was poor, and poverty compelled him to\nkeep his love as secret as her own.\n\nWhen Aslog saw the darkness of her father's countenance, and heard his\nangry words, she turned pale as death, for she knew his temper, and\ndoubted not but that he would put his threats into execution. Without\nuttering a word in reply, she retired to her chamber, and pondered\nvainly how to escape the storm that hung over her. The great festival\napproached nearer and nearer, and her anguish increased every day.\n\nAt last the lovers resolved on flight. Orm knew a secure place, where\nthey could hide until they found an opportunity of quitting the\ncountry. So at night, when all were asleep, he led the trembling Aslog\nover the snow and ice-fields away to the mountains. The moon and the\nstars lighted them on their way. They had under their arms a few\narticles of dress and some skins of animals, which were all they could\ncarry. They ascended the mountains the whole night long, till they\nreached a lonely spot inclosed with lofty rocks. Here Orm conducted\nthe weary Aslog into a cave, the low and narrow entrance to which was\nhardly perceptible, but it soon enlarged to a great hall, reaching\ndeep into the mountain. He kindled a fire, and they now, reposing on\ntheir skins, sat in the deepest solitude far away from all the world.\n\nOrm was the first who had discovered this cave, which is shown to this\nvery day. But as no one then knew anything of it, they were safe from\nthe pursuit of Aslog's father. They passed the whole winter in this\nretirement, contented and even happy; for they knew they were married,\nand belonged to one another, and no cruel father could separate them\nmore. Orm used to go a-hunting, and Aslog stayed at home in the cave,\nminded the fire, and prepared the necessary food. Frequently did she\nmount the points of the rocks, but her eyes, did they wander ever so\nfar, saw only glittering snow-fields.\n\nThe spring now came on--the woods were green--the meadows put on their\nvarious colors, people began to wander out for summer pleasuring, and\nAslog could but rarely and with circumspection venture to leave the\ncave. One evening Orm came in with the intelligence that he had\nrecognised her father's servants in the distance, and that he could\nhardly have been unobserved by them. \"They will surround this place,\"\ncontinued he, \"and never rest till they have found us; we must quit\nour retreat, then, without a moment's delay.\"\n\nThey accordingly descended on the other side of the mountain, and\nreached the strand, where they fortunately found a boat. Orm pushed\noff, and the boat drove into the open sea. They had escaped their\npursuers, but they were now exposed to dangers of another kind:\nwhither should they turn? They could not venture to land, for Aslog's\nfather was lord of the whole coast, and they would infallibly fall\ninto his hands. Nothing then remained for them but to commit their\nbark to the wind and waves. They were driven along the entire night.\nAt break of day the coast had disappeared, and they saw nothing but\nthe sky, the sea, and the waves. They had not brought one morsel of\nfood with them, and thirst and hunger began now to torment them. Three\ndays did they toss about in this state of misery, and Aslog, faint and\nexhausted, saw nothing but certain death before her.\n\nAt length, on the evening of the third day, they discovered an island\nof tolerable magnitude, and surrounded by a number of smaller ones.\nOrm immediately steered for it, but, just as he came near it, there\nsuddenly rose a violent wind, and the sea rolled every moment higher\nand higher. He turned about with a view of approaching it on another\nside, but with no better success; his vessel, as often as it neared\nthe island, was driven back as if by an invisible power. \"God help\nus!\" he cried, and crossed himself, and looked on poor Aslog, who\nseemed to be dying of weakness before his eyes. But scarcely had the\nexclamation passed his lips when the storm ceased, the waves subsided,\nand the vessel came to the shore without encountering any hindrance.\nOrm jumped out on the beach; some mussels that he found on the strand\nstrengthened and revived the exhausted Aslog, so that she was soon\nable to leave the boat.\n\nThe island was overgrown with low dwarf shrubs, and seemed to be\nuninhabited; but when they had reached the middle of it, they\ndiscovered a house, which appeared to be half under the surface of\nthe earth. In the hope of meeting with human help, the wanderers\napproached it. They listened, but the most perfect silence reigned\nthere. Orm at length opened the door, and they both walked in: but\nwhat was their surprise, to find everything regulated and arranged as\nif for inhabitants, yet not a single living creature visible. The fire\nwas burning on the hearth, in the middle of the room, and a kettle\nwith fish hung on it, apparently only waiting for some one to take it\nup and eat it. The beds were made, and ready to receive their wearied\ntenants. Orm and Aslog stood for some time dubious, and looked on with\na certain degree of awe, but at last, overcome by hunger, they took up\nthe food and ate. When they had satisfied their appetites, and still\ndiscovered no human being, they gave way to weariness, and laid\nthemselves in the beds, which looked so peaceful and inviting to their\nwearied limbs.\n\nThey had expected to be awakened in the night by the owners of the\nhouse on their return home, but their expectation was not fulfilled;\nthey slept undisturbed till the morning sun shone in upon them. No one\nappeared on any of the following days, and it seemed as if some\ninvisible power had made ready the house for their reception. They\nspent the whole summer in perfect happiness: they were, to be sure,\nsolitary, yet they did not miss mankind. The wild birds' eggs, and the\nfish they caught, yielded them provisions in abundance.\n\nWhen autumn came, Aslog brought forth a son. In the midst of their\njoy at this, they were surprised by a wonderful apparition. The door\nopened on a sudden, and an old woman stepped in. She wore a handsome\nblue dress; there was something proud, but at the same time something\nstrange, in her appearance.\n\n\"Do not be afraid,\" said she, \"at my unexpected appearance. I am the\nowner of this house, and I thank you for the clean and neat state in\nwhich you have kept it, and for the good order in which I find\neverything with you. I would willingly have come sooner, but I had no\npower to do so till this little heathen (pointing to the new-born\nbabe) was come to the light. Now I have free access. Only fetch no\npriest from the mainland to christen it, or I must depart again. If\nyou will in this matter comply with my wishes, you may not only\ncontinue to live here, but all the good that ever you can wish for I\nwill do you. Whatever you take in hand shall prosper; good luck shall\nfollow you wherever you go. But break this condition, and depend upon\nit that misfortune after misfortune will come on you, and even on this\nchild will I avenge myself. If you want anything, or are in danger,\nyou have only to pronounce my name three times, and I will appear and\nlend you assistance. I am of the race of the old giants, and my name\nis Guru. But beware of uttering in my presence the name of Him whom no\ngiant may hear of, and never venture to make the sign of the cross, or\nto cut it on beam or board in the house. You may dwell in this house\nthe whole year long, only be so good as to give it up to me on Yule\nevening, when the sun is at the lowest, as then we celebrate our great\nfestival, and then only are we permitted to be merry. At least, if you\nshould not be willing to go out of the house, keep yourselves up in\nthe loft as quiet as possible the whole day long, and as you value\nyour lives do not look down into the room below until midnight is\npast. After that you may take possession of everything again.\"\n\nWhen the old woman had thus spoken she vanished, and Aslog and Orm\nlived without any disturbance, contented and happy. Orm never made a\ncast of his net without getting a plentiful draught; he never shot an\narrow from his bow that it was not sure to hit; in short, whatever\nthey took in hand, were it ever so trifling, evidently prospered.\n\nWhen Christmas came, they cleaned up the house in the best manner, set\neverything in order, kindled a fire on the hearth, and as the twilight\napproached they went up to the loft, where they remained quite still\nand quiet. At length it grew dark; they thought they heard a sound of\nwhizzing and snorting in the air, such as the swans used to make in\nthe winter time. There was a hole in the roof over the fireplace,\nwhich might be opened and shut either to let in the light from above,\nor to afford a free passage for the smoke. Orm lifted up the lid,\nwhich was covered with a skin, and put out his head. But what a\nwonderful sight then presented itself to his eyes! The little islands\naround were all lit up with countless blue lights, which moved about\nwithout ceasing, jumped up and down, then skipped to the shore,\nassembled together, and came nearer and nearer to the large island\nwhere Orm and Aslog lived. At last they reached it, and arranged\nthemselves in a circle around a large stone not far from the shore,\nand which Orm well knew. But what was his surprise when he saw that\nthe stone had now completely assumed the form of a man, though a\nmonstrous and gigantic one! He could clearly perceive that the little\nblue lights were borne by Dwarfs whose pale clay-coloured faces, with\ntheir huge noses and red eyes, disfigured too by birds' bills and\nowls' eyes, were supported by misshapen bodies, and they tottered and\nwabbled about here and there, so that they seemed to be at the same\ntime merry and in pain. Suddenly, the circle opened; the little ones\nretired on each side, and Guru--who was the woman Guru, whom Orm\nrecognised immediately, though she had risen in stature and size so as\nto be almost as gigantic as the stone man--advanced towards it. She\nthrew both her arms round the image, which immediately seemed to\nreceive life and motion. Then the Dwarfs, with wonderful capers and\ngrimaces, began a song, or, to speak more properly, a howl, with which\nthe whole island resounded and almost trembled at the noise. Orm,\nquite terrified, drew in his head, and he and Aslog remained in the\ndark, so still that they hardly ventured to draw their breath.\n\nThe procession moved on towards the house, as might be clearly\nperceived by the nearer approach of the shouting and crying. They were\nnow all come in, light and active; the Dwarfs were heard jumping about\non the benches, and heavy and loud sounded at intervals the steps of\nthe giants. Orm and his wife listened to the clattering of the plates,\nand the shouts of joy with which they celebrated their banquet. When\nit was over and midnight drew near, they began to dance to that\nravishing fairy-tune, which some have heard in the rocky glens, and\nlearned by listening to the underground musicians. As soon as Aslog\ncaught the sound of this air, she felt an irresistible longing to see\nthe dance. Nor was Orm able to keep her back. \"Let me look,\" said she,\n\"or my heart will burst.\" She took her child and placed herself at the\nextreme end of the loft, whence, without being observed, she could see\nall that passed. Long did she gaze, without taking off her eyes for an\ninstant, on the dance--on the bold and wonderful springs of the little\ncreatures, who seemed to float in the air, and not so much as to touch\nthe ground, while the ravishing melody of the Elves filled her whole\nsoul. The child, meanwhile, which lay in her arms grew sleepy and drew\nits breath heavily, and, without ever thinking on the promise she had\ngiven the old woman, she made, as is usual, the sign of the cross over\nthe mouth of the child, and said, \"Christ bless you, my babe!\"\n\nThe instant she had spoken the word there was raised a horrible,\npiercing cry. The Dwarfs tumbled head over heels out at the door with\nterrible crushing and crowding, their lights went out, and in a few\nminutes the whole house was clear of them and left desolate. Orm and\nAslog, frightened to death, hid themselves in the most retired nook\nthey could find. They did not venture to stir till daybreak, and not\ntill the sun shone through the hole in the roof down on the fireplace\ndid they feel courage enough to descend from the loft.\n\nThe table remained still covered as the underground people had left\nit; all their vessels, which were of silver, and manufactured in the\nmost beautiful manner, lay upon it. In the middle of the room, there\nstood upon the ground a huge copper kettle half full of sweet mead,\nand by the side of it a drinking-horn of pure gold. In the corner\nrested, against the wall, a stringed instrument, not unlike a\ndulcimer, which, as people believe, the Giantesses used to play on.\nThey gazed on what was before them, full of admiration, but without\nventuring to lay their hands on anything; how great and fearful was\ntheir amazement, when, on turning about, they saw sitting at the table\nan immense figure, which Orm instantly recognised as the Giant whom\nGuru had animated by her embrace. He was now a cold and hard stone.\nWhile they were standing gazing on it, Guru herself entered the room\nin her giant form. She wept so bitterly, that her tears trickled down\non the ground. It was long ere her sobbing permitted her to utter a\nsingle word; at last she spoke:--\n\n\"Great affliction have you brought on me, and henceforth I must weep\nwhile I live; yet as I know that you have not done this with evil\nintentions, I forgive you, though it were a trifle for me to crush the\nwhole house like an egg-shell over your heads.\"\n\n\"What have we done?\" cried Orm and Aslog, penetrated with the deepest\nsorrow.\n\n\"Alas!\" answered she, \"my husband, whom I love more than myself, there\nhe sits, petrified for ever; never again will he open his eyes! Three\nhundred years lived I with my father on the island of Kunnan, happy in\nthe innocence of youth, as the fairest among the Giant-maidens. Mighty\nheroes sued for my hand; the sea around that island is still filled\nwith the rocky fragments which they hurled against each other in their\ncombats. Andfind won the victory, and I plighted myself to him. But\nere I was married came the detestable Odin into the country, who\novercame my father, and drove us all from the island. My father and\nsisters fled to the mountains, and since that time my eyes have beheld\nthem no more. Andfind and I saved ourselves on this island, where we\nfor a long time lived in peace and quiet, and thought it would never\nbe interrupted. But destiny which no one escapes, had determined it\notherwise. Oluf came from Britain. They called him the Holy, and\nAndfind instantly found that his voyage would be inauspicious to the\nGiants. When he heard how Oluf's ship rushed through the waves, he\nwent down to the strand and blew the sea against him with all his\nstrength. The waves swelled up like mountains. But Oluf was still\nmore mighty than he; his ship flew unchecked through the billows like\nan arrow from a bow. He steered direct for our island. When the ship\nwas so near that Andfind thought he could reach it with his hands, he\ngrasped at the forepart with his right hand, and was about to drag it\ndown to the bottom, as he had often done with other ships. But Oluf,\nthe terrible Oluf, stepped forward, and crossing his hands over each\nother, he cried with a loud voice, \"Stand there as a stone till the\nlast day,\" and in the same instant my unhappy husband became a mass of\nrock. The ship sailed on unimpeded, and ran direct against the\nmountain, which it cut through, and separated from it the little\nisland which lies out yonder.\n\n\"Ever have I passed my life alone and forlorn. On Yule-eve alone can\npetrified Giants receive back their life for the space of seven hours,\nif one of their race embraces them, and is at the same time willing to\nsacrifice a hundred years. I loved my husband too well not to bring\nhim back to life every time that I could do it, even at this price,\nand I have not even counted how often I have done it, that I might not\nknow the hour when I myself should share his fate, and at the moment\nwhen I threw my arms around him become stone like him. But, alas! even\nthis comfort is taken from me; I can never more by any embrace awake\nhim. He has heard the Name which I dare not utter, and never again\nwill he see the light until the dawn of the last day shall bring it.\n\n\"I now go hence, and you will behold me no more. All that is here in\nthe house I give you; my dulcimer alone will I keep. But let no one\nventure to fix his habitation on the small islands that lie around\nhere. There dwell the little underground people whom you saw at the\nfestival, and I will protect them as long as I live!\"\n\nWith these words Guru vanished. The next spring Orm took the golden\nhorn and the silverware to Drontheim, where no one knew him. The value\nof these precious metals was so great that he was able to purchase\neverything requisite for a wealthy man. He laded his ship with his\npurchases, and returned back to the island, where he spent many years\nin unalloyed happiness, and Aslog's father was soon reconciled to his\nwealthy son-in-law.\n\nThe huge image remained sitting in the house; no human power was able\nto move it. So hard was the stone, that hammer and axe flew in pieces\nwithout making the slightest impression upon it. The giant sat there\ntill a holy man came to the island, who with one single word removed\nhim back to his former station, where he stands to this hour. The\ncopper kettle, which the underground people left behind them, was\npreserved as a memorial upon the island, which bears the name of House\nIsland to the present day.\n\n\n\n\nSNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED.\n\n\nA poor widow lived alone in a little cottage, in front of which was a\ngarden, where stood two little rose-trees: one bore white roses, the\nother red. The widow had two children, who resembled the two\nrose-trees: one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose-red. They\nwere two of the best children that ever lived; but Snow-white was\nquieter and more gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red liked best to jump\nabout in the meadows, to look for flowers and catch butterflies; but\nSnow-white sat at home with her mother, helped her in the house, or\nread to her when there was nothing else to do. The two children loved\none another so much, that they always walked hand in hand; and when\nSnow-white said, \"We will not forsake one another,\" Rose-red answered,\n\"Never, as long as we live;\" and the mother added, \"Yes, my children,\nwhatever one has, let her divide with the other.\" They often ran about\nin solitary places, and gathered red berries; and the wild creatures\nof the wood never hurt them, but came confidingly up to them. The\nlittle hare ate cabbage-leaves out of their hands, the doe grazed at\ntheir side, the stag sprang merrily past them, and the birds remained\nsitting on the boughs, and never ceased their songs. They met with no\naccident if they loitered in the wood and right came on; they lay down\ntogether on the moss, and slept till morning; and the mother knew\nthis, and was in no anxiety about them. Once, when they had spent the\nnight in the wood, and the red morning awoke them, they saw a\nbeautiful child in a shining white dress, sitting by the place where\nthey had slept, who, arising, and looking at them kindly, said\nnothing, but went into the wood. And when they looked round, they\nfound out that they had been sleeping close to a precipice, and would\ncertainly have fallen down it if they had gone a few steps farther in\nthe dark. Their mother told them it must have been the angel that\ntakes care of good children who had sat by them all night long.\n\nSnow-white and Rose-red kept their mother's cottage so clean, that it\nwas a pleasure to look into it. In the summer, Rose-red managed the\nhouse, and every morning she gathered a nosegay in which was a rose\noff each tree, and set it by her mother's bed before she awoke. In\nwinter Snow-white lighted the fire, and hung the kettle on the hook;\nand though it was only copper, it shone like gold, it was rubbed so\nclean. In the evening, when the snow fell, the mother said, \"Go,\nSnow-white, and bolt the door;\" and then they seated themselves on the\nhearth, and the mother took her spectacles, and read aloud out of a\ngreat book, and the two girls listened, and sat and span. Near them\nlay a lamb on the floor, and behind them, on a perch, sat a white\ndove, with its head under its wing.\n\nOne evening, as they were thus happy together, some one knocked to be\nlet in. The mother said, \"Quick, Rose-red, open the door; perhaps it\nis a traveller who seeks shelter.\" Rose-red went and pushed the bolt\nback, and thought it was a poor man, but a bear stretched his thick\nblack head into the door. Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the\nlittle lamb bleated, the little dove fluttered about, and Snow-white\nhid herself behind her mother's bed. However, the bear began to speak,\nand said, \"Do not be frightened, I will do you no harm; I am half\nfrozen, and only want to warm myself a little.\"\n\n\"You poor bear,\" said the mother, \"lay yourself down before the fire,\nonly take care your fur does not burn.\" Then she called out,\n\"Snow-white and Rose-red, come out; the bear will not hurt you--he\nmeans honestly by us.\" Then they both came out, and, by degrees, the\nlamb and the dove also approached, and ceased to be afraid. The bear\nsaid, \"Children, knock the snow a little out of my fur;\" and they\nfetched a broom, and swept the bear's skin clean; and he stretched\nhimself before the fire and growled softly, like a bear that was quite\nhappy and comfortable. In a short time, they all became quite friendly\ntogether, and the children played tricks with the awkward guest. They\npulled his hair, set their feet on his back, and rolled him here and\nthere; or took a hazel rod and beat him, and when he growled they\nlaughed. The bear was very much pleased with this frolic, only, when\nthey became too mischievous, he called out, \"Children, leave me\nalone.\"\n\n    \"Little Snow-white and Rose-red,\n    You will strike your lover dead.\"\n\nWhen bedtime came, and the others went to sleep, the mother said to\nthe bear: \"You can lie there on the hearth, and then you will be\nsheltered from the cold and the bad weather.\" At daybreak the two\nchildren let him out, and he trotted over the snow into the wood.\nHenceforward, the bear came every evening at the same hour, laid\nhimself on the hearth, and allowed the children to play with him as\nmuch as they liked; and they became so used to him, that the door was\nnever bolted until their black companion had arrived. When spring\ncame, and everything was green out of doors, the bear said one morning\nto Snow-white: \"Now I must go away, and may not come again the whole\nsummer.\"\n\n\"Where are you going, dear Bear?\" asked Snow-white.\n\n\"I must go into the wood, and guard my treasures from the bad dwarfs;\nin winter, when the ground is frozen hard, they have to stay\nunderneath, and cannot work their way through, but now that the sun\nhas thawed and warmed the earth, they break through, come up, seek,\nand steal: what is once in their hands, and lies in their caverns,\ndoes not come so easily into daylight again.\" Snow-white was quite\nsorrowful at parting, and as she unbolted the door for him, and the\nbear ran out, the hook of the door caught him, and a piece of his skin\ntore off; it seemed to Snow-white as if she had seen gold shining\nthrough, but she was not sure. But the bear ran quickly away, and soon\ndisappeared behind the trees.\n\nAfter some time, their mother sent the children into the wood to\ncollect faggots. They found there a large tree, which had been cut\ndown and lay on the ground, and by the trunk something was jumping up\nand down, but they could not tell what it was. As they came nearer,\nthey saw that it was a dwarf, with an old withered face, and a\nsnow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was stuck fast in a\ncleft in the tree, and the little fellow jumped about like a dog on a\nrope, and did not know how to help himself. He stared at the girls\nwith his fiery red eyes, and screamed out, \"Why do you stand there!\nCan't you come and render me some assistance?\"\n\n\"What is the matter with you, little man?\" asked Rose-red.\n\n\"Stupid little goose!\" answered the dwarf; \"I wanted to chop the tree,\nso as to have some small pieces of wood for the kitchen; we only want\nlittle bits; with thick logs, the small quantity of food that we cook\nfor ourselves--we are not, like you, great greedy people--burns\ndirectly. I had driven the wedge well in, and it was all going on\nright, but the detestable wood was too smooth, and sprang out\nunexpectedly; and the tree closed up so quickly, that I could not pull\nmy beautiful white beard out; now it is sticking there, and I can't\nget away. There you foolish, soft, milk-faces! you are laughing and\ncrying out, 'How ugly you are! how ugly you are!'\"\n\nThe children took a great deal of trouble, but they could not pull the\nbeard out; it stuck too fast.\n\n\"I will run and fetch somebody,\" said Rose red.\n\n\"You great ninny!\" snarled the dwarf, \"you want to call more people;\nyou are two too many for me now. Can't you think of anything better?\"\n\n\"Only don't be impatient,\" said Snow-white, \"I have thought of\nsomething;\" and she took her little scissors out of her pocket, and\ncut the end of the beard off.\n\nAs soon as the dwarf felt himself free, he seized a sack filled with\ngold that was sticking between the roots of the tree; pulling it out,\nhe growled to himself, \"You rude people, to cut off a piece of my\nbeautiful beard! May evil reward you!\" Then he threw his sack over his\nshoulders and walked away, without once looking at the children.\n\nSome time afterwards, Snow-white and Rose red wished to catch some\nfish for dinner. As they came near to the stream, they saw that\nsomething like a grasshopper was jumping towards the water, as if it\nwere going to spring in. They ran on and recognised the dwarf.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked Rose-red, \"You don't want to go into the\nwater?\"\n\n\"I am not such a fool as that,\" cried the dwarf, \"Don't you see the\ndetestable fish wants to pull me in?\"\n\nThe little fellow had been sitting there fishing, and, unluckily, the\nwind had entangled his beard with the line. When directly afterwards a\ngreat fish bit at his hook, the weak creature could not pull him out,\nso the fish was pulling the dwarf into the water. It is true he caught\nhold of all the reeds and rushes, but that did not help him much; he\nhad to follow all the movements of the fish, and was in imminent\ndanger of being drowned. The girls, coming at the right time, held him\nfast and tried to get the beard loose from the line, but in\nvain--beard and line were entangled fast together. There was nothing\nto do but to pull out the scissors and to cut off the beard, in doing\nwhich a little piece of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that, he cried\nout: \"Is that manners, you goose! to disfigure one's face so? Is it\nnot enough that you once cut my beard shorter? But now you have cut\nthe best part of it off, I dare not be seen by my people. I wish you\nhad had to run, and had lost the soles of your shoes!\" Then he fetched\na sack of pearls that lay among the rushes, and, without saying a word\nmore, he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.\n\nSoon after, the mother sent the two girls to the town to buy cotton,\nneedles, cord, and tape. The road led them by a heath, scattered over\nwhich lay great masses of rock. There they saw a large bird hovering\nin the air; it flew round and round just above them, always sinking\nlower and lower, and at last it settled down by a rock not far\ndistant. Directly after, they heard a piercing, wailing cry. They ran\nup, and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old\nacquaintance the dwarf, and was going to carry him off. The\ncompassionate children instantly seized hold of the little man, held\nhim fast, and struggled so long that the eagle let his prey go.\n\nWhen the dwarf had recovered from his first fright, he called out, in\nhis shrill voice: \"Could not you deal rather more gently with me? You\nhave torn my thin coat all in tatters, awkward, clumsy creatures that\nyou are!\" Then he took a sack of precious stones, and slipped behind\nthe rock again into his den. The girls, who were used to his\ningratitude, went on their way, and completed their business in the\ntown. As they were coming home again over the heath, they surprised\nthe dwarf, who had emptied his sack of precious stones on a little\nclean place, and had not thought that any one would come by there so\nlate. The evening sun shone on the glittering stones, which looked so\nbeautiful in all their colours, that the children could not help\nstanding still to gaze.\n\n\"Why do you stand there gaping?\" cried the dwarf, his ash-coloured\nface turning vermilion with anger.\n\nWith these cross words he was going away, when he heard a loud\nroaring, and a black bear trotted out of the wood towards them. The\ndwarf sprang up terrified, but he could not get to his lurking hole\nagain--the bear was already close upon him. Then he called out in\nanguish,--\n\n\"Dear Mr. Bear, spare me, and you shall have all my treasures; look\nat the beautiful precious stones that lie there. Give me my life! for\nwhat do you want with a poor thin little fellow like me? You would\nscarcely feel me between your teeth. Rather seize those two wicked\ngirls; they will be tender morsels for you, as fat as young quails;\npray, eat them at once.\"\n\nThe bear, without troubling himself to answer, gave the malicious\ncreature one single stroke with his paw, and he did not move again.\nThe girls had run away, but the bear called after them, \"Snow-white\nand Rose-red, do not be frightened; wait, I will go with you.\nRecognising the voice of their old friend, they stood still, and when\nthe bear came up to them his skin suddenly fell off; and behold he was\nnot a bear, but a handsome young man dressed all in gold.\n\n\"I am a king's son,\" said he; \"I was changed by the wicked dwarf, who\nhad stolen all my treasures, into a wild bear, and obliged to run\nabout in the wood until I should be freed by his death. Now he has\nreceived his well-deserved punishment.\"\n\nSo they all went home together to the widow's cottage, and Snow-white\nwas married to the prince, and Rose-red to his brother. They divided\nbetween them the great treasures which the dwarf had amassed. The old\nmother lived many quiet and happy years with her children; but when\nshe left her cottage for the palace, she took the two rose-trees with\nher, and they stood before her window and bore every year the most\nbeautiful roses--one white and the other red.\n\n\n\n\nJACK AND THE BEAN-STALK.\n\n\nIn the days of King Alfred, there lived a poor woman, whose cottage\nwas in a remote country village, many miles from London. She had been\na widow some years, and had an only child named Jack, whom she\nindulged so much that he never paid the least attention to anything\nshe said, but was indolent, careless, and extravagant. His follies\nwere not owing to a bad disposition, but to his mother's foolish\npartiality. By degrees, he spent all that she had--scarcely anything\nremained but a cow. One day, for the first time in her life, she\nreproached him: \"Cruel, cruel boy! you have at last brought me to\nbeggary. I have not money enough to purchase even a bit of bread;\nnothing now remains to sell but my poor cow! I am sorry to part with\nher; it grieves me sadly, but we cannot starve.\" For a few minutes\nJack felt remorse, but it was soon over; and he began asking his\nmother to let him sell the cow at the next village; teasing her so\nmuch, that she at last consented. As he was going along he met a\nbutcher, who inquired why he was driving the cow from home? Jack\nreplied, he was going to sell it. The butcher held some curious beans\nin his hat; they were of various colors, and attracted Jack's\nattention; this did not pass unnoticed by the man, who, knowing\nJack's easy temper, thought now was the time to take an advantage of\nit; and, determined not to let slip so good an opportunity, asked what\nwas the price of the cow, offering at the same time all the beans in\nhis hat for her. The silly boy could not conceal the pleasure he felt\nat what he supposed so great an offer: the bargain was struck\ninstantly, and the cow exchanged for a few paltry beans. Jack made the\nbest of his way home, calling aloud to his mother before he reached\nthe door, thinking to surprise her.\n\nWhen she saw the beans, and heard Jack's account, her patience quite\nforsook her: she tossed the beans out of the window, where they fell\non the garden-bed below. Then she threw her apron over her head, and\ncried bitterly. Jack attempted to console her, but in vain, and, not\nhaving anything to eat, they both went supperless to bed. Jack awoke\nearly in the morning, and seeing something uncommon darkening the\nwindow of his bedchamber, ran downstairs into the garden, where he\nfound some of the beans had taken root, and sprung up surprisingly:\nthe stalks were of an immense thickness, and had twined together until\nthey formed a ladder like a chain, and so high that the top appeared\nto be lost in the clouds. Jack was an adventurous lad; he determined\nto climb up to the top, and ran to tell his mother, not doubting but\nthat she would be equally pleased with himself. She declared he should\nnot go; said it would break her heart if he did--entreated and\nthreatened, but all in vain. Jack set out, and after climbing for\nsome hours, reached the top of the bean-stalk, quite exhausted.\nLooking around, he found himself in a strange country; it appeared to\nbe a barren desert--not a tree, shrub, house, or living creature was\nto be seen; here and there were scattered fragments of stone; and at\nunequal distances, small heaps of earth were loosely thrown together.\n\nJack seated himself pensively upon a block of stone, and thought of\nhis mother; he reflected with sorrow upon his disobedience in climbing\nthe bean-stalk against her will, and concluded that he must die of\nhunger. However, he walked on, hoping to see a house, where he might\nbeg something to eat and drink. He did not find it; but he saw at a\ndistance a beautiful lady, walking all alone. She was elegantly clad,\nand carried a white wand, at the top of which sat a peacock of pure\ngold.\n\nJack, who was a gallant fellow, went straight up to her; when, with a\nbewitching smile, she asked him how he came there. He told her all\nabout the bean-stalk. The lady answered him by a question, \"Do you\nremember your father, young man?\"\n\n\"No, madam; but I am sure there is some mystery about him, for when I\nname him to my mother she always begins to weep, and will tell me\nnothing.\"\n\n\"She dare not,\" replied the lady, \"but I can and will. For know, young\nman, that I am a fairy, and was your father's guardian. But fairies\nare bound by laws as well as mortals; and by an error of mine I lost\nmy power for a term of years, so that I was unable to succour your\nfather when he most needed it, and he died.\" Here the fairy looked so\nsorrowful that Jack's heart warmed to her, and he begged her earnestly\nto tell him more.\n\n\"I will; only you must promise to obey me in everything, or you will\nperish yourself.\"\n\nJack was brave, and, besides, his fortunes were so bad they could not\nwell be worse--so he promised.\n\nThe fairy continued: \"Your father, Jack, was a most excellent,\namiable, generous man. He had a good wife, faithful servants, plenty\nof money; but he had one misfortune--a false friend. This was a giant,\nwhom he had succoured in misfortune, and who returned his kindness by\nmurdering him, and seizing on all his property; also making your\nmother take a solemn oath that she would never tell you anything about\nyour father, or he would murder both her and you. Then he turned her\noff with you in her arms, to wander about the wide world as she might.\nI could not help her, as my power only returned on the day you went to\nsell your cow.\"\n\n\"It was I,\" added the fairy, \"who impelled you to take the beans, who\nmade the bean-stalk grow, and inspired you with the desire to climb up\nit to this strange country; for it is here the wicked giant lives who\nwas your father's destroyer. It is you who must avenge him, and rid\nthe world of a monster who never will do anything but evil. I will\nassist you. You may lawfully take possession of his house and all his\nriches, for everything he has belonged to your father, and is\ntherefore yours. Now farewell! Do not let your mother know you are\nacquainted with your father's history; this is my command, and if you\ndisobey me you will suffer for it. Now go.\"\n\nJack asked where he was to go.\n\n\"Along the direct road, till you see the house where the giant lives.\nYou must then act according to your own just judgment, and I will\nguide you if any difficulty arises. Farewell!\"\n\nShe bestowed on the youth a benignant smile, and vanished.\n\nJack pursued his journey. He walked on till after sunset, when to his\ngreat joy, he espied a large mansion. A plain-looking woman was at the\ndoor: he accosted her, begging she would give him a morsel of bread\nand a night's lodging. She expressed the greatest surprise, and said\nit was quite uncommon to see a human being near their house; for it\nwas well known that her husband was a powerful giant, who would never\neat anything but human flesh, if he could possibly get it; that he\nwould walk fifty miles to procure it, usually being out the whole day\nfor that purpose.\n\nThis account greatly terrified Jack, but still he hoped to elude the\ngiant, and therefore he again entreated the woman to take him in for\none night only, and hide him where she thought proper. She at last\nsuffered herself to be persuaded, for she was of a compassionate and\ngenerous disposition, and took him into the house. First, they entered\na fine large hall, magnificently furnished; they then passed through\nseveral spacious rooms, in the same style of grandeur; but all\nappeared forsaken and desolate. A long gallery came next; it was very\ndark--just light enough to show that, instead of a wall on one side,\nthere was a grating of iron which parted off a dismal dungeon, from\nwhence issued the groans of those victims whom the cruel giant\nreserved in confinement for his own voracious appetite. Poor Jack was\nhalf dead with fear, and would have given the world to have been with\nhis mother again, for he now began to doubt if he should ever see her\nmore; he even mistrusted the good woman, and thought she had let him\ninto the house for no other purpose than to lock him up among the\nunfortunate people in the dungeon. However, she bade Jack sit down,\nand gave him plenty to eat and drink; and he, not seeing anything to\nmake him uncomfortable, soon forgot his fear and was just beginning to\nenjoy himself, when he was startled by a loud knocking at the outer\ndoor, which made the whole house shake.\n\n\"Ah! that's the giant; and if he sees you he will kill you and me\ntoo,\" cried the poor woman, trembling all over. \"What shall I do?\"\n\n\"Hide me in the oven,\" cried Jack, now as bold as a lion at the\nthought of being face to face with his father's cruel murderer. So he\ncrept into the oven--for there was no fire near it--and listened to\nthe giant's loud voice and heavy step as he went up and down the\nkitchen scolding his wife. At last he seated himself at table, and\nJack, peeping through a crevice in the oven, was amazed to see what a\nquantity of food he devoured. It seemed as if he never would have done\neating and drinking; but he did at last, and, leaning back, called to\nhis wife in a voice like thunder:\n\n\"Bring me my hen!\"\n\nShe obeyed, and placed upon the table a very beautiful live hen.\n\n\"Lay!\" roared the giant, and the hen laid immediately an egg of solid\ngold.\n\n\"Lay another!\" and every time the giant said this the hen laid a\nlarger egg than before.\n\nHe amused himself a long time with his hen, and then sent his wife to\nbed, while he fell asleep by the fireside, and snored like the roaring\nof cannon.\n\nAs soon as he was asleep, Jack crept out of the oven, seized the hen,\nand ran off with her. He got safely out of the house, and finding his\nway along the road he came, reached the top of the bean-stalk, which\nhe descended in safety.\n\nHis mother was overjoyed to see him. She thought he had come to some\nill end.\n\n\"Not a bit of it, mother. Look here!\" and he showed her the hen. \"Now\nlay;\" and the hen obeyed him as readily as the giant, and laid as many\ngolden eggs as he desired.\n\nThese eggs being sold, Jack and his mother got plenty of money, and\nfor some months lived very happily together; till Jack got another\ngreat longing to climb the bean-stalk, and carry away some more of the\ngiant's riches. He had told his mother of his adventure, but had been\nvery careful not to say a word about his father. He thought of his\njourney again and again, but still he could not summon resolution\nenough to break it to his mother, being well assured that she would\nendeavour to prevent his going. However, one day he told her boldly,\nthat he must take another journey up the bean-stalk; she begged and\nprayed him not to think of it, and tried all in her power to dissuade\nhim. She told him that the giant's wife would certainly know him\nagain, and that the giant would desire nothing better than to get him\ninto his power, that he might put him to a cruel death, in order to be\nrevenged for the loss of his hen. Jack, finding that all his arguments\nwere useless, ceased speaking, though resolved to go at all events. He\nhad a dress prepared which would disguise him, and something to colour\nhis skin; he thought it impossible for any one to recollect him in\nthis dress.\n\nA few mornings after, he rose very early, and, unperceived by any one,\nclimbed the bean-stalk a second time. He was greatly fatigued when he\nreached the top, and very hungry. Having rested some time on one of\nthe stones, he pursued his journey to the giant's mansion, which he\nreached late in the evening: the woman was at the door as before. Jack\naddressed her, at the same time telling her a pitiful tale, and\nrequesting that she would give him some victuals and drink, and also a\nnight's lodging.\n\nShe told him (what he knew before very well) about her husband's being\na powerful and cruel giant, and also that she had one night admitted a\npoor, hungry, friendless boy; that the little ungrateful fellow had\nstolen one of the giant's treasures; and ever since that her husband\nhad been worse than before, using her very cruelly, and continually\nupbraiding her with being the cause of his misfortune. Jack felt sorry\nfor her, but confessed nothing, and did his best to persuade her to\nadmit him, but found it a very hard task. At last she consented, and\nas she led the way, Jack observed that everything was just as he had\nfound it before: she took him into the kitchen, and after he had done\neating and drinking, she hid him in an old lumber-closet. The giant\nreturned at the usual time, and walked in so heavily, that the house\nwas shaken to its foundation. He seated himself by the fire, and soon\nafter exclaimed: \"Wife, I smell fresh meat!\"\n\nThe wife replied it was the crows, which had brought a piece of raw\nmeat, and left it at the top of the house. While supper was preparing,\nthe giant was very ill-tempered and impatient, frequently lifting up\nhis hand to strike his wife for not being quick enough. He was also\ncontinually upbraiding her with the loss of his wonderful hen.\n\nAt last, having ended his supper, he cried, \"Give me something to\namuse me--my harp or my money-bags.\"\n\n\"Which will you have, my dear?\" said the wife, humbly.\n\n\"My money-bags, because they are the heaviest to carry,\" thundered he.\n\nShe brought them, staggering under the weight: two bags--one filled\nwith new guineas, and the other with new shillings; she emptied them\nout on the table, and the giant began counting them in great glee.\n\"Now you may go to bed, you old fool.\" So the wife crept away.\n\nJack from his hiding-place watched the counting of the money, which he\nknew was his poor father's, and wished it was his own; it would give\nhim much less trouble than going about selling the golden eggs. The\ngiant, little thinking he was so narrowly observed, reckoned it all\nup, and then replaced it in the two bags, which he tied up very\ncarefully and put beside his chair, with his little dog to guard them.\nAt last he fell asleep as before, and snored so loud, that Jack\ncompared his noise to the roaring of the sea in a high wind, when the\ntide is coming in. At last Jack, concluding all secure, stole out, in\norder to carry off the two bags of money; but just as he laid his hand\nupon one of them, the little dog, which he had not perceived before,\nstarted from under the giant's chair and barked most furiously.\nInstead of endeavouring to escape, Jack stood still, though expecting\nhis enemy to awake every instant. Contrary, however, to his\nexpectation, the giant continued in a sound sleep, and Jack, seeing a\npiece of meat, threw it to the dog, who at once ceased barking, and\nbegan to devour it. So Jack carried off the bags, one on each\nshoulder, but they were so heavy that it took him two whole days to\ndescend the bean-stalk and get back to his mother's door.\n\nWhen he came he found the cottage deserted. He ran from one room to\nanother, without being able to find any one; he then hastened into the\nvillage, hoping to see some of the neighbours, who could inform him\nwhere he could find his mother. An old woman at last directed him to a\nneighbouring house, where she was ill of a fever. He was greatly\nshocked at finding her apparently dying, and blamed himself bitterly\nas the cause of it all. However, at sight of her dear son, the poor\nwoman revived, and slowly recovered health. Jack gave her his two\nmoney-bags; they had the cottage rebuilt and well furnished, and lived\nhappier than they had ever done before.\n\nFor three years Jack heard no more of the bean-stalk, but he could not\nforget it, though he feared making his mother unhappy. It was in vain\nendeavouring to amuse himself; he became thoughtful, and would arise\nat the first dawn of day, and sit looking at the bean-stalk for hours\ntogether. His mother saw that something preyed upon his mind, and\nendeavoured to discover the cause; but Jack knew too well what the\nconsequence would be should she succeed. He did his utmost, therefore,\nto conquer the great desire he had for another journey up the\nbean-stalk. Finding, however, that his inclination grew too powerful\nfor him, he began to make secret preparations for his journey. He got\nready a new disguise, better and more complete than the former; and\nwhen summer came, on the longest day he awoke as soon as it was light,\nand without telling his mother, ascended the bean-stalk. He found the\nroad, journey, &c., much as it was on the two former times. He arrived\nat the giant's mansion in the evening, and found the wife standing, as\nusual, at the door. Jack had disguised himself so completely, that she\ndid not appear to have the least recollection of him; however, when he\npleaded hunger and poverty, in order to gain admittance, he found it\nvery difficult indeed to persuade her. At last he prevailed, and was\nconcealed in the copper. When the giant returned, he said furiously,\n\"I smell fresh meat!\" But Jack felt quite composed, as he had said so\nbefore, and had been soon satisfied. However, the giant started up\nsuddenly, and, notwithstanding all his wife could say, he searched all\nround the room. Whilst this was going forward, Jack was exceedingly\nterrified, wishing himself at home a thousand times; but when the\ngiant approached the copper, and put his hand upon the lid, Jack\nthought his death was certain. However, nothing happened; for the\ngiant did not take the trouble to lift up the lid, but sat down\nshortly by the fireside, and began to eat his enormous supper. When he\nhad finished, he commanded his wife to fetch down his harp. Jack\npeeped under the copper-lid, and saw a most beautiful harp. The giant\nplaced it on the table, said \"Play!\" and it played of its own accord,\nwithout anybody touching it, the most exquisite music imaginable.\nJack, who was a very good musician, was delighted, and more anxious to\nget this than any other of his enemy's treasures. But the giant not\nbeing particularly fond of music, the harp had only the effect of\nlulling him to sleep earlier than usual. As for the wife, she had gone\nto bed as soon as ever she could.\n\nAs soon as he thought all was safe, Jack got out of the copper, and\nseizing the harp, was eagerly running off with it. But the harp was\nenchanted by a fairy, and as soon as it found itself in strange hands,\nit called out loudly, just as if it had been alive, \"Master! Master!\"\n\nThe giant awoke, started up, and saw Jack scampering away as fast as\nhis legs could carry him.\n\n\"Oh you villain! it is you who have robbed me of my hen and my\nmoney-bags, and now you are stealing my harp also. Wait till I catch\nyou, and I'll eat you up alive!\"\n\n\"Very well; try!\" shouted Jack, who was not a bit afraid, for he saw\nthe giant was so tipsy he could hardly stand, much less run; and he\nhimself had young legs and a clear conscience, which carry a man a\nlong way. So, after leading the giant a considerable race, he\ncontrived to be first at the top of the bean-stalk, and then scrambled\ndown it as fast as he could, the harp playing all the while the most\nmelancholy music till he said, \"Stop,\" and it stopped.\n\nArrived at the bottom, he found his mother sitting at her\ncottage-door, weeping silently.\n\n\"Here, mother, don't cry; just give me a hatchet; make haste.\" For he\nknew there was not a moment to spare; he saw the giant beginning to\ndescend the bean-stalk.\n\nHowever, it was too late--the monster's ill deeds had come to an end.\nJack with his hatchet cut the bean-stalk close off at the root; the\ngiant fell headlong into the garden, and was killed on the spot.\n\nInstantly the fairy appeared, and explained everything to Jack's\nmother, begging her to forgive Jack, who was his father's own son for\nbravery and generosity, and who would be sure to make her happy for\nthe rest of her days.\n\nSo all ended well, and nothing was ever beard or seen of the wonderful\nBean-stalk.\n\n\n\n\nGRACIOSA AND PERCINET.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a king and queen, who had an only\ndaughter. Her incomparable beauty, sweetness, and intelligence caused\nher to be named Graciosa. She was all her mother's joy. Every day she\nhad given her a different dress, of gold brocade, velvet, or satin;\nyet she was neither conceited nor boastful. She used to pass her\nmornings in study, and in the afternoon she sat sewing by the queen's\nside. She had, however, plenty of play-time, and sweetmeats without\nend, so that she was altogether the happiest princess alive.\n\nAt the same court was an elderly young lady named Duchess Grognon, who\nwas the very opposite of Graciosa. Her hair was fiery red, her face\nfat and spotty, and she had but one eye. Her mouth was so big that you\nmight have thought she could eat you up, only she had no teeth to do\nit with; she was also humpbacked and lame. Of course she could not\nhelp her ugliness, and nobody would have disliked her for that, if she\nhad not been of such an unpleasant temper that she hated everything\nsweet and beautiful, and especially Graciosa. She had also a very good\nopinion of herself, and when any one praised the princess, would say\nangrily, \"That is a lie! My little finger is worth her whole body.\"\n\nIn course of time the queen fell sick and died, and her daughter was\nalmost broken-hearted. So was her husband for a year, and then he\nbegan to comfort himself by hunting. One day, after a long chase, he\ncame to a strange castle, which happened to be that of the Duchess\nGrognon. She, informed of his approach, went out to meet him, and\nreceived him most respectfully. As he was very hot with hunting, she\ntook him into the coolest place in the palace, which was a vaulted\ncave, most elegantly furnished, where there were two hundred barrels\narranged in long rows.\n\n\"Madam, are these all yours?\" inquired the king.\n\n\"Yes, sire, but I shall be most happy if you will condescend to taste\ntheir contents. Which wine do you prefer--canary, hermitage,\nchampagne?\" and she ran over a long list, out of which his majesty\nmade his choice.\n\nGrognon took a little hammer, and struck \"toc, toc,\" on the cask, from\nwhich there rolled out a handful of silver money. \"Nay, what is this?\"\nsaid she, smiling, and passed on to the next, from which, when she\ntapped it, out poured a stream of gold coins. \"I never saw the\nlike--what nonsense!\" and she tried the third, out of which came a\nheap of pearls and diamonds, so that the floor of the cave was strewn\nwith them. \"Sire,\" she exclaimed, \"some one has robbed me of my good\nwine, and put this rubbish in its place.\"\n\n\"Rubbish, madam! Why, such rubbish would buy my whole kingdom.\"\n\n\"It is yours, sire,\" replied the duchess, \"if you will make me your\nqueen.\"\n\nThe king, who was a great lover of money, replied eagerly, \"Certainly,\nmadam, I'll marry you to-morrow if you will.\"\n\nGrognon, highly delighted, made but one other condition--that she\nshould have the Princess Graciosa entirely in her own rule and power,\njust as if she had been her real mother; to which the foolish king\nconsented, for he thought much more of riches than he did of his\nchild. So he and Grognon departed hand in hand out of the cave, very\nwell pleased.\n\nWhen the king returned home, Graciosa ran out with joy to welcome her\nfather, and asked him if he had had good sport in his hunting.\n\n\"Yes, my child,\" said he, \"for I have taken a dove alive.\"\n\n\"Oh, give it me, and I will nourish and cherish it,\" cried the\nprincess.\n\n\"That is impossible; for it is the Duchess Grognon, whom I have\npromised to marry.\"\n\n\"She a dove!--she is rather a hawk,\" sighed the princess in despair;\nbut her father bade her hold her tongue, and promise to love her\nstepmother, who would have over her all the authority of a mother, and\nto whom he wished to present her that very day.\n\nThe obedient princess went to her apartment, where her nurse soon\nfound out the sorrow in her face, and its cause.\n\n\"My child,\" said the good old woman, \"princesses ought to show a good\nexample to humbler women. Promise me to do your best to please your\nfather, and to make yourself agreeable to the stepmother he has\nchosen for you. She may not be so bad after, all.\"\n\nAnd the nurse gave so much good advice, that Graciosa began to smile,\nand dressed herself in her best attire, a green robe embroidered with\ngold; while her fair, loose-falling hair was adorned, according to the\nfashion of the day, with a coronet of jasmine, of which the leaves\nwere made of large emeralds.\n\nGrognon, on her part, made the best of herself that was possible. She\nput on a high-heeled shoe to appear less lame, she padded her\nshoulders, dyed her red hair black, and put in a false eye; then\ndressed herself in a hooped petticoat of violet satin trimmed with\nblue, and an upper gown of yellow with green ribands. In this costume,\nshe wished to enter the city on horseback, as she understood the\nqueens were in the habit of doing.\n\nMeantime, Graciosa waited in fear the moment of her arrival, and, to\npass the time away, she went all alone into a little wood, where she\nsobbed and wept in secret, until suddenly there appeared before her a\nyoung page, whom she had never seen before.\n\n\"Who are you?\" she inquired; \"and when did his majesty take you into\nhis service?\"\n\n\"Princess,\" said the page, bowing, \"I am in no one's service but your\nown. I am Percinet, a prince in my own country, so that there is no\ninequality of rank between us. I have loved you long, and seen you\noften, for I have the fairy gift of making myself invisible. I might\nlonger have concealed myself from you, but for your present sorrow,\nin which, however, I hope to be of both comfort and assistance--a page\nand yet a prince, and your faithful lover.\"\n\nAt these words, at once tender and respectful, the princess, who had\nlong heard of the fairy-prince Percinet, felt so happy that she feared\nGrognon no more. They talked a little while together, and then\nreturned to the palace, where the page assisted her to mount her\nhorse; on which she looked so beautiful, that all the new queen's\nsplendours faded into nothing in comparison, and not one of the\ncourtiers had eyes for any except Graciosa.\n\nAs soon as Grognon saw it, \"What!\" cried she, \"has this creature the\nimpudence to be better mounted than myself! Descend, Miss, and let me\ntry your horse;--and your page, whom everybody thinks so much of, bid\nhim come and hold my bridle.\"\n\nPrince Percinet, who was the page, cast one look at his fair Graciosa\nand obeyed; but no sooner had the duchess mounted, than the horse ran\naway with her and dragged her over briers, stones, and mud, and\nfinally threw her into a deep ditch. Her head was cut in several\nplaces, and her arm fractured. They picked her up in little pieces,\nlike a broken wineglass; never was there a poor bride in worse plight.\nBut in spite of her sufferings her malice remained. She sent for the\nking:\n\n\"This is all Graciosa's fault; she wished to kill me. I desire that\nyour majesty will punish her, or leave me to do it--else I will\ncertainly be revenged upon you both.\"\n\nThe king, afraid of losing his casks full of gold pieces, consented,\nand Graciosa was commanded to appear. She came trembling and looking\nround vainly for Prince Percinet. The cruel Grognon ordered four\nwomen, ugly as witches, to take her and strip off her fine clothes,\nand whip her with rods till her white shoulders were red with blood.\nBut lo! as soon as the rods touched her, they turned into bundles of\nfeathers, and the women tired themselves to death with whipping,\nwithout hurting Graciosa the least in the world!\n\n\"Ah! kind Percinet, what do I not owe you? What should I do without\nyou!\" sighed the princess, when she was taken back to her own chamber\nand her nurse. And then she saw the prince standing before her, in his\ngreen dress and his white plume, the most charming of pages.\n\nPercinet advised her to pretend illness on account of the cruel\ntreatment she was supposed to have received; which so delighted\nGrognon, that she got well all the sooner, and the marriage was\ncelebrated with great splendour.\n\nSoon after, the king, who knew that his wife's weak point was her\nvanity, gave a tournament, at which he ordered the six bravest knights\nof the court to proclaim that Queen Grognon was the fairest lady\nalive. No knight ventured to dispute this fact, until there appeared\none who carried a little box adorned with diamonds, and proclaimed\naloud that Grognon was the ugliest woman in the universe, and that the\nmost beautiful was she whose portrait was in the box. He opened it,\nand behold the image of the Princess Graciosa!\n\nThe princess, who sat behind her stepmother, felt sure that the\nunknown knight was Percinet; but she dared say nothing. The contest\nwas fixed for next day; but in the meantime, Grognon, wild with anger,\ncommanded Graciosa to be taken in the middle of the night to a forest\na hundred leagues distant, full of wolves, lions, tigers, and bears.\nIn vain the poor maiden implored that the attendants would kill her at\nonce, rather than leave her in that dreadful place: the queen's orders\nmust be obeyed; no answer was made to her, but the servants remounted\nand rode away. Graciosa, in solitude and darkness, groped through the\nforest, sometimes falling against the trunks of trees, sometimes\ntearing herself with bushes and briers; at last, overcome with fear\nand grief, she sank on the ground, sobbing out, \"Percinet, Percinet,\nhave you forsaken me?\"\n\nWhile she spoke, a bright light dazzled her eyes, the midnight forest\nwas changed into glittering alleys, at the end of which appeared a\npalace of crystal, shining like the sun. She knew it was the doing of\nthe fairy-prince who loved her, and felt a joy mingled with fear. She\nturned to fly, but saw him standing before her, more handsome and\ncharming than ever.\n\n\"Princess,\" said he, \"why are you afraid of me? This is the palace of\nthe fairy-queen my mother, and the princesses my sisters, who will\ntake care of you, and love you tenderly. Enter this chariot, and I\nwill convey you there.\"\n\nGraciosa entered, and passing through many a lovely forest glade,\nwhere it was clear daylight, and shepherds and shepherdesses were\ndancing to merry music, they reached the palace, where the queen and\nher two daughters received the forlorn princess with great kindness,\nand led her through many rooms of rock-crystal, glittering with\njewels, where, to her amazement, Graciosa saw the history of her own\nlife, even down to this adventure in the forest, painted on the walls.\n\n\"How is this?\" she said. \"Prince, you know everything about me.\"\n\n\"Yes; and I wish to preserve everything concerning you,\" said he\ntenderly; whereupon Graciosa cast down her eyes. She was only too\nhappy, and afraid that she should learn to love the fairy-prince too\nmuch.\n\nShe spent eight days in his palace--days full of every enjoyment; and\nPercinet tried all the arguments he could think of to induce her to\nmarry him, and remain there for ever. But the good and gentle Graciosa\nremembered her father who was once so kind to her, and she preferred\nrather to suffer than to be wanting in duty. She entreated Percinet to\nuse his fairy power to send her home again, and meantime to tell her\nwhat had become of her father.\n\n\"Come with me into the great tower there, and you shall see for\nyourself.\"\n\nThereupon he took her to the top of a tower, prodigiously high, put\nher little finger to his lips, and her foot upon his foot. Then he\nbade her look, and she saw as hi a picture, or as in a play upon the\nstage, the King and Grognon sitting together on their throne. The\nlatter was telling how Graciosa had hanged herself in a cave.\n\n\"She will not be much loss, sire; and as, when dead, she was far too\nfrightful for you to look at, I have given orders to bury her at\nonce.\"\n\nShe might well say that, for she had had a large faggot put into a\ncoffin, and sealed up; the king and all the nation mourned over it;\nand now, that she was no more, they declared there never was such a\nsweet creature as the lost princess.\n\nThe sight of her father's grief quite overcame Graciosa. \"Oh,\nPercinet!\" she cried, \"my father believes me dead. If you love me,\ntake me home.\"\n\nThe prince consented, though very sorrowfully, saying that she was as\ncruel to him as Grognon was to her, and mounted with her in his\nchariot, drawn by four white stags. As they quitted the courtyard,\nthey heard a great noise, and Graciosa saw the palace all falling to\npieces with a great crash.\n\n\"What is this?\" she cried, terrified.\n\n\"Princess, my palace, which you forsake, is among the things which are\ndead and gone. You will enter it no more till after your burial.\"\n\n\"Prince, you are angry with me,\" said Graciosa sorrowfully; only she\nknew well that she suffered quite as much as he did in thus departing\nand quitting him.\n\nArrived in her father's presence, she had great difficulty in\npersuading him that she was not a ghost, until the coffin with the\nfaggot inside it was taken up, and Grognon's malice discovered But\neven then, the king was so weak a man, that the queen soon made him\nbelieve he had been cheated, that the princess was really dead, and\nthat this was a false Graciosa. Without more ado, he abandoned his\ndaughter to her stepmother's will.\n\nGrognon, transported with joy, dragged her to a dark prison, took away\nher clothes, made her dress in rags, feed on bread and water, and\nsleep upon straw. Forlorn and hopeless, Graciosa dared not now call\nupon Percinet; she doubted if he still loved her enough to come to her\naid.\n\nMeantime, Grognon had sent for a fairy, who was scarcely less\nmalicious than herself. \"I have here,\" said she, \"a little wretch of a\ngirl for whom I wish to find all sorts of difficult tasks; pray assist\nme in giving her a new one every day.\"\n\nThe fairy promised to think of it, and soon brought a skein as thick\nas four persons, yet composed of thread so fine, that it broke if you\nonly blew upon it, and so tangled that it had neither beginning nor\nend. Grognon, delighted, sent for her poor prisoner.\n\n\"There, miss, teach your clumsy fingers to unwind this skein, and if\nyou break a single thread I will flay you alive. Begin when you like,\nbut you must finish at sunset, or it will be the worse for you.\" Then\nshe sent her to her miserable cell, and treble-locked the door.\n\nGraciosa stood dismayed, turning the skein over and over, and breaking\nhundreds of threads each time. \"Ah! Percinet,\" she cried in despair,\n\"come and help me, or at least receive my last farewell.\"\n\nImmediately Percinet stood beside her, having entered the cell as\neasily as if he carried the key in his pocket. \"Behold me, princess,\nready to serve you, even though you forsook me.\" He touched the skein\nwith his wand, and it untangled itself, and wound itself up in perfect\norder. \"Do you wish anything more, madam?\" asked he coldly.\n\n\"Percinet, Percinet, do not reproach me; I am only too unhappy.\"\n\n\"It is your own fault. Come with me, and make us both happy.\" But she\nsaid nothing, and the fairy-prince disappeared.\n\nAt sunset, Grognon eagerly came to the prison-door with her three\nkeys, and found Graciosa smiling and fair, her task all done. There\nwas no complaint to make, yet Grognon exclaimed that the skein was\ndirty, and boxed the princess's ears till her rosy cheeks turned\nyellow and blue. Then she left her, and overwhelmed the fairy with\nreproaches.\n\n\"Find me, by to-morrow, something absolutely impossible for her to\ndo.\"\n\nThe fairy brought a great basket full of feathers, plucked from every\nkind of bird--nightingales, canaries, linnets, larks, doves, thrushes,\npeacocks, ostriches, pheasants, partridges, magpies, eagles--in fact,\nif I told them all over, I should never come to an end; and all these\nfeathers were so mixed up together, that they could not be\ndistinguished.\n\n\"See,\" said the fairy, \"even one of ourselves would find it difficult\nto separate these, and arrange them as belonging to each sort of bird.\nCommand your prisoner to do it; she is sure to fail.\"\n\nGrognon jumped for joy, sent for the princess, and ordered her to take\nher task, and finish it, as before, by set of sun.\n\nGraciosa tried patiently, but she could see no difference in the\nfeathers; she threw them all back again into the basket, and began to\nweep bitterly. \"Let me die,\" said she, \"for death only will end my\nsorrows. Percinet loves me no longer; if he did, he would already have\nbeen here.\"\n\n\"Here I am, my princess,\" cried a voice from under the basket; and the\nfairy-prince appeared. He gave three taps with his wand--the feathers\nflew by millions out of the basket, and arranged themselves in little\nheaps, each belonging to a different bird.\n\n\"What do I not owe you?\" cried Graciosa.\n\n\"Love me!\" answered the prince, tenderly, and said no more.\n\nWhen Grognon arrived, she found the task done. She was furious at the\nfairy, who was as much astonished as herself at the result of their\nmalicious contrivances. But she promised to try once more; and for\nseveral days employed all her industry in inventing a box, which, she\nsaid, the prisoner must be forbidden on any account to open. \"Then,\"\nadded the cunning fairy, \"of course, being such a disobedient and\nwicked girl, as you say, she will open it, and the result will\nsatisfy you to your heart's content.\"\n\nGrognon took the box, and commanded Graciosa to carry it to her\ncastle, and set it on a certain table, in an apartment she named, but\nnot upon any account, to open it or examine its contents.\n\nGraciosa departed. She was dressed like any poor peasant, in a cotton\ngown, a woollen hood and wooden shoes; yet, as she walked along,\npeople took her for a queen in disguise, so lovely were her looks and\nways. But being weak with imprisonment, she soon grew weary, and,\nsitting down upon the edge of a little wood, took the box upon her\nlap. Suddenly a wonderful desire seized her to open it.\n\n\"I will take nothing out, I will touch nothing,\" said she to herself,\n\"but I must see what is inside.\"\n\nWithout reflecting on the consequences, she lifted up the lid, and\ninstantly there jumped out a number of little men and little women,\ncarrying little tables and chairs, little dishes, and little musical\ninstruments. The whole company were so small, that the biggest giant\namong them was scarcely the height of a finger. They leaped into the\ngreen meadow, separated into various bands, and began dancing and\nsinging, eating and drinking, to Graciosa's wonder and delight. But\nwhen she recollected herself, and wished to get them into the box\nagain, they all scampered away, played at hide-and-seek in the wood,\nand by no means could she catch a single one.\n\nAgain, in her distress, she called upon Percinet, and again he\nappeared; and, with a single touch of his wand, sent all the little\npeople back into the box. Then, in his chariot, drawn by stags, he\ntook her to the castle, where she did all that she had been commanded,\nand returned in safety, to her stepmother, who was more furious than\never. If a fairy could be strangled, Grognon certainly would have done\nit in her rage. At last, she resolved to ask help no more, but to work\nher own wicked will upon Graciosa.\n\nShe caused to be dug a large hole in the garden, and taking the\nprincess there, showed her the stone which covered it.\n\n\"Underneath this stone lies a great treasure; lift it up, and you will\nsee.\"\n\nGraciosa obeyed; and while she was standing at the edge of the pit,\nGrognon pushed her in, and let the stone fall down again upon her,\nburying her alive. After this, there seemed no more hope for the poor\nprincess.\n\n\"O Percinet,\" cried she, \"you are avenged. Why did I not return your\nlove, and marry you! Still, death will be less bitter, if only you\nregret me a little.\"\n\nWhile she spoke, she saw through the blank darkness a glimmer of\nlight; it came through a little door. She remembered what Percinet had\nsaid: that she would never return to the fairy palace, until after she\nwas buried. Perhaps this final cruelty of Grognon would be the end of\nher sorrows. So she took courage, crept through the little door, and\nlo! she came out into a beautiful garden, with long alleys,\nfruit-trees, and flower-beds. Well she knew it, and well she knew the\nglitter of the rock-crystal walls. And there, at the palace-gate,\nstood Percinet, and the queen, his mother, and the princesses, his\nsisters. \"Welcome, Graciosa!\" cried they all; and Graciosa, after all\nher sufferings, wept for joy.\n\nThe marriage was celebrated with great splendour; and all the fairies,\nfor a thousand leagues round, attended it. Some came in chariots drawn\nby dragons, or swans, or peacocks; some were mounted upon floating\nclouds, or globes of fire. Among the rest, appeared the very fairy who\nhad assisted Grognon to torment Graciosa. When she discovered that\nGrognon's poor prisoner was now Prince Percinet's bride, she was\noverwhelmed with confusion, and entreated her to forget all that had\npassed, because she really was ignorant who she had been so cruelly\nafflicting.\n\n\"But I will make amends for all the evil that I have done,\" said the\nfairy; and, refusing to stay for the wedding-dinner, she remounted her\nchariot, drawn by two terrible serpents, and flew to the palace of\nGraciosa's father. There, before either king, or courtiers, or\nladies-in-waiting could stop her--even had they wished to do it, which\nremains doubtful--she came behind the wicked Grognon, and twisted her\nneck, just as a cook does a barn-door fowl. So Grognon died and was\nburied, and nobody was particularly sorry for the same.\n\n\n\n\nTHE IRON STOVE.\n\n\nIn the days when magic was still of some avail, a king's son was\nenchanted by an old witch, and compelled to spend his life sitting\ninside a great Iron Stove in a wood. There he passed many years, and\nnobody could release him.\n\nOnce a king's daughter came into the wood. She had gone astray, and\ncould not find her father's kingdom again; and having wandered about\nfor nine days, at last she stood before the Iron Stove. Then a voice\ncame out of it, and said, \"Whence do you come, and where do you want\nto go?\"\n\nShe answered, \"I have wandered from my father's kingdom, and lost\nmyself, and cannot get home again.\"\n\nThen the voice spoke out of the Iron Stove: \"I will help you home\nagain, and that, too, in a short time, if you will promise to do what\nI desire. I am a greater prince than you are a princess, and I wish to\nmarry you.\"\n\nShe was very much frightened, and thought, \"Oh, what shall I do! How\ncan I marry an Iron Stove?\"\n\nHowever, as she wanted very much to go home to her father, she\npromised what was demanded of her. \"Very well,\" said the voice \"you\nmust come again, and bring a knife with you, and scrape a hole in the\niron.\"\n\nAnd the Iron Stove gave her for a companion something, or\nsomebody--she was not quite sure what--who walked by her side and did\nnot speak, but took her safe home within two hours. Then there was\ngreat joy in her father's palace, and the old king fell on her neck,\nand kissed her many times. But she was very sorrowful, and said: \"Dear\nfather, you little know what has happened to me; I should never have\ncome home again out of the great wild wood, if I had not passed by an\nIron Stove. But I had to promise faithfully that I would return back\nto it, and marry it.\"\n\nThe old king was so terrified that he nearly fell into a swoon; for he\nhad only this one child. They therefore consulted together, and\ndecided to send, not the princess, but a miller's daughter, who was\nvery beautiful; and leading her out, they gave her a knife, and told\nher how she was to scrape the Iron Stove. When she reached the wood,\nshe scraped away for four-and-twenty hours, but could not make the\nslightest impression. But when day began to break, a voice in the Iron\nStove called out, \"It seems to me that it is day out there.\"\n\nShe answered: \"It seems so to me too; I think I hear my father's mill\nturning.\"\n\n\"Oh, then, you are a miller's daughter; go straight back and send the\nking's daughter here!\"\n\nThen she returned and told the old king that the Iron Stove would not\nhave her; he wanted the princess only. The old king was greatly\nfrightened, and the princess wept. But they had still a swineherd's\ndaughter, who was still more beautiful than the miller's girl; so they\ngave her a piece of gold, in order that she might be persuaded to go,\ninstead of the king's daughter, to the Iron Stove. She was taken to\nthe wood as before, and had also to scrape for four-and-twenty hours;\nbut she could make no impression.\n\nNow, when dawn broke, a voice called out of the Stove, \"It seems to me\nit is day out there.\"\n\nThen she answered, \"It seems so to me too; I think I hear my father's\nlittle horn sounding.\"\n\n\"So you are the swineherd's daughter; go away directly, and bid the\nking's daughter come, and tell her it shall happen to her as I\nforewarned her; if she does not come, everything in the kingdom shall\nfall to pieces and tumble down, and no stone remain upon another.\"\n\nWhen the king's daughter heard this, she began to cry; but there was\nnothing else to be done--she must keep her promise. She took leave of\nher father, put a knife in her pocket, and went out to the Iron Stove\nin the wood. When she arrived there, she began to scrape and scrape;\nthe iron yielded, and in two hours she had already scraped a little\nhole. She looked in and saw a most beautiful youth: oh! he shone so\nwith gold and precious stones, that he pleased her to the very bottom\nof her heart. She scraped away faster than ever, till she made the\nhole so large that he was able to get out.\n\nThen he said, \"You are mine, and I am yours, you have freed me, and\nyou are my bride.\"\n\nHe wished to take her home to his kingdom, but she begged that she\nmight go once more to see her father; and the prince gave her leave,\non condition that she should speak no more than three words with him,\nand come back again. So she went home; but, alas! being a little\nchatter-box, she spoke more than three words. The Iron Stove\ndisappeared instantly, and was removed far away, over glass mountains\nand sharp swords; but the king's son, being now freed, was not shut up\nin it.\n\nThe princess took leave of her father, and took some money with her,\nbut not much, and went again into the great wood. There she looked\neverywhere for the Iron Stove, but it was not to be found.\n\nShe sought it for nine days, until her hunger was so great that she\ndid not know what to do; for she had eaten all the food she could\nfind, and had nothing left to keep her alive. At evening-tide she\nclimbed up into a little tree, and purposed spending the night there,\nfor fear of the wild beasts. But when midnight came she saw afar off a\nlittle glimmering light, and thinking, \"Oh! there I should be safe,\"\nclimbed down and went towards it.\n\nThen she came to a little old house, overgrown with grass, with a\nlittle heap of wood before the door. Wondering how it came there, she\nlooked in through the window, and saw nothing inside but a number of\nfat little frogs, and a table beautifully spread. There were on it\nroast meats and wines, and the plates and cups were all of silver. So\nshe took heart, and knocked. Immediately the fattest frog called out--\n\n    \"Maiden sweet and small,\n    Hutzelbein I call;\n      Hutzelbein's little dog.\n    Creep about and see\n    Who this can be.\"\n\nThen a little frog came and opened the door for her; and as soon as\nshe came in, the frogs all bade her welcome, and persuaded her to sit\ndown. They asked--\"Whence do you come? where do you want to go?\"\n\nThen she told them all that had happened to her, and how, because she\nhad disobeyed the command not to speak to her father more than three\nwords, the Stove had disappeared, as well as the king's son; now she\nwas determined to seek him, and to wander over mountain and valley\ntill she found him.\n\nThe old fat frog said--\n\n    \"Maiden sweet and small,\n    Hutzelbein I call;\n      Hutzelbein's little dog,\n    Creep about and see;\n    Bring the great box to me.\"\n\nThen the little frog went and brought the box. Afterwards they gave\nthe princess food and drink, and took her to a beautifully-made bed,\nall of silk and velvet; she laid herself in it, and slept peacefully.\n\nWhen day came she arose, and the old frog gave her three needles out\nof the great box, and told her to take them with her. They would be\nvery necessary to her, for she would have to go over a high glass\nmountain, and three sharp swords, and a great sea; if she passed all\nthose, she would recover her dearest prince. The frog also gave her,\nbesides the three needles, other gifts, which she was to take great\ncare of--namely, a plough-wheel, and three nuts.\n\nWith these she set off, and when she came to the slippery glass\nmountain, she stuck the three needles into it as she walked--some\nbefore her feet, and some behind--and so managed to get across. When\nshe was on the other side, she hid the needles, in a place which she\nhad noticed particularly, and went on her way. Afterwards she came to\nthe sharp-cutting swords, but she set herself on her plough-wheel and\nrolled safely over them. At last she came before a great lake, which\nshe had to sail across, and when she had done so she saw a great\ncastle. She went in and said she was a poor maiden, who wished very\nmuch to hire herself out, if she might be taken in there as a servant.\nFor the frogs had told her that the king's son, whom she had released\nout of the Iron Stove in the great wood, dwelt there; so she was\ncontent to be taken as kitchen-maid, for very small pay.\n\nNow the king's son had thought the princess was dead; and there was\nnow with him another maiden, whom he had been persuaded he ought to\nmarry, which grieved the poor kitchen-maid very much.\n\nIn the evening, when she had washed up the dishes, and had done all\nher work, she felt in her pocket, and found the three nuts which the\nold frog had given her. She bit one open, and was going to eat the\nkernel, when, behold, inside it was the most beautiful dress\nimaginable--so beautiful that the bride soon heard of it, came and\nasked to see it, and wanted to buy it, saying it was no dress for a\nkitchen-maid. But the kitchen-maid thought differently, and refused to\nsell it, but offered to give it as a present, if the bride would grant\nher one favour--namely, to sleep one night on the mat outside the\nbridegroom's door. The bride gave her leave, because the dress was so\nbeautiful, and she had none like it.\n\nNow when it was evening, she said to her bridegroom: \"The foolish\nkitchen-maid wants to sleep on the mat outside your door.\"\n\n\"If you are content, I am,\" said he.\n\nBut the bride gave him a glass of wine, in which she had put a\nsleeping draught; so that he slept so soundly, nothing could wake him.\nWhile, outside the door, the princess wept the whole night, saying: \"I\nhave released you out of the wild wood--out of an Iron Stove; in\nseeking you, I have gone over a glass mountain, over three sharp\nswords, and over a great lake; yet, now that I find you, you will not\nhear me.\"\n\nNext evening, when she had washed up everything, she bit the second\nnut open; and inside it was a far more beautiful dress than the first\nwhich, when the bride saw, she wished to buy also. But the girl again\nrefused to take money and again begged that she might spend the night\noutside the bridegroom's door. Once more, the bride gave him a\nsleeping-draught, and he slept so soundly, that he could hear nothing.\nBut the kitchen-maid wept the whole night long, crying: \"I have\nreleased you out of a wild wood, and out of an Iron Stove; and have\ngone over a glass mountain, over three sharp swords, and over a great\nlake, before I found you; and yet, when I find you, you will not hear\nme.\"\n\nThe third evening, she bit open the third nut; and there was in it a\nstill more beautiful dress, which shone stiff with pure gold. When the\nbride saw it, she wished more earnestly than ever to have it; but the\nkitchen-maid would only give it to her on condition that she might\nsleep, for the third time, on the mat at the bridegroom's door. But\nthis time the prince was cautious, and left the sleeping-draught\nuntouched. Now, when she began to weep, and to call out, \"Dearest\ntreasure, I have released you out of the horrible wild wood, and out\nof an Iron Stove,\" the king's son sprang up, crying out: \"This is my\nright true love--she is mine, and I am hers.\" Then he declared he\nwould not marry the other bride, whom he did not love; and so, still\nin the middle of the night, he got into a carriage with the\nkitchen-maid, and drove away.\n\nWhen they came to the great lake, they sailed over; and at the three\nsharp swords, they seated themselves on the plough-wheel; and at the\nglass mountain, they found the three needles, and stuck them in step\nby step. So they came at last to the little old house; but, as they\nwent in, lo! it changed to a great castle; the frogs turned to\nprinces and princesses, all kings' children, and received them both\nwith great joy. There the wedding was celebrated, and they remained in\nthe castle, which was much larger than that which belonged to the\nprincess's father. But as the old man lamented very much his\ndaughter's loss, and his own loneliness, they soon went and fetched\nhim home to themselves. So they had two kingdoms, instead of one, and\nlived happily together all their days.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INVISIBLE PRINCE.\n\n\nThere was a king and queen who were dotingly fond of their only son,\nnotwithstanding that he was equally deformed in mind and person. The\nking was quite sensible of the evil disposition of his son, but the\nqueen, in her excessive fondness, saw no fault whatever in her dear\nFuribon, as he was named. The surest way to win her favour was to\npraise Furibon for charms he did not possess. When he came of age to\nhave a governor, the king made choice of a prince who had an ancient\nright to the crown, but was not able to support it. This prince had a\nson, named Leander, handsome, accomplished, amiable--in every respect\nthe opposite of Prince Furibon. The two were frequently together,\nwhich only made the deformed prince more repulsive.\n\nOne day, certain ambassadors having arrived from a far country, the\nprinces stood in a gallery to see them; when, taking Leander for the\nking's son, they made their obeisance to him, treating Furibon as a\nmere dwarf, at which the latter was so offended that he drew his\nsword, and would have done them a mischief had not the king just then\nappeared. As it was, the affair produced a quarrel, which ended in\nLeander's being sent to a far-away castle belonging to his father.\n\nThere, however, he was quite happy, for he was a great lover of\nhunting, fishing, and walking: he understood painting, read much, and\nplayed upon several instruments; so that he was glad to be freed from\nthe fantastic humours of Furibon. One day as he was walking in the\ngarden, finding the heat increase, he retired into a shady grove, and\nbegan to play upon the flute to amuse himself. As he played, he felt\nsomething wind about his leg, and looking down saw a great adder: he\ntook his handkerchief, and catching it by the head, was going to kill\nit. But the adder, looking steadfastly in his face, seemed to beg his\npardon. At this instant one of the gardeners happened to come to the\nplace where Leander was, and spying the snake, cried out to his\nmaster, \"Hold him fast, sir; it is but an hour since we ran after him\nto kill him: it is the most mischievous creature in the world.\"\n\nLeander, casting his eyes a second time upon the snake, which was\nspeckled with a thousand extraordinary colours, perceived the poor\ncreature still looked upon him with an aspect that seemed to implore\ncompassion, and never tried in the least to defend itself.\n\n\"Though thou hast such a mind to kill it,\" said he to the gardener,\n\"yet, as it came to me for refuge, I forbid thee to do it any harm;\nfor I will keep it, and when it has cast its beautiful skin I will let\nit go.\" He then returned home, and carrying the snake with him, put it\ninto a large chamber, the key of which he kept himself, and ordered\nbran, milk, and flowers to be given to it, for its delight and\nsustenance; so that never was snake so happy. Leander went sometimes\nto see it, and when it perceived him it made haste to meet him,\nshowing him all the little marks of love and gratitude of which a poor\nsnake was capable, which did not a little surprise him, though,\nhowever, he took no further notice of it.\n\nIn the meantime all the court ladies were extremely troubled at his\nabsence, and he was the subject of all their discourse. \"Alas!\" cried\nthey, \"there is no pleasure at court since Leander is gone, of whose\nabsence the wicked Furibon is the cause!\" Furibon also had his\nparasites, for his power over the queen made him feared; they told him\nwhat the ladies said, which enraged him to such a degree that in his\npassion he flew to the queen's chamber, and vowed he would kill\nhimself before her face if she did not find means to destroy Leander.\nThe queen, who also hated Leander, because he was handsomer than her\nson, replied that she had long looked upon him as a traitor, and\ntherefore would willingly consent to his death. To which purpose she\nadvised Furibon to go a-hunting with some of his confidants, and\ncontrive it so that Leander should make one of the party.\n\n\"Then,\" said she, \"you may find some way to punish him for pleasing\neverybody.\"\n\nFuribon understood her, and accordingly went a-hunting; and Leander,\nwhen he heard the horns and the hounds, mounted his horse, and rode to\nsee who it was. But he was surprised to meet the prince so\nunexpectedly: he alighted immediately, and saluted him with respect;\nand Furibon received him more graciously than usual, and bade him\nfollow him. All of a sudden he turned his horse, and rode another way,\nmaking a sign to the ruffians to take the first opportunity to kill\nhim; but before he had got quite out of sight, a lion of prodigious\nsize, coming out of his den, leaped upon Furibon: all his followers\nfled, and only Leander remained; who, attacking the animal sword in\nhand, by his valour and agility saved the life of his most cruel\nenemy, who had fallen in a swoon from fear. When he recovered, Leander\npresented him his horse to remount. Now, any other than such a wretch\nwould have been grateful: but Furibon did not even look upon him: nay,\nmounting the horse, he rode in quest of the ruffians, to whom he\nrepeated his orders to kill him. They accordingly surrounded Leander,\nwho, setting his back to a tree, behaved with so much bravery, that he\nlaid them all dead at his feet. Furibon, believing him by this time\nslain, rode eagerly up to the spot. When Leander saw him, he advanced\nto meet him. \"Sir,\" said he, \"if it was by your order that these\nassassins came to kill me, I am sorry I made any defence.\"\n\n\"You are an insolent villain!\" replied Furibon, \"and if ever you come\ninto my presence again, you shall surely die.\"\n\nLeander made no answer, but retired sad and pensive to his own home,\nwhere he spent the night in pondering what was best for him to do,\nfor there was no likelihood he should be able to defend himself\nagainst the power of the king's son; therefore he at length concluded\nhe would travel abroad and see the world. Being ready to depart, he\nrecollected his snake, and, calling for some milk and fruits, carried\nthem to the poor creature for the last time; but on opening the door\nhe perceived an extraordinary lustre in one corner of the room, and\ncasting his eye on the place he was surprised to see a lady, whose\nnoble and majestic air made him immediately conclude she was a\nprincess of royal birth. Her habit was of purple satin, embroidered\nwith pearls and diamonds; and advancing towards him with a gracious\nsmile--\n\n\"Young prince,\" said she, \"you find no longer your pet snake, but me,\nthe Fairy Gentilla, ready to requite your generosity. For know, that\nwe fairies live a hundred years in flourishing youth, without\ndiseases, without trouble or pain; and this term being expired, we\nbecome snakes for eight days. During that time it is not in our power\nto prevent any misfortune that may befall us; and if we happen to be\nkilled, we never revive again. But these eight days being expired, we\nresume our usual form, and recover our beauty, our power, and our\nriches. Now you know how much I am obliged to your goodness, and it is\nbut just that I should repay my debt of gratitude: think how I can\nserve you and depend on me.\"\n\nThe young prince, who had never conversed with a fairy till now, was\nso surprised that it was a long time before he could speak. But at\nlength, making a profound reverence, \"Madam,\" said he, \"since I have\nhad the honour to serve you, I know not any other happiness that I can\nwish for.\"\n\n\"I should be sorry,\" replied she, \"not to be of service to you in\nsomething; consider, it is in my power to bestow on you long life,\nkingdoms, riches: to give you mines of diamonds, and houses full of\ngold; I can make you an excellent orator, poet, musician, and painter;\nor, if you desire it, a spirit of the air, the water, or the earth.\"\n\nHere Leander interrupted her: \"Permit me, madam,\" said he, \"to ask you\nwhat benefit it would be to me to be a spirit?\"\n\n\"Much,\" replied the fairy; \"you would be invisible when you pleased,\nand might in an instant traverse the whole earth; you would be able to\nfly without wings, to descend into the abyss of the earth without\ndying, and walk at the bottom of the sea without being drowned; nor\ndoors, nor windows, though fast shut and locked, could hinder you from\nentering anywhere; and whenever you had a mind, you might resume your\nnatural form.\"\n\n\"Oh, madam!\" cried Leander, \"then let me be a spirit; I am going to\ntravel, and should prefer it above all those other advantages you have\nso generously offered me.\"\n\nGentilla thereupon stroking his face three times, \"Be a spirit,\" said\nshe; and then, embracing him, she gave him a little red cap with a\nplume of feathers. \"When you put on this cap, you shall be invisible;\nbut when you take it off, you shall again become visible.\"\n\nLeander, overjoyed, put his little red cap upon his head, and wished\nhimself in the forest, that he might gather some wild roses which he\nhad observed there: his body immediately became as light as thought;\nhe flew through the window like a bird; though, in flying over the\nriver, he was not without fear, lest he should fall into it, and the\npower of the fairy not be able to save him. But he arrived in safety\nat the rose-bushes, plucked three roses, and returned immediately to\nhis chamber; presented his roses to the fairy, overjoyed that his\nfirst experiment had succeeded so well. She bade him keep the roses,\nfor that one of them would supply him with money whenever he wanted\nit; that if he put the other into his mistress's bosom, he would know\nwhether she was faithful or not; and that the third would keep him\nalways in good health. Then, without staying to receive his thanks,\nshe wished him success in his travels and disappeared.\n\nLeander, infinitely pleased, settled his affairs, mounted the finest\nhorse in the stable, called Gris-de-line, and attended by some of his\nservants in livery, made his return to court. Now you must know\nFuribon had given out, that had it not been for his courage Leander\nwould have murdered him when they were a-hunting; so the king, being\nimportuned by the queen, gave orders that Leander should be\napprehended. But when he came, he showed so much courage and\nresolution that Furibon ran to the queen's chamber, and prayed her to\norder him to be seized. The queen, who was extremely diligent in\neverything that her son desired, went immediately to the king.\nFuribon, being impatient to know what would be resolved, followed her;\nbut stopped at the door, and laid his ear to the keyhole, putting his\nhair aside that he might the better hear what was said. At the same\ntime, Leander entered the court-hall of the palace with his red cap\nupon his head, and perceiving Furibon listening at the door of the\nking's chamber, he took a nail and a hammer, and nailed his ear to the\ndoor. Furibon began to roar, so that the queen, hearing her son's\nvoice, ran and opened the door, and, pulling it hastily, tore her\nson's ear from his head. Half out of her wits, she set him in her lap,\ntook up his ear, kissed it, and clapped it again upon its place; but\nthe invisible Leander, seizing upon a handful of twigs, with which\nthey corrected the king's little dogs, gave the queen several lashes\nupon her hands, and her son as many on the nose: upon which the queen\ncried out, \"Murder! murder!\" and the king looked about, and the people\ncame running in; but nothing was to be seen. Some cried that the queen\nwas mad, and that her madness proceeded from her grief to see that her\nson had lost one ear; and the king was as ready as any to believe it,\nso that when she came near him he avoided her, which made a very\nridiculous scene. Leander, then leaving the chamber, went into the\ngarden, and there, assuming his own shape, he boldly began to pluck\nthe queen's cherries, apricots, strawberries, and flowers, though he\nknew she set such a high value on them, that it was as much as a man's\nlife was worth to touch one. The gardeners, all amazed, came and told\ntheir majesties that Prince Leander was making havoc of all the fruits\nand flowers in the queen's garden.\n\n\"What insolence!\" said the queen: then turning to Furibon, \"My pretty\nchild, forget the pain of thy ear but for a moment, and fetch that\nvile wretch hither; take our guards, both horse and foot, seize him,\nand punish him as he deserves.\"\n\nFuribon, encouraged by his mother, and attended by a great number of\narmed soldiers, entered the garden, and saw Leander; who, taking\nrefuge under a tree, pelted them all with oranges. But when they came\nrunning towards him, thinking to have seized him, he was not to be\nseen; he had slipped behind Furibon, who was in a bad condition\nalready. But Leander played him one trick more; for he pushed him down\nupon the gravel-walk, and frightened him so that the soldiers had to\ntake him up, carry him away, and put him to bed.\n\nSatisfied with this revenge, he returned to his servants, who waited\nfor him, and giving them money, sent them back to his castle, that\nnone might know the secret of his red cap and roses. As yet he had not\ndetermined whither to go; however, he mounted his fine horse\nGris-de-line, and, laying the reins upon his neck, let him take his\nown road: at length he arrived in a forest, where he stopped to\nshelter himself from the heat. He had not been above a minute there\nbefore he heard a lamentable noise of sighing and sobbing; and looking\nabout him, beheld a man, who ran, stopped, then ran again, sometimes\ncrying, sometimes silent, then tearing his hair, then thumping his\nbreast like some unfortunate madman. Yet he seemed to be both handsome\nand young: his garments had been magnificent, but he had torn them all\nto tatters. The prince, moved with compassion, made towards him, and\nmildly accosted him: \"Sir,\" said he, \"your condition appears so\ndeplorable, that I must ask the cause of your sorrow, assuring you of\nevery assistance in my power.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" answered the young man, \"nothing can cure my grief; this\nday my dear mistress is to be sacrificed to a rich old ruffian of a\nhusband who will make her miserable.\"\n\n\"Does she love you then?\" asked Leander.\n\n\"I flatter myself so,\" answered the young man.\n\n\"Where is she?\" continued Leander.\n\n\"In a castle at the end of this forest,\" replied the lover.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Leander; \"stay you here till I come again, and in a\nlittle while I will bring you good news.\"\n\nHe then put on his little red cap, and wished himself in the castle.\nHe had hardly got thither before he heard all sorts of music; he\nentered into a great room, where the friends and kindred of the old\nman and the young lady were assembled. No one could look more amiable\nthan she; but the paleness of her complexion, the melancholy that\nappeared in her countenance, and the tears that now and then dropped,\nas it were by stealth, from her eyes, betrayed the trouble of her\nmind.\n\nLeander now became invisible, and placed himself in a corner of the\nroom. He soon perceived the father and mother of the bride; and coming\nbehind the mother's chair, whispered in her ear, \"If you marry your\ndaughter to that old dotard, before eight days are over you shall\ncertainly die.\" The woman, frightened to hear such a terrible sentence\npronounced upon her, and yet not know from whence it came, gave a loud\nshriek, and dropped upon the floor. Her husband asked what ailed her:\nshe cried that she was a dead woman if the marriage of her daughter\nwent forward, and therefore she would not consent to it for all the\nworld. Her husband laughed at her, and called her a fool. But the\ninvisible Leander accosting the man, threatened him in the same way,\nwhich frightened him so terribly, that he also insisted on the\nmarriage being broken off. When the lover complained, Leander trod\nhard upon his gouty toes, and rang such an alarum in his ears, that,\nnot being able any longer to hear himself speak, away he limped, glad\nenough to go. The real lover soon appeared, and he and his fair\nmistress fell joyfully into one another's arms, the parents consenting\nto their union. Leander, assuming his own shape, appeared at the\nhall-door, as if he were a stranger drawn thither by the report of\nthis extraordinary wedding.\n\nFrom hence he travelled on, and came to a great city, where, upon his\narrival, he understood there was a great and solemn procession, in\norder to shut up a young woman, against her will, among the vestal\nnuns. The prince was touched with compassion; and thinking the best\nuse he could make of his cap was to redress public wrongs and relieve\nthe oppressed, he flew to the temple, where he saw the young woman,\ncrowned with flowers, clad in white, and with her dishevelled hair\nflowing about her shoulders. Two of her brothers led her by each hand,\nand her mother followed her with a great crowd of men and women.\nLeander, being invisible, cried out, \"Stop, stop, wicked brethren:\nstop, rash and inconsiderate mother; if you proceed any further, you\nshall be squeezed to death like so many frogs.\" They looked about, but\ncould not conceive from whence these terrible menaces came. The\nbrothers said it was only their sister's lover, who had hid himself in\nsome hole; at which Leander, in wrath, took a long cudgel, and they\nhad no reason to say the blows were not well laid on. The multitude\nfled, the vestals ran away, and Leander was left alone with the\nvictim; immediately he pulled off his red cap, and asked her wherein\nhe might serve her. She answered him, that there was a certain\ngentleman whom she would be glad to marry, but that he wanted an\nestate. Leander then shook his rose so long, that he supplied them\nwith ten millions; after which they married, and lived happily\ntogether.\n\nBut his last adventure was the most agreeable. Entering into a wide\nforest, he heard lamentable cries. Looking about him every way, at\nlength he spied four men well armed, who were carrying away by force a\nyoung lady, thirteen or fourteen years of age; upon which, making up\nto them as fast as he could, \"What harm has that girl done?\" said he.\n\n\"Ha, ha! my little master,\" cried he who seemed to be the ringleader\nof the rest, \"who bade you inquire?\"\n\n\"Let her alone,\" said Leander, \"and go about your business.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, to be sure,\" cried they, laughing; whereupon the prince\nalighting, put on his red cap, not thinking it otherwise prudent to\nattack four who seemed strong enough to fight a dozen. One of them\nstayed to take care of the young lady, while the three others went\nafter Gris-de-line, who gave them a great deal of unwelcome exercise.\n\nMeantime the young lady continued her cries and complaints: \"Oh my\ndear princess,\" said she, \"how happy was I in your palace! Did you but\nknow my sad misfortune, you would send your Amazons to rescue poor\nAbricotina.\"\n\nLeander, having listened to what she said, without delay seized the\nruffian that held her, and bound him fast to a tree, before he had\ntime or strength to defend himself. He then went to the second, and\ntaking him by both arms, bound him in the same manner to another\ntree. In the meantime Abricotina made the best of her good fortune,\nand betook herself to her heels, not knowing which way she went. But\nLeander, missing her, called out to his horse Gris-de-line; who, by\ntwo kicks with his hoof, rid himself of the two ruffians who had\npursued him: one of them had his head broken; and the other, three of\nhis ribs. And now Leander only wanted to overtake Abricotina; for he\nhad thought her so handsome that he wished to see her again. He found\nher leaning against a tree. When she saw Gris-de-line coming towards\nher, \"How lucky am I!\" cried she; \"this pretty little horse will carry\nme to the Palace of Pleasure.\" Leander heard her, though she saw him\nnot: he rode up to her; Gris-de-line stopped, and when Abricotina\nmounted him, Leander clasped her in his arms, and placed her gently\nbefore him. Oh, how great was Abricotina's fear to feel herself fast\nembraced, and yet see nobody! She durst not stir, and shut her eyes\nfor fear of seeing a spirit. But Leander took off his little cap: \"How\ncomes it, fair Abricotina,\" said he, \"that you are afraid of me, who\ndelivered you out of the hands of the ruffians?\"\n\nWith that she opened her eyes, and knowing him again, \"Oh sir,\" said\nshe, \"I am infinitely obliged to you; but I was afraid, for I felt\nmyself held fast, and could see no one.\"\n\n\"Surely,\" replied Leander, \"the danger you have been in has disturbed\nyou, and cast a mist before your eyes.\"\n\nAbricotina would not seem to doubt him, though she was otherwise\nextremely sensible. And after they had talked for some time of\nindifferent things, Leander requested her to tell him her age, her\ncountry, and by what accident she fell into the hands of the ruffians.\n\n\"Know then, sir,\" said she, \"there was a certain very great fairy\nmarried to a prince who wearied of her; she therefore banished him\nfrom her presence, and established herself and daughter in the Island\nof Calm Delights. The princess, who is my mistress, being very fair,\nhas many lovers--among others, one named Furibon, whom she detests: he\nit was whose ruffians seized me to-day when I was wandering in search\nof a stray parrot. Accept, noble prince, my best thanks for your\nvalour, which I shall never forget.\"\n\nLeander said how happy he was to have served her, and asked if he\ncould not obtain admission into the island. Abricotina assured him\nthis was impossible, and therefore he had better forget all about it.\nWhile they were thus conversing, they came to the bank of a large\nriver: Abricotina alighting with a nimble jump from the horse--\n\n\"Farewell, sir,\" said she to the prince, making a profound reverence,\n\"I wish you every happiness.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said Leander, \"wish that I may now and then have a small\nshare in your remembrance.\"\n\nSo saying, he galloped away, and soon entered into the thickest part\nof a wood, near a river where he unbridled and unsaddled Gris-de-line;\nthen, putting on his little cap, wished himself in the Island of Calm\nDelights, and his wish was immediately accomplished.\n\nThe palace was of pure gold, and stood upon pillars of crystal and\nprecious stones, which represented the zodiac, and all the wonders of\nnature; all the arts and sciences; the sea, with all the variety of\nfish therein contained; the earth, with all the various creatures\nwhich it produces; the chases of Diana and her nymphs; the noble\nexercises of the Amazons; the amusements of a country life; flocks of\nsheep with their shepherds and dogs; the toils of agriculture,\nharvesting, gardening. And among all this variety of representations,\nthere was neither man nor boy to be seen--not so much as a little\nwinged Cupid: so highly had the princess been incensed against her\ninconstant husband, as not to show the least favour to his fickle sex.\n\n\"Abricotina did not deceive me,\" said Leander to himself; \"they have\nbanished from hence the very idea of men; now let us see what they\nhave lost by it.\" With that he entered into the palace, and at every\nstep he took, he met with objects so wonderful, that when he had once\nfixed his eyes upon them he had much ado to take them off again. He\nviewed a vast number of these apartments, some full of china, no less\nfine than curious; others lined with porcelain, so delicate, that the\nwalls were quite transparent. Coral jasper, agates, and cornelians\nadorned the rooms of state, and the presence-chamber was one entire\nmirror. The throne was one single pearl, hollowed like a shell; the\nprincess sat, surrounded by her maidens, none of whom could compare\nwith herself. In her was all the innocent sweetness of youth, joined\nto the dignity of maturity; in truth, she was perfection; and so\nthought the invisible Leander.\n\nNot seeing Abricotina, she asked where she was. Upon that, Leander,\nbeing very desirous to speak, assumed the tone of a parrot, for there\nwere many in the room; and addressing himself invisibly to the\nprincess,--\n\n\"Most charming princess,\" said he, \"Abricotina will return\nimmediately. She was in great danger of being carried away from this\npalace, but for a young prince who rescued her.\"\n\nThe princess was surprised at the parrot, his answer was so extremely\npertinent:\n\n\"You are very rude, little parrot,\" said the princess; \"and\nAbricotina, when she comes, shall chastise you for it.\"\n\n\"I shall not be chastised,\" answered Leander, still counterfeiting the\nparrot's voice; \"moreover, she will let you know the great desire that\nstranger had to be admitted into this palace, that he might convince\nyou of the falsehood of those ideas which you have conceived against\nhis sex.\"\n\n\"In truth, pretty parrot,\" cried the princess, \"it is a pity you are\nnot every day so diverting I should love you dearly.\"\n\n\"Ah! if prattling will please you, princess,\" replied Leander, \"I\nwill prate from morning till night.\"\n\n\"But,\" continued the princess, \"how shall I be sure my parrot is not a\nsorcerer?\"\n\n\"He is more in love than any sorcerer can be,\" replied the prince.\n\nAt this moment Abricotina entered the room, and falling at her lovely\nmistress's feet, gave her a full account of what had befallen her, and\ndescribed the prince in the most glowing colours.\n\n\"I should have hated all men,\" added she, \"had I not seen him! Oh,\nmadam, how charming he is! His air and all his behaviour have\nsomething in them so noble; and though whatever he spoke was\ninfinitely pleasing, yet I think I did well in not bringing him\nhither.\"\n\nTo this the princess said nothing, but she asked Abricotina a hundred\nother questions concerning the prince; whether she knew his name, his\ncountry, his birth, from whence he came, and whither he was going; and\nafter this she fell into a profound thoughtfulness.\n\nLeander observed everything, and continued to chatter as he had\nbegun--\n\n\"Abricotina is ungrateful, madam,\" said he; \"that poor stranger will\ndie for grief if he sees you not.\"\n\n\"Well, parrot, let him die,\" answered the princess, with a sigh; \"and\nsince thou undertakest to reason like a person of wit, and not like a\nlittle bird, I forbid thee to talk to me any more of this unknown\nperson.\"\n\nLeander was overjoyed to find that Abricotina's and the parrot's\ndiscourse had made such an impression on the princess. He looked upon\nher with pleasure and delight. \"Can it be,\" said he to himself, \"that\nthe masterpiece of nature, that the wonder of our age, should be\nconfined eternally in an island, and no mortal dare to approach her?\nBut,\" continued he, \"wherefore am I concerned that others are banished\nhence, since I have the happiness to be with her, to see her, to hear\nand to admire her; nay more, to love her above all the women in the\nuniverse?\"\n\nIt was late, and the princess retired into a large room of marble and\nporphyry, where several bubbling fountains refreshed the air with an\nagreeable coolness. As soon as she entered, the music began, a\nsumptuous supper was served up, and the birds from several aviaries on\neach side of the room, of which Abricotina had the chief care, opened\ntheir little throats in the most agreeable manner.\n\nLeander had travelled a journey long enough to give him a good\nappetite, which made him draw near the table, where the very smell of\nsuch viands was agreeable and refreshing. The princess had a curious\ntabby-cat, for which she had a great kindness. This cat one of the\nmaids of honour held in her arms, saying, \"Madam, Bluet is hungry!\"\nWith that a chair was presently brought for the cat; for he was a cat\nof quality, and had a necklace of pearl about his neck. He was served\non a gold plate, with a laced napkin before him; and the plate being\nsupplied with meat, Bluet sat with the solemn importance of an\nalderman.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" cried Leander to himself; \"an idle tabby malkin, that\nperhaps never caught a mouse in his life, and I dare say is not\ndescended from a better family than myself, has the honour to sit at\ntable with my mistress: I would fain know whether he loves her so well\nas I do.\"\n\nSaying this, he placed himself in the chair with the cat upon his\nknee, for nobody saw him, because he had his little red cap on;\nfinding Bluet's plate well supplied with partridge, quails, and\npheasants, he made so free with them, that whatever was set before\nmaster puss disappeared in a trice. The whole court said no cat ever\nate with a better appetite. There were excellent ragouts, and the\nprince made use of the cat's paw to taste them; but he sometimes\npulled his paw too roughly, and Bluet, not understanding raillery,\nbegan to mew and be quite out of patience. The princess observing it,\n\"Bring that fricassee and that tart to poor Bluet,\" said she; \"see how\nhe cries to have them.\"\n\nLeander laughed to himself at the pleasantness of this adventure; but\nhe was very thirsty, not being accustomed to make such large meals\nwithout drinking. By the help of the cat's paw, he got a melon, with\nwhich he somewhat quenched his thirst; and when supper was quite over,\nhe went to the beaufet, and took two bottles of delicious wine.\n\nThe princess now retired into her boudoir, ordering Abricotina to\nfollow her and make fast the door; but they could not keep out\nLeander, who was there as soon as they. However, the princess,\nbelieving herself alone with her confidante--\n\n\"Abricotina,\" said she, \"tell me truly, did you exaggerate in your\ndescription of the unknown prince, for methinks it is impossible he\nshould be as amiable as you say?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the damsel, \"if I have failed in anything, it was in\ncoming short of what was due to him.\"\n\nThe princess sighed, and was silent for a time; then resuming her\nspeech: \"I am glad,\" said she, \"thou didst not bring him with thee.\"\n\n\"But, madam,\" answered Abricotina, who was a cunning girl, and already\npenetrated her mistress's thoughts, \"suppose he had come to admire the\nwonders of these beautiful mansions, what harm could he have done us?\nWill you live eternally unknown in a corner of the world, concealed\nfrom the rest of human kind? Of what use is all your grandeur, pomp,\nmagnificence, if nobody sees it?\"\n\n\"Hold thy peace, prattler,\" replied the princess, \"and do not disturb\nthat happy repose which I have enjoyed so long.\"\n\nAbricotina durst make no reply; and the princess, having waited her\nanswer for some time, asked her whether she had anything to say.\nAbricotina then said she thought it was to very little purpose her\nmistress having sent her picture to the courts of several princes,\nwhere it only served to make those who saw it miserable; that every\none would be desirous to marry her, and as she could not marry them\nall, indeed none of them, it would make them desperate.\n\n\"Yet, for all that,\" said the princess, \"I could wish my picture were\nin the hands of this same stranger.\"\n\n\"Oh, madam,\" answered Abricotina, \"is not his desire to see you\nviolent enough already; would you augment it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried the princess; \"a certain impulse of vanity, which I was\nnever sensible of till now, has bred this foolish fancy in me.\"\n\nLeander heard all this discourse, and lost not a tittle of what she\nsaid; some of her expressions gave him hope, others absolutely\ndestroyed it. The princess presently asked Abricotina whether she had\nseen anything extraordinary during her short travels?\n\n\"Madam,\" said she, \"I passed through one forest where I saw certain\ncreatures that resembled little children: they skip and dance upon the\ntrees like squirrels; they are very ugly, but have wonderful agility\nand address.\"\n\n\"I wish I had one of them,\" said the princess; \"but if they are so\nnimble as you say they are, it is impossible to catch one.\"\n\nLeander, who passed through the same forest, knew what Abricotina\nmeant, and presently wished himself in the place. He caught a dozen of\nlittle monkeys, some bigger, some less, and all of different colours,\nand with much ado put them into a large sack; then, wishing himself at\nParis, where, he had heard, a man might have everything for money, he\nwent and bought a little gold chariot. He taught six green monkeys to\ndraw it; they were harnessed with fine traces of flame-coloured\nmorocco leather. He went to another place, where he met with two\nmonkeys of merit, the most pleasant of which was called Briscambril,\nthe other Pierceforest--both very spruce and well educated. He dressed\nBriscambril like a king, and placed him in the coach; Pierceforest he\nmade the coachman; the others were dressed like pages; all which he\nput into his sack, coach and all.\n\nThe princess not being gone to bed, heard a rumbling of a little coach\nin the long gallery; at the same time, her ladies came to tell her\nthat the king of the dwarfs was arrived, and the chariot immediately\nentered her chamber with all the monkey train. The country monkeys\nbegan to show a thousand tricks, which far surpassed those of\nBriscambril and Pierceforest. To say the truth, Leander conducted the\nwhole machine. He drew the chariot where Briscambril sat arrayed as a\nking, and making him hold a box of diamonds in his hand, he presented\nit with a becoming grace to the princess. The princess's surprise may\nbe easily imagined. Moreover, Briscambril made a sign for Pierceforest\nto come and dance with him. The most celebrated dancers were not to be\ncompared with them in activity. But the princess, troubled that she\ncould not guess from whence this curious present came, dismissed the\ndancers sooner than she would otherwise have done, though she was\nextremely pleased with them.\n\nLeander, satisfied with having seen the delight the princess had taken\nin beholding the monkeys, thought of nothing now but to get a little\nrepose, which he greatly wanted. He stayed some time in the great\ngallery; afterwards, going down a pair of stairs, and finding a door\nopen, he entered into an apartment the most delightful that ever was\nseen. There was in it a bed of cloth of gold, enriched with pearls,\nintermixed with rubies and emeralds; for by this time there appeared\ndaylight sufficient for him to view and admire the magnificence of\nthis sumptuous furniture. Having made fast the door, he composed\nhimself to sleep. Next day he rose very early, and looking about on\nevery side, he spied a painter's pallet, with colours ready prepared\nand pencils. Remembering what the princess had said to Abricotina\ntouching her own portrait, he immediately (for he could paint as well\nas the most excellent masters) seated himself before a mirror, and\ndrew his own picture first; then, in an oval, that of the princess. He\nhad all her features so strong in his imagination, that he had no\noccasion for her sitting; and as his desire to please her had set him\nto work, never did portrait bear a stronger resemblance. He had\npainted himself upon one knee, holding the princess's picture in one\nhand, and in the other a label with this inscription--\"She is better\nin my heart.\" When the princess went into her cabinet, she was amazed\nto see the portrait of a man; and she fixed her eyes upon it with so\nmuch the more surprise, because she also saw her own with it, and\nbecause the words which were written upon the label afforded her ample\nroom for curiosity She persuaded herself that it was Abricotina's\ndoing; and all she desired to know was, whether the portrait were real\nor imaginary. Rising in haste, she called Abricotina, while the\ninvisible Leander, with his little red cap, slipped into the cabinet,\nimpatient to know what passed. The princess bid Abricotina look upon\nthe picture, and tell her what she thought of it.\n\nAfter she had viewed it, \"I protest,\" said she, \"'tis the picture of\nthat generous stranger to whom I am indebted for my life. Yes, yes, I\nam sure it is he; his very features, shape, and hair.\"\n\n\"Thou pretendest surprise,\" said the princess, \"but I know it was thou\nthyself who put it there.\"\n\n\"Who! I, madam?\" replied Abricotina; \"I protest, I never saw the\npicture before in my life. Should I be so bold as to conceal from your\nknowledge a thing that so nearly concerns you? And by what miracle\ncould I come by it? I never could paint, nor did any man ever enter\nthis place; yet here he is painted with you.\"\n\n\"Some spirit, then, must have brought it hither,\" cried the princess.\n\n\"How I tremble for fear, madam!\" said Abricotina. \"Was it not rather\nsome lover? And therefore, if you will take my advice, let us burn it\nimmediately.\"\n\n\"'Twere a pity to burn it,\" cried the princess, sighing; \"a finer\npiece, methinks, cannot adorn my cabinet.\" And saying these words, she\ncast her eyes upon it. But Abricotina continued obstinate in her\nopinion that it ought to be burnt, as a thing that could not come\nthere but by the power of magic.\n\n\"And these words--'She is better in my heart,'\" said the princess;\n\"must we burn them too?\"\n\n\"No favour must be shown to anything,\" said Abricotina, \"not even to\nyour own portrait.\"\n\nAbricotina ran away immediately for some fire, while the princess went\nto look out at the window. Leander, unwilling to let his performance\nbe burnt, took this opportunity to convey it away without being\nperceived. He had hardly quitted the cabinet, when the princess turned\nabout to look once more upon that enchanting picture, which had so\ndelighted her. But how was she surprised to find it gone! She sought\nfor it all the room over; and Abricotina returning, was no less\nsurprised than her mistress; so that this last adventure put them both\nin the most terrible fright.\n\nLeander took great delight in hearing and seeing his incomparable\nmistress; even though he had to eat every day at her table with the\ntabby-cat, who fared never the worse for that; but his satisfaction\nwas far from being complete, seeing he durst neither speak nor show\nhimself; and he knew it was not a common thing for ladies to fall in\nlove with persons invisible.\n\nThe princess had a universal taste for amusement. One day, she was\nsaying to her attendants that it would give her great pleasure to know\nhow the ladies were dressed in all the courts of the universe. There\nneeded no more words to send Leander all over the world. He wished\nhimself in China, where he bought the richest stuffs he could lay his\nhands on, and got patterns of all the court fashions. From thence he\nflew to Siam, where he did the same; in three days he travelled over\nall the four parts of the world, and, from time to time, brought what\nhe bought to the Palace of Calm Delights, and hid it all in a chamber,\nwhich he kept always locked. When he had thus collected together all\nthe rarities he could meet with--for he never wanted money, his rose\nalways supplying him--he went and bought five or six dozen of dolls,\nwhich he caused to be dressed at Paris, the place in the world where\nmost regard is paid to fashions. They were all dressed differently,\nand as magnificent as could be, and Leander placed them all in the\nprincess's closet. When she entered it, she was agreeably surprised to\nsee such a company of little mutes, every one decked with watches,\nbracelets, diamond buckles, or necklaces; and the most remarkable of\nthem held a picture-box in its hand, which the princess opening, found\nit contained Leander's portrait. She gave a loud shriek, and looking\nupon Abricotina, \"There have appeared of late,\" said she, \"so many\nwonders in this place, that I know not what to think of them:--my\nbirds are all grown witty; I cannot so much as wish, but presently I\nhave my desires; twice have I now seen the portrait of him who rescued\nthee from the ruffians; and here are silks of all sorts, diamonds,\nembroideries, laces, and an infinite number of other rarities. What\nfairy is it that takes such care to pay me these agreeable\ncivilities?\"\n\nLeander was overjoyed to hear and see her so much interested about his\npicture, and calling to mind that there was in a grotto which she\noften frequented a certain pedestal, on which a Diana, not yet\nfinished, was to be erected, on this pedestal he resolved to place\nhimself, crowned with laurel, and holding a lyre in his hand, on which\nhe played like another Apollo. He most anxiously waited the princess's\nretiring to the grotto, which she did every day since her thoughts had\nbeen taken up with this unknown person; for what Abricotina had said,\njoined to the sight of the picture, had almost destroyed her repose:\nher lively humour changed into a pensive melancholy, and she grew a\ngreat lover of solitude. When she entered the grotto, she made a sign\nthat nobody should follow her, so that her young damsels dispersed\nthemselves into the neighbouring walks. The princess threw herself\nupon a bank of green turf, sighed, wept, and even talked, but so\nsoftly that Leander could not hear what she said. He had put his red\ncap on, that she might not see him at first; but having taken it off,\nshe beheld him standing on the pedestal. At first she took him for a\nreal statue, for he observed exactly the attitude in which he had\nplaced himself, without moving so much as a finger. She beheld with a\nkind of pleasure intermixed with fear, but pleasure soon dispelled her\nfear, and she continued to view the pleasing figure, which so exactly\nresembled life. The prince having tuned his lyre, began to play, at\nwhich the princess, greatly surprised, could not resist the fear that\nseized her; she grew pale, and fell into a swoon. Leander leaped from\nthe pedestal, and putting on his little red cap, that he might not be\nperceived, took the princess in his arms, and gave her all the\nassistance that his zeal and tenderness could inspire. At length she\nopened her charming eyes, and looked about in search of him, but she\ncould perceive nobody; yet she felt somebody who held her hands,\nkissed them, and bedewed them with his tears. It was a long time\nbefore she durst speak, and her spirits were in a confused agitation\nbetween fear and hope. She was afraid of the spirit, but loved the\nfigure of the unknown. At length she said: \"Courtly invisible, why are\nyou not the person I desire you should be?\" At these words, Leander\nwas going to declare himself, but durst not do it yet; \"For,\" thought\nhe, \"if I again affright the object I adore, and make her fear me, she\nwill not love me.\" This consideration caused him to keep silence.\n\nThe princess, then, believing herself alone, called Abricotina and\ntold her all the wonders of the animated statue; that it had played\ndivinely, and that the invisible person had greatly assisted her when\nshe lay in a swoon.\n\n\"What pity 'tis,\" said she, \"that this person should be so frightful,\nfor nothing can be more amiable or acceptable than his behaviour!\"\n\n\"Who told you, madam,\" answered Abricotina, \"that he is frightful? If\nhe is the youth who saved me, he is beautiful as Cupid himself.\"\n\n\"If Cupid and the unknown are the same,\" replied the princess,\nblushing, \"I could be content to love Cupid; but alas! how far am I\nfrom such a happiness! I love a mere shadow; and this fatal picture,\njoined to what thou hast told me, have inspired me with inclinations\nso contrary to the precepts which I received from my mother, that I am\ndaily afraid of being punished for them.\"\n\n\"Oh! madam,\" said Abricotina, interrupting her, \"have you not troubles\nenough already? Why should you anticipate afflictions which may never\ncome to pass?\"\n\nIt is easy to imagine what pleasure Leander took in this conversation.\n\nIn the meantime, the little Furibon, still enamoured of the princess\nwhom he had never seen, expected with impatience the return of the\nfour servants whom he had sent to the Island of Calm Delights. One of\nthem at last came back, and after he had given the prince a particular\naccount of what had passed, told him that the island was defended by\nAmazons, and that unless he sent a very powerful army, it would be\nimpossible to get into it. The king his father was dead, and Furibon\nwas now lord of all: disdaining, therefore, any repulse, he raised an\narmy of four hundred thousand men, and put himself at the head of\nthem, appearing like another Tom Thumb upon a war-horse. Now, when the\nAmazons perceived his mighty host, they gave the princess notice of\nit, who immediately despatched away her trusty Abricotina to the\nkingdom of the fairies, to beg her mother's instructions as to what\nshe should do to drive the little Furibon from her territories. But\nAbricotina found the fairy in an angry humour.\n\n\"Nothing that my daughter does,\" said she, \"escapes my knowledge. The\nPrince Leander is now in her palace; he loves her, and she has a\ntenderness for him. All my cares and precepts have not been able to\nguard her from the tyranny of love, and she is now under its fatal\ndominion. But it is the decree of destiny, and I must submit;\ntherefore, Abricotina, begone! nor let me hear a word more of a\ndaughter whose behaviour has so much displeased me.\"\n\nAbricotina returned with these ill tidings, whereat the princess was\nalmost distracted; and this was soon perceived by Leander, who was\nnear her, though she did not see him. He beheld her grief with the\ngreatest pain. However, he durst not then open his lips; but\nrecollecting that Furibon was exceedingly covetous, he thought that,\nby giving him a sum of money, he might perhaps prevail with him to\nretire. Thereupon, he dressed himself like an Amazon, and wished\nhimself in the forest, to catch his horse. He had no sooner called him\nthan Gris-de-line came leaping, prancing, and neighing for joy, for he\nwas grown quite weary of being so long absent from his dear master;\nbut when he beheld him dressed as a woman he hardly knew him. However,\nat the sound of his voice, he suffered the prince to mount, and they\nsoon arrived in the camp of Furibon, where they gave notice that a\nlady was come to speak with him from the Princess of Calm Delights.\nImmediately the little fellow put on his royal robes, and having\nplaced himself upon his throne, he looked like a great toad\ncounterfeiting a king.\n\nLeander harangued him, and told him that the princess, preferring a\nquiet and peaceable life to the fatigues of war, had sent to offer his\nmajesty as much money as he pleased to demand, provided he would\nsuffer her to continue in peace; but if he refused her proposal, she\nwould omit no means that might serve for her defence. Furibon replied\nthat he took pity on her, and would grant her the honour of his\nprotection; but that he demanded a hundred thousand thousand millions\nof pounds, and without which he would not return to his kingdom.\nLeander answered that such a vast sum would be too long a-counting,\nand therefore, if he would say how many rooms full he desired to have,\nthe princess was generous and rich enough to satisfy him. Furibon was\nastonished to hear that, instead of entreating, she would rather offer\nmore; and it came into his wicked mind to take all the money he could\nget, and then seize the Amazon and kill her, that she might never\nreturn to her mistress. He told Leander, therefore, that he would have\nthirty chambers of gold, all full to the ceiling. Leander, being\nconducted into the chambers, took his rose and shook it, till every\nroom was filled with all sorts of coin. Furibon was in an ecstasy, and\nthe more gold he saw the greater was his desire to get hold of the\nAmazon; so that when all the rooms were full, he commanded his guards\nto seize her, alleging she had brought him counterfeit money.\nImmediately Leander put on his little red cap and disappeared. The\nguards, believing that the lady had escaped, ran out and left Furibon\nalone; when Leander, availing himself of the opportunity, took the\ntyrant by the hair, and twisted his head off with the same ease he\nwould a pullet's; nor did the little wretch of a king see the hand\nthat killed him.\n\nLeander having got his enemy's head, wished himself in the Palace of\nCalm Delights, where he found the princess walking, and with grief\nconsidering the message which her mother had sent her, and on the\nmeans to repel Furibon. Suddenly she beheld a head hanging in the air,\nwith nobody to hold it. This prodigy astonished her so, that she could\nnot tell what to think of it; but her amazement was increased when she\nsaw the head laid at her feet, and heard a voice utter these words:\n\n    \"Charming princess, cease your fear\n    Of Furibon; whose head see here.\"\n\nAbricotina, knowing Leander's voice, cried: \"I protest, madam, the\ninvisible person who speaks is the very stranger that rescued me.\"\n\nThe princess seemed astonished, but yet pleased.\n\n\"Oh,\" said she, \"if it be true that the invisible and the stranger are\nthe same person, I confess I shall be glad to make him my\nacknowledgments.\"\n\nLeander, still invisible, replied, \"I will yet do more to deserve\nthem;\" and so saying he returned to Furibon's army, where the report\nof the king's death was already spread throughout the camp. As soon\nas Leander appeared there in his usual habit, everybody knew him; all\nthe officers and soldiers surrounded him, uttering the loudest\nacclamations of joy. In short, they acknowledged him for their king,\nand that the crown of right belonged to him, for which he thanked\nthem, and, as the first mark of his royal bounty, divided the thirty\nrooms of gold among the soldiers. This done, he returned to his\nprincess, ordering the army to march back into his kingdom.\n\nThe princess was gone to bed. Leander, therefore, retired into his own\napartment, for he was very sleepy--so sleepy that he forgot to bolt\nhis door; and so it happened that the princess, rising early to taste\nthe morning air, chanced to enter into this very chamber, and was\ngreatly astonished to find a young prince asleep upon the bed. She\ntook a full view of him, and was convinced that he was the person\nwhose picture she had in her diamond box. \"It is impossible,\" said\nshe, \"that this should be a spirit; for can spirits sleep? Is this a\nbody composed of air and fire, without substance, as Abricotina told\nme?\" She softly touched his hair, and heard him breathe and looked at\nhim as if she could have looked for ever. While she was thus occupied,\nher mother, the fairy, entered with such a dreadful noise that Leander\nstarted out of his sleep. But how deeply was he afflicted, to behold\nhis beloved princess in the most deplorable condition! Her mother\ndragged her by the hair, and loaded her with a thousand bitter\nreproaches. In what grief and consternation were the two young lovers,\nwho saw themselves now upon the point of being separated for ever! The\nprincess durst not open her lips, but cast her eyes upon Leander, as\nif to beg his assistance. He judged rightly, that he ought not to deal\nrudely with a power superior to his own, and therefore he sought, by\nhis eloquence and submission, to move the incensed fairy. He ran to\nher, threw himself at her feet, and besought her to have pity upon a\nyoung prince, who would never change in his affection for her\ndaughter. The princess, encouraged, also embraced her mother's knees,\nand declared that without Leander she should never be happy.\n\n\"Happy!\" cried the fairy, \"you know not the miseries of love, nor the\ntreacheries of which lovers are capable. They bewitch us only to\npoison our lives; I have known it by experience; and will you suffer\nthe same?\"\n\n\"Is there no exception, madam?\" replied Leander, and his countenance\nshowed him to be one.\n\nBut neither tears nor entreaties could move the implacable fairy; and\nit is very probable that she would never have pardoned them, had not\nthe lovely Gentilla appeared at that instant in the chamber, more\nbrilliant than the sun. Embracing the old fairy,--\n\n\"Dear sister,\" said she, \"I am persuaded you cannot have forgotten the\ngood office I did you when, after your unhappy marriage, you besought\na readmittance into Fairyland; since then I never desired any favour\nat your hands, but now the time is come. Pardon, then, this lovely\nprincess; consent to her nuptials with this young prince. I will\nengage he shall be ever constant to her; the thread of their days\nshall be spun of gold and silk; they shall live to complete your\nhappiness; and I will never forget the obligation you lay upon me.\"\n\n\"Charming Gentilla,\" cried the fairy, \"I consent to whatever you\ndesire. Come, my dear children, and receive my love.\" So saying, she\nembraced them both.\n\nAbricotina, just then entering, cast her eyes upon Leander: she knew\nhim again, and saw he was perfectly happy, at which she, too, was\nquite satisfied.\n\n\"Prince,\" condescendingly said the fairy-mother, \"I will remove the\nIsland of Calm Delights into your own kingdom, live with you myself,\nand do you great services.\"\n\nWhether or not Prince Leander appreciated this offer, he bowed low,\nand assured his mother-in-law that no favour could be equal to the one\nhe had that day received from her hands. This short compliment pleased\nthe fairy exceedingly, for she belonged to those ancient days when\npeople used to stand a whole day upon one leg complimenting one\nanother. The nuptials were performed in a most splendid manner, and\nthe young prince and princess lived together happily for many years,\nbeloved by all around them.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOODCUTTER'S DAUGHTER.\n\n\nThere was once a poor woodcutter, very miserable, though prudent and\nindustrious; he had a wife and three grown-up sons, yet their united\nlabours scarcely sufficed for bread. No hope appeared of improving his\nlot, when he was one day fortunate enough to save the life of his\nmaster when attacked by robbers in the forest.\n\nThis master was not ungrateful; he desired the woodcutter to repair to\nhim on the following day in order to receive a reward. The poor man\ndid not fail, hoping to gain two or three crowns; for it appeared so\nnatural to defend an unarmed man that he attached little value to his\nservices, considering his own danger not worth a thought. He put on\nhis best array, shaved, and made many reverences to the porter and the\nnumerous lackeys previous to an introduction to the master, who was\nmuch more polite than the valets.\n\n\"Well, Thomas,\" said he, \"how can I recompense what you have done for\nme? Without your assistance I should have perished; and as my life is\na very happy one, I value it accordingly.\"\n\nPoor Thomas was at a loss how to reply; he stammered out, \"My\nLord--your Grace,\" but could get no further.\n\nThe master, in order to relieve the poor man, interrupted him thus: \"I\nunderstand better than yourself, perhaps, what would suit you; I would\nnot wish to draw you from your native condition, for I believe that\nnone is more truly happy; but I present to you and your children's\nchildren, in perpetuity, the cottage which you inhabit in the forest.\nYou and they shall have the power of cutting as much wood every year\nas you can use; you shall work for yourself; and if your sons like to\nhunt, all the game which they kill shall be for their own use. I only\nexact that you sell nothing, and that while possessing every comfort,\nyou seek not to quit your peaceful obscurity.\"\n\nThomas was so astonished that he could find no words to express his\ngratitude. He came home to his wife, who heartily shared his joy. The\nsons immediately set off for a large supply of faggots, and made a\ngreat fire; but when they had been thoroughly warmed, Mother Thomas\nbegan to say what a pity it was they could make no use of all the wood\nwhich was not burned.\n\n\"An idea has just struck me,\" replied the husband; \"our master gives\nus all we can _use_; these are his own words,--very well; I shall be\nable to use enough to bring us in a pretty little income!\"\n\n\"How?\" said his wife.\n\n\"When I was a boy,\" rejoined the woodcutter, \"my father taught me to\nmake wooden shoes and I made them so light and so neat, that they were\neverywhere sought for. What need now prevent me from exercising this\ntrade? James shall cut wood in the forest, Peter shall kill game for\ndinner, and Paul, who has not the least brains of the three, shall go\nto sell my merchandise at the neighbouring town. This will be a public\nbenefit, by enabling the poor about us to dress with more decency and\ncomfort, and it will also serve to furnish our own cottage, of which\nwe shall make a little palace.\"\n\nThe boys, who were present, highly relished this idea. Mother Thomas,\nwho was rather inclined to gluttony, made the most of the game which\nPeter provided. A little labour, good cheer, a blazing fire, and\nperfect family concord, rendered this family the happiest in the\nworld. The master came to the cottage, and seeing them so united and\nindustrious, encouraged the trade of the wooden shoes, which increased\ntheir comforts without exposing them to the vices attendant on avarice\nand luxury.\n\nBut happiness such as this seldom remains permanent. A flock of\nfurious wolves appeared in the forest; every day they devoured either\nhelpless children or travellers; they tore up the roots of the trees,\nattacking even each other, while their wild howlings were heard night\nand day in the cottage of the woodcutter.\n\nMother Thomas would no longer suffer her boys to leave home; and when\nthey did go in spite of her, she remained watching at the door\nrefusing either to eat or drink until they returned.\n\nSuch a situation was deplorable; when at length the young men, who\nwere very brave, resolved to deliver themselves and their master.\nTaking arms, in case they should be attacked, they went into the\nforest and digged deep pits, covering them with a little earth, laid\nover some branches of trees; and during this heavy labour, which\nlasted several days, they lighted great fires around them, in order to\nhinder the wolves from approaching.\n\nSuccess crowned their enterprise, for in returning to the spot at\nsunrise, they perceived that one of the pits had been broken into\nduring the night, and that it was now quite uncovered. They charged\ntheir muskets, and each were disputing the honour of first firing,\nwhen they heard issue from the depths below, a mild and supplicating\nvoice imploring assistance.\n\n\"What shall we do?\" said Peter; \"assuredly that is not the roaring of\na wolf; it is, perhaps, some unfortunate little wandering child. How\nlucky that we did not draw the trigger!\"\n\nThey approached, and distinguished a beautiful lady richly dressed,\nwearing on her head a cluster of diamonds, which shone like a star.\nShe appeared very young, and was trembling with cold. Much rain had\nfallen during the night, and her robe, of silver gauze, was dabbled in\nmud and water; her fair and tender hands were all dirty, which seemed\nto vex her even more than the dangers she had experienced. She\ncontinued, however, to struggle and to make signs for relief, when\nthree enormous wolves appeared at a distance. The brothers looked at\neach other expressively, like people who feel that all is lost, but\nwho resolve to do their duty They had a cord about them, which Peter\nfastened round his body, and let himself down into the pit. He took\nthe beautiful lady on his shoulders, while his brothers assisted in\ndrawing them up. They then stretched her on the grass, for she had\nfainted; and now the wolves had just reached them,--when, lo! these\nbeasts of prey were instantly turned into three little lambs, and\nlicked the feet of the lady, who slowly returned to life.\n\n\"My good lads,\" said she to the woodcutters, \"fear nothing. From\nhenceforth no more dangerous animals than these shall trouble you. But\nI owe you a still greater recompense; lead me to your father; I wish\nto felicitate him on the generosity and bravery of his sons.\"\n\nThe poor youths were so astonished by this adventure, that they felt\nunable to reply; but they respectfully lifted her long train from the\nground, it having now recovered all its splendour.\n\nThe three lambs followed, skipping and frolicking before them--they\nseemed to know the way; and Mother Thomas, who sat at the door looking\nout for her children, was not a little surprised to behold their\ncompanion.\n\nShe had, however, presence of mind to invite her noble guest to enter\nand rest; much ashamed of having nothing better to offer than a straw\nchair, and some spring-water, which was in a very clean pitcher on the\ndresser.\n\n\"I shall willingly rest an hour with you,\" said the lady. \"Although\nyou now see me for the first time, I am one of your best friends, of\nwhich I shall give you a proof. I accept a glass of water, on\ncondition that your husband and children will also pledge me.\"\n\nA glance of Mother Thomas's eye directed her family; they each sought\ntheir ordinary drinking cup, which was of wood, and then bent the neck\nof the pitcher; but what was their astonishment to perceive the vessel\nturn into wrought-silver in their hands, and to taste, instead of\nwater, a liquor so delicious, that when the woodcutter and his wife\nhad drunk, they felt themselves ten years younger than before!\n\nThey threw themselves at the feet of the beautiful lady, in terror;\nfor a natural instinct made them feel that great power is always more\nor less to be dreaded, even when employed in acts of beneficence. The\nlady meanwhile kindly raised them, and having spoken of the courage\nand generosity of their sons, who exposed themselves to the fury of\nwolves rather than take flight and abandon her, she said that her name\nwas the Fairy Coquette, and that she would willingly relate her\nhistory.\n\n\"Previously, madam,\" said the woodcutter, \"will you have the goodness\nto tell me, what is a fairy? During thirty years that I have inhabited\nthis forest, I have heard of the devil, of the Were wolf, of the\nmonster of Gevaudan, but never have I heard of fairies.\"\n\n\"We exist, notwithstanding,\" replied Coquette, \"but not in all ages,\nnor in all countries. We are supernatural beings, to whom has been\nimparted a portion of supernatural power, which we make use of for\ngood or evil, according to our natural disposition; in that alone\nconsists our resemblance to men.\"\n\nThe woodcutter, who was very simple, understood little of this\nexplanation; but, like many others, had a profound respect for what he\ncould not comprehend. He bowed down to the ground, and only requested\nthe fairy to inform him, why a supernatural being, so highly gifted,\ncould have fallen into a pit prepared for wolves.\n\n\"It is,\" replied Coquette, \"because I have an enemy still more\npowerful than myself, the Enchanter Barabapatapouf, the most wicked\nogre in the world; he has but three teeth, three hairs, one eye, and\nis fifteen feet high. With all these charms he happened to fall in\nlove with me, and merely for mischief I affected to accept him. He\nthen invited his friends to the nuptials; when, to his great\nmortification, I took them to witness that I would never be the wife\nof such a monster. Barabapatapouf was deeply incensed, swore to be\nrevenged, and has never lost an opportunity of keeping his word. I\nshould have remained three days in that horrible pit but for the\ngenerosity of your children.\"\n\n\"They have done nothing more than their duty,\" replied the woodcutter.\n\n\"I must also do mine,\" said Coquette, \"but my power is limited. I can\nsatisfy but two wishes, and it is necessary that each of you should\nchoose freely, unbiased by the other. You must separate accordingly,\nand to-morrow at early dawn, come to inform me what you have all\nresolved on during the night.\"\n\nMother Thomas was very uneasy in thinking how she could accommodate\nthe fairy, for neither her children's beds nor her own were worthy of\noffering to such a grand lady; but Coquette desired her to feel at\nease, as she would provide everything needful. She then drew forth\nsome grains of sand, which she scattered on the floor. Instantly there\narose on the spot a bed of rose-leaves three feet high; the bolster\nwas of violets, heartsease and orange flowers, all breathing delicious\nperfumes; and the counterpane, entirely composed of butterflies'\nwings, exhibited colours so brilliant and varied that one could never\nbe weary of examining it. The three lambs which had followed the fairy\nlay down at her feet, and as the room was rather damp, they gently\nwarmed it with their breath, with a care and intelligence almost\nhuman. The woodcutter and his sons felt so surprised at all these\nwonders, that they imagined themselves dreaming. Coquette warned\nMother Thomas that if she should speak once to her husband before she\nagain saw her, the wishes could not be realized. The strictest\ninjunctions were indeed necessary, to prevent their communicating on a\nsubject which interested both so deeply. When day appeared, Coquette\nsummoned them to her presence.\n\nThe woodcutter first came, and said, with his usual simplicity, that\nhe never could have believed it so difficult to form a wish. Till that\nmoment he had considered himself happy, but now finding it possible\nto obtain one thing, he desired a thousand. Wearied with the fatigue\nof thought, he had fallen asleep without coming to a determination;\nbut seeing in his dreams five purses filled with gold, it seemed as if\none were for him, one for his wife, and one for each of his children.\n\n\"Well,\" said the Coquette, \"these purses are apparently your desire;\ngo then to the bin where you deposit your bread, and you will find\nthem. Only say how many pounds you wish them to contain.\"\n\n\"Oh, if there were but a hundred pounds in each,\" replied Thomas,\n\"that would be sufficient to extend our little commerce, and send our\nwooden shoes to China itself.\"\n\n\"Your wish is accomplished,\" said the fairy; \"go away, and permit your\nwife to come in her turn.\"\n\nThe good dame had also passed a sleepless night, and had never before\nbeen so much agitated or so unhappy; sometimes she wished for riches,\nand then thought, riches would not prevent her from dying--so she had\nbetter wish that she might live a hundred years. Now one idea filled\nher mind, now another; it seemed as if the fairy should have given her\nat least a month to deliberate. At last she suddenly said: \"Madam\nFairy, I am very old, and what I desire most is a daughter, to assist\nme in household management and to keep me company; my husband almost\nlives in the woods and leaves me at break of day; my sons also go\nabout their business; we are without neighbours, and I have nobody to\nspeak to.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said the fairy; \"you shall have the prettiest daughter\nimaginable, and she shall speak from her birth, in order that no time\nmay be lost. Call your husband and sons; I hope to find all parties\ncontent.\"\n\nThe little family assembled, but harmony was not the result of their\ncommunications. The young men thought their father's wish quite\npitiful, and the woodcutter by no means relished the idea of another\nchild. The fairy, however, provided an excellent breakfast, and the\nwine reanimated his spirits.\n\n\"Now I promise,\" said Coquette, \"that you shall have a daughter, who\nat the moment of her birth will be endowed with the figure and the\nintelligence of twelve years old. Call her Rose, for her complexion\nshall shame the flower which bears that name.\"\n\n\"And _I_ pronounce that she shall also be as black as ebony, and\nbecome, before the age of fifteen, the wife of a great king,\" said a\nvery strong voice in clear and distinct accents, accompanied by shouts\nof laughter, which evidently proceeded from a great pitcher placed at\nthe corner of the chimney.\n\nThe Fairy Coquette turned pale, and consternation was general; but the\nwoodcutter, now merry with wine, joined in the laugh. \"Ah! how droll,\"\nsaid he, \"red and black roses! A likely story, indeed, that a great\nking would come a-wooing to a woodcutter's daughter! Only a pitcher\ncould invent such nonsense, and I shall teach it to utter no more.\"\n\nThus saying, he gave the pitcher a great kick and broke it in pieces;\nwhen there issued from it a smoke thick and black, and so stifling\nthat Coquette was obliged to use two bottles of essence to dissipate\nits noxious effects.\n\n\"Ah, cruel Barabapatapouf!\" cried she, \"must your malignity then\nextend even to those whom I wish to benefit? I indeed recognise my\nenemy,\" said she to the woodcutter; \"beware of him, and believe that\nit is with no good intention he destines your daughter for the bride\nof a king. Some mystery is here concealed, foreboding evil.\"\n\nEvery one was rendered quite melancholy by this adventure, and\nCoquette, beginning to weary of these poor foresters, opened the\nwindow and disappeared.\n\nA great quarrel then arose between the woodcutter and his sons, who,\nforgetting that respect in which they had never before failed,\nreproached him for losing an opportunity of rendering them all happy.\n\"We might,\" said they, \"have purchased estates, finery of all kinds,\nand been as rich and noble as many who now despise us. One or two\nmillions would have been as easy said as five hundred pounds; that sum\nwould obtain a marquisate for my father, and baronies for each of us.\nWhat extraordinary stupidity our parents have shown!\"\n\n\"My children,\" said the woodcutter, \"are these things, then, necessary\nfor happiness? It appeared to me that you were well satisfied when our\nmaster only made our poverty a little less oppressive; and now, while\nyou have more gold than you ever saw in your lives, one would suppose\nthat you had been deeply injured, and could never know contentment\nmore.\"\n\nAs for Mother Thomas, she was wiser, and so well pleased with the idea\nof her daughter, that her imagination roamed no farther. In course of\ntime she gave birth to an infant; but scarcely had it seen the light\nthan it glided from her arms, and started up to the stature of a\nwell-formed girl of twelve or thirteen years old, who made a low\ncourtesy to the woodcutter, kissed the hand of her mother, and offered\nher brothers a cordial embrace. But these lads ill-naturedly repulsed\nthe young stranger; they felt jealous, fearing that she would now be\npreferred to them.\n\nRose, one might say, was born dressed, for flowing ringlets fell\naround her shoulders, forming a complete covering; and with her\nincrease of size, appeared a little smart petticoat and brown bodice\nin peasant fashion. Her delicate feet were clad in wooden shoes, but\nboth the foot and the shoe were so shapely, that any lady in the land\nmight have been proud to exhibit them. Her little plump hand was so\nwhite that it hardly appeared formed for rustic labours, yet she\nimmediately prepared to assist in household matters, and the poor old\ndame was never weary of caressing such a charming child.\n\nA bed was prepared for Rose beside her mother. This good girl arose at\ndawn to prepare the young men's breakfast; for she had an excellent\nnatural disposition, and so much intelligence that she seemed to know\nby instinct that her birth was displeasing to them, and sought to\ngain their regard by good-natured attentions.\n\nMother Thomas soon rose likewise, and returned to the kitchen. But\nwhat was her horror on beholding her daughter's face black as ebony,\nher hair woolly and crisped like a negro's! As there was no mirror in\nthe cottage, Rose could not understand what had so alarmed her mother;\nshe asked if she had involuntarily had the misfortune to give offence?\n\n\"No, no,\" said the old dame, weeping; \"shouldst thou remain all thy\nlife as black as ink, I shall not love thee less; but I cannot without\npain recall thy beauties of yesterday. Thou wilt be laughed at; and us\ntoo. Still, we will keep thee--thou must never leave us.\"\n\nRose readily promised she never would. But when her brothers returned,\nthey considered the change in her quite as a matter of course. They\nrecollected the prediction of the pitcher, and seemed quite delighted\nto think that, since it was fulfilled in the first instance, they\nmight yet become the brothers of a queen.\n\nMeanwhile they lived on better terms with Rose, hoping that one day\nshe might be of service to them. Far from listening to the counsels of\ntheir father, they endeavoured to awaken in her mind the seeds of\nambition; and in order to further views interested and selfish,\nflattered her beauty, her talents, and her sense, rendering the future\nqueen the most respectful homage, which diverted her exceedingly.\n\nBut, strange to say, Rose was not always black; every second day she\nrecovered her natural beauty, from whence it might be concluded, that\nthe influence of the fairy and the Enchanter Barabapatapouf operated\nalternately. The woodcutter's family grew gradually accustomed to\nthese successions; and as habit reconciles people to all things, each\ncolour became indifferent to them.\n\nThomas was too old to change his mode of life; he would not hear of\ngoing to live in town, although they had money sufficient for that\npurpose; he also still continued the making of wooden shoes. Those\nwhich Rose wore in winter were trimmed with lamb's-wool, which she\nwrought very dexterously; she was clever and ingenious but, it must be\nconfessed, a little imperious; and was sometimes surprised sighing\nlike a person indulging in visionary wishes, and languishing under\nsome secret chagrin.\n\nA year passed: Rose grew tall, and her brothers, weary of waiting for\nan event so uncertain as her marriage with a king, executed a crime\nwhich they had long meditated. Seeing that their father had touched\nbut one of the purses, they easily obtained possession of the rest,\nand rising with the dawn, all three departed, saying, to satisfy their\nconsciences, that these purses must be finally theirs, and that they\nwould, meanwhile, turn them to advantage. When they should become very\nrich, they would come back to their parents and take care of their\nlatter days. Each of them made a belt, in which he concealed his gold;\nand with perfect concord, more frequently found amongst knaves than\nhonest men, they travelled a hundred leagues in eight days.\n\nThe woodcutter and his wife did not at first comprehend the extent of\ntheir misfortune. They thought their children must have gone astray in\nthe forest, and the old man wandered everywhere in search of them. But\nwhen he observed the loss of the purses, the truth was revealed, and\nhe felt ready to die with grief. \"Cursed gold!\" cried he, \"thou hast\ncorrupted my brave and honest boys; they were poor, but virtuous; they\nare now become villains, and will meet punishment from either man or\nGod!\"\n\nThus saying, he took the remaining purse, and flung it into the bottom\nof a well. Mother Thomas was vexed, but dared not speak, for the\nunfortunate man was so much irritated and troubled that he would have\nbeaten her.\n\nWhen his reason cleared a little, however, he felt that he had\ncommitted an error in parting with his money, they being both old and\nunable to work as formerly. The dame sold some articles which had been\npurchased during their prosperity. But poverty was nothing; it was the\nconduct of their sons which inflicted the bitter sting. How was this\nthen augmented, when some officers of justice arrived, and announced\nthat James, Peter, and Paul had been arrested. It seemed that while\ndrinking together in a public-house, they had spread on a table all\ntheir gold. The host surprised them, and not believing that young\npeasants, so coarsely clothed and wearing wooden shoes, could lawfully\nbe in possession of such a sum, he had given them in charge. The poor\nboys, quite terrified, related the story of the Fairy Coquette; but\nas the magistrate had never seen a fairy, he did not believe one word\nof the matter.\n\nHaving then no hope but in the kindness of their father, they sent to\nsummon the woodcutter and his wife, who confirmed all their\nassertions. But as no money was found in the cottage, whose\ninhabitants appeared to subsist on their labour, the officers knew not\nwhat to think.\n\nMeantime they arrested the woodcutter for the purpose of identifying\nhis children. Pale, and trembling like criminals, the old couple\nfollowed the guards. Mother Thomas was ready to faint, and doubly\ngrieved for leaving poor Rose all alone, especially as this was her\nday for being white and beautiful. She begged her not to leave the\nhouse, but to live on the milk of her sheep, and to bake cakes of some\nmeal which was in the bin. Their adieus were heart-rending; although\nthe soldiers declared that in three days the forester should be at\nliberty to return, provided the innocence of his family was\nestablished. Rose believed them, and endeavoured to take courage. But\nmore than a month passed, and no tidings of her parents. She could not\nthen prevent herself from wandering a little on the highway; and\nhaving walked till sunset, wept so bitterly, that her beauty indeed\nmust have been a fairy-gift to remain uninjured.\n\nOne evening, being more worn out than usual, she seated herself at the\nfoot of a tree and fell asleep. A slight noise awoke her, and, on\nlooking up, she perceived a young gentleman richly dressed, who was\ncontemplating her with evident astonishment. \"Art thou a goddess, or a\nsimple mortal?\" cried he.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied Rose, \"I am the daughter of a poor woodcutter, who\nlives in the forest;--it is late, and I beg you will not detain me.\"\n\n\"You are a wayward beauty, indeed!\" replied the prince, for so he was;\n\"but as my way lies in that direction, I hope you will permit me to\nsee you home.\"\n\n\"It is not in my power to prevent you,\" said Rose, without raising her\neyes.\n\nThe prince at this moment remarked that she had been weeping, and,\ndelighted to have an opportunity of offering sympathy and consolation,\nentreated her to impart her grief to him. \"I am not actuated by mere\ncuriosity,\" added he; \"I never can behold a woman in tears without\nfeeling moved to the bottom of my soul! Tell me your distress, and I\nwill neither sleep nor eat till I have aided you.\"\n\nRose timidly raised her lovely blue eyes, to see whether the\ncountenance of the prince harmonised with his discourse; but although\nhe was not actually ugly, his features wore an expression too stern\nand hypocritical to invite her confidence. She therefore walked\nsilently forward, and when near the cottage felt so uneasy, that, for\nthe first time, she invented a lie in order to get rid of him. \"You\nseem to compassionate my sorrows,\" said she; \"meanwhile you only\nincrease them. When my mother sees me accompanied by a great gentleman\nlike you, she will beat me, and not believe that you have followed me\nagainst my will.\"\n\nThis reasoning appeared so just to the prince, who felt himself\naffected by a passion such as he had never before experienced, that he\nconsented to retire, entreating Rose to meet him the next evening at\nthe same hour. She refused to give a decisive answer, and returned\nhome much dejected; recalling all the words of the stranger, and\nalmost reproaching herself for having behaved so harshly to him.\n\nThe following day Rose took mechanically the same route, going always\nin the path by which her parents might be expected. Her provisions\nbeing nearly exhausted, she feared to die of hunger, and began to\nthink that this gentleman, who had been repulsed so rudely, could,\nperhaps, obtain news of her family. Suddenly beholding him leaning\nagainst a tree, looking very melancholy and dejected, she threw\nherself at his feet, bathed in tears, and said--\n\n\"Sir, a wretch who has lost everything dear, supplicates your\ncompassion. You are so kind--so tender-hearted--\"\n\n\"What does the vile creature want!\" exclaimed the prince, with a\nsavage expression. \"How dare you have the impertinence to address me?\nI wonder what prevents me from shooting you. I lost my sport all\nyesterday in following a pretty girl, here is game of a new\ndescription.\"\n\nRose started up, overwhelmed with terror, while the prince laughed\nmost brutally. It was not till that moment she recollected that this\nher black day, which accounted for his not recognising her. \"Ah!\"\nthought she, \"this is the humane man who could not behold a woman\nweep; because my colour displeases him, he is ready to take my life.\nNo hope now remains for me--my misfortunes are at their height!\"\n\nRose wept all night; yet she could not prevent herself from returning\nto the same spot on the following day; she felt irresistibly led\nthither, dreading, and yet wishing, to meet the prince.\n\nHe had been already waiting above an hour, and accosted her with a\ndegree of respect quite unusual for him; but he was in love, and love\nmakes the worst of people better for the time.\n\n\"Cruel beauty!\" said he, in a courtier-like style, to which Rose was\nlittle accustomed, \"what have I not suffered during your absence! I\neven remained all night in the wood, in expectation of you, and the\nqueen my mother despatched messengers everywhere, fearing some\naccident had befallen me.\"\n\n\"The queen, your mother!\" exclaimed Rose. \"Are you, then, the son of a\nqueen?\"\n\n\"I have betrayed myself!\" said the prince, striking his forehead in a\ntheatrical manner. \"Yes, it is true, I have that misfortune. You will\nnow fear me; and what we fear, we never love.\"\n\n\"The wicked alone are to be feared,\" answered Rose. \"I am very glad to\nhear that you are a king, for I know that you will be my husband.\"\n\nThe prince, who little guessed the enchanter's communication, was\nconfounded by the unembarrassed freedom of her manner; but it was far\nfrom displeasing to him. \"You are ambitious,\" said he, smiling; \"but\nthere is nothing to which beauty may not pretend. Tell me only how I\ncan have the happiness of serving you, and you shall see that\neverything is possible to love.\"\n\nRose sat down on the grass, and related in very simple terms the story\nof the purse; confessed that she had deceived him, and that, so far\nfrom being severely treated at home, she was now weeping her mother's\nloss; that the king must take measures for the discovery and\nliberation of her family, before he could hope to win her affections,\nor pretend to her hand.\n\nThe enamoured monarch vowed he would not lose a moment; and although\nshe behaved with much dignity, her every word and look was adorable in\nhis eyes. Rose thought all night of the fine fortune of being a queen;\nshe would then no longer wear wooden shoes; and, above all, might have\nan opportunity of being useful to her dear parents.\n\nThese meetings continued every alternate day during a week; and the\nqueen dowager was informed that her son neglected all business, and\nthought of nothing but making love. She was in despair. This prince\nwas surnamed the Terrible, by reason of his ferocity to women: till\nthat moment he had never loved, but he had frequently made pretence of\nit, and when successful, it was not unusual with him to cut out the\npoor ladies' tongues, put out their eyes, or even throw them into the\nsea. The least pretext sufficed for this; and the queen, who was of a\nkind disposition, lamented that yet another victim was preparing. The\ncourtiers begged her to be tranquil; said it was nothing more than the\ndaughter of a poor woodcutter whom his majesty now admired, and that\nif he did kill her, it would be of little consequence.\n\nBut the courtiers, and the queen dowager herself, were altogether\nbewildered when the king, having liberated the woodcutter and his\nfamily, brought Rose to the palace as his wife. She was not at all\nabashed or out of countenance; she behaved with the utmost respect to\nthe queen, and with affability to all. It was universally remarked:\n\"The king has committed a folly, but that charming girl is his excuse,\nand no man would have been wiser under similar circumstances.\"\n\nA grand ball was given in the evening. Rose danced well enough for a\nqueen; and she yielded herself up entirely to the enchantment of such\na happy day. The prince, ever eager to be near her, was figuring away\nin a quadrille, when twelve o'clock struck: great, then, was his\nastonishment, while gazing passionately on his partner, he beheld--a\nnegress!\n\n\"What metamorphosis is this?\" cried he, rudely seizing her arm; \"where\nis the princess I married to-day?\"\n\nRose bent her head in confusion; it still bore her diamonds, and her\ncrown,--no doubt could exist of her identity.\n\n\"Wretched, hideous black, thou shalt surely die!\" cried the king;\n\"none shall deceive me with impunity.\" He then drew a poniard, and was\npreparing to take instant vengeance, when, recollecting himself--\"I do\nthee too much honour,\" said he; \"rather let my cooks cut thee in\npieces to make a hash for my hounds.\"\n\nThe old queen, as humane as her son was cruel, knew there was but one\nmeans of saving the unfortunate victim; this was to appear still more\nenraged than the king.\n\n\"I truly feel this injury,\" said she; \"some times you have reproached\nmy weakness, but now behold a proof that I also can avenge. Your\norders must be strictly fulfilled--I myself shall witness the\nexecution.\" She then signed to the guards to lay hold of the\nunfortunate Rose, who was dragged away by an iron chain fastened round\nher neck. She gave herself up for lost, and uttering the most\nheart-rending cries, was led away to a pigeon-house at the end of the\npalace, furnished with some clean straw, where, however, the queen\npromised to come on the following day.\n\nHer majesty kept her word. Much affected by the sweetness of the\nhapless bride, she promised to mitigate, as far as possible, her\nmelancholy situation.\n\nRose, very grateful, supplicated her benefactress to inform the\nwoodcutter's family that she was still alive, knowing what they would\nsuffer should the story reach them of the black Rose having\nbreakfasted the king's hounds. The queen promised to employ a\nconfidential domestic; and Rose, who had still preserved her wooden\nshoes, sent one, that her father might recognise his handiwork.\n\nA few days afterwards a young peasant arrived from the cottage; he\nbrought some cakes and cheese, made by Mother Thomas, which Rose\npreferred to all the delicacies of the palace.\n\nThis young peasant, who was named Mirto, related to Rose everything\nconcerning her dear parents, and took back very loving messages from\nher to them.\n\nMirto found so much pleasure in conversing with the fair prisoner, and\nhad so often cakes to carry, that they were seldom asunder. He said he\nwas an orphan, and having some work to do in the prison where Thomas\nhad been confined, there formed a friendship with the family. In\nreturn for some little services then rendered them, he desired to\nlearn the trade of the wooden shoes; being very ingenious, he became a\nvaluable acquisition. He never had felt so happy before. In truth, he\nwas not aware that this happiness received its date from the hour in\nwhich he first saw Rose.\n\nAlas! the poor Rose was only too sensible of his affection, and\nfeeling the duty of struggling against it, found herself still more\nmiserable than before.\n\n\"Whatever may be the conduct of Prince Terrible,\" said she to herself,\n\"I have married him. It is certainly very hard to love a husband who\nwished to kill me, but still I should not permit myself to love\nanother.\"\n\nFor a whole month following she had sufficient resolution to see Mirto\nno more, and was becoming sick with chagrin and weariness. The queen\nvisited her frequently, bringing all sorts of sweetmeats, and a\nsinging-bird, to divert her captivity. She brought no finery; indeed,\nthat would have been quite thrown away on the pigeons.\n\nAt length, one day Rose heard a great noise in the palace. People kept\nrunning to and fro--all the bells were rung, and all the cannons\nfired. The poor prisoner mounted up to one of the pigeon-holes, and\npeeping through, perceived the palace hung with black. She knew not\nwhat to think. But some one of the queen's officers appeared, and\nconducted her in due form to the court. Rose, all trembling, inquired\nwhat had happened.\n\n\"Your majesty is a widow,\" replied the officer; \"the king has been\nkilled in hunting; here are your weeds, of which the queen begs your\nacceptance.\"\n\nRose was much agitated, but she followed the officer in silence, with\na sad and serious aspect, as a dignified personage should do when\ninformed of the death of a husband.\n\nThe queen was a tender mother, and although fully conscious of the\nferocious disposition of her son, she deeply lamented him, and wept\nbitterly on embracing her daughter-in-law. \"You husband is no more,\"\nsaid she; \"forget his errors, my dear child; the remainder of my life\nshall be devoted to making atonement for them.\"\n\nThe princess threw herself at her benefactress' feet, and declared all\nwas forgotten. \"If your majesty deigns to permit me to speak\ncandidly,\" added she, \"and will bestow a moment's attention, I shall\nconfess the dearest wishes of my heart!\"\n\n\"Speak,\" said the queen; \"nothing now can assuage my grief, save an\nopportunity of proving to you my friendship.\"\n\n\"I was not born for a queen,\" continued Rose. \"My mother is a poor\nforester, but she has been a tender parent, and weeps incessantly for\nmy absence.\"\n\n\"Let her be conducted hither,\" replied the queen.\n\n\"This is not all, madam,\" continued Rose; \"I confess that I love a\nyoung peasant, who has assisted my father to make wooden shoes. If I\nwere the wife of Mirto, and your majesty would have the goodness to\ngive some assistance to my family, my old father might be freed from\nlabour, and I the happiest woman in the world.\"\n\nThe queen embraced Rose, and promised all she wished. She then\nconducted her to the forest; and just as they had reached its\nboundary, they perceived in the air a mahogany car, mounted on wheels\nof mother-o'-pearl; two pretty white lambs were yoked to it, which\nRose immediately recognised as those of the Fairy Coquette.\n\nThe car descended, and the fairy alighting thus addressed the queen:\n\"Madam, I come to seek my child, and am delighted to find you willing\nto part with her, for she has a lover whom I approve;--who loves her\nfaithfully, though hopelessly, which is a thing more rare than all the\ntreasures of your majesty's crown.\"\n\nThe fairy then addressing herself to Rose, related that her enemy, the\nEnchanter Barabapatapouf, had just been killed in combat with another\ngiant. \"Now,\" added Coquette, \"I have full power to render you happy;\"\nand passing her fair hand over Rose's face, the negro colour and\nfeatures vanished--to reappear no more.\n\nThe queen, convinced that her daughter-in-law required nothing\nfurther, offered only her portrait, as a token of esteem and\nfriendship. Rose received it with grateful respect, then ascended the\nfairy's car, and was in a few minutes surrounded by the foresters, who\nnever wearied of caressing her. Poor Mirto drew back, trembling, not\nknowing whether to hope or fear; but Coquette, perceiving their mutual\nembarrassment, declared that she had ordained this marriage from the\nvery beginning. She blessed them, gave them a flock of beautiful white\nsheep, a cottage covered with honeysuckles and roses, a lovely garden\nabounding with fruits and flowers, and a moderate sum of money;\nendowing them also with life for a hundred years, uninterrupted\nhealth, and constant love.\n\n\n\n\nBROTHER AND SISTER.\n\n\nA brother took his sister by the hand and said, \"Since our mother is\ndead we have no more happy hours: our stepmother beats us every day,\nand whenever we come near her she kicks us away. She gives us hard\ncrusts and nasty scraps to eat, and the dog under the table fares\nbetter than we do, for he does sometimes get a nice bit thrown to him.\nIt would break our mother's heart if she knew it! Come, we will go out\ninto the wide world together.\"\n\nThey went along the whole day through meadows, over rocks and stones,\nand when it rained the little sister said, \"Heaven and our hearts are\ncrying together.\" In the evening they came to a great wood, and were\nso worn out with grief, hunger, and weariness, that they sat down in a\nhollow tree and went to sleep.\n\nThe next morning, when they awoke, the sun was already high in the\nheavens, and shone down very hot on the tree. Upon which said the\nbrother, \"Sister, I am thirsty; I would go and have a drink if I knew\nwhere there was a spring: I think I can hear one trickling.\" He got\nup, took his sister by the hand, and they went to look for the spring.\n\nThe wicked stepmother, however, who was a witch, and well knew how the\nchildren had run away, had crept after them secretly, in the way\nwitches do, and had bewitched all the springs in the wood. When they\nhad found a spring that was dancing brightly over the stones, the\nbrother stooped down to drink; but his sister heard a voice in its\nmurmur, which said, \"Whoever drinks of me will become a tiger.\"\nEagerly the little sister cried, \"I pray thee, brother, do not drink,\nlest thou become a wild beast and tear me to pieces.\"\n\nThe brother did not drink, although he was so thirsty, but said, \"I\nwill wait for the next spring.\" When they came to the next, the little\nsister heard it say, \"Who drinks of me will become a wolf; who drinks\nof me will become a wolf!\" and cried out, \"Oh brother, I pray thee do\nnot drink, lest thou become a wolf and eat me up.\"\n\nThe brother did not drink, but said, \"I will wait till I come to the\nnext spring, but then I must drink, say what you will, for my thirst\nis getting unbearable.\"\n\nAnd when they came to the third spring, the little sister heard a\nvoice in its murmur, saying, \"Whoever drinks of me will become a roe,\"\nand she cried, \"Oh brother, do not drink, I pray thee, lest thou\nbecome a roe and run away from me.\" But the brother had already knelt\ndown by the stream, stooped down, and drank of the water; and as soon\nas the first drop touched his lips, there he lay--a white roe.\n\nThe little sister cried over her poor bewitched brother, and the roe\ncried also as he rested mournfully beside her. At last the maiden\nsaid, \"Never mind, dear Roe, I will never forsake you.\" So she took\noff her golden garter and put it round the roe's neck, then pulled\nsome rushes and wove them into a cord. To this she tied the little\nanimal and led him on, and they both went still deeper into the wood.\nWhen they had gone a long, long way, they came at last to a little\nhouse, into which the maiden peeped; and as it was empty, she thought,\n\"Here we may stay and live.\" So she made a pretty bed of leaves and\nmoss for the roe; and every morning she went out and gathered roots,\nberries, and nuts for herself; and for the roe she brought tender\ngrass, which he ate out of her hand, and played about and was very\nhappy. In the evening, when the little sister was tired and had said\nher prayers, she laid her head upon the roe, who was her pillow, and\nwent sweetly to sleep; and if her brother had only kept his proper\nshape, they would have led a very happy life.\n\nThey had lived alone in this way during a long time, when it happened\nthat the king of the country held a great hunt in the forest. Through\nthe trees might be heard the blowing of horns, the barking of dogs,\nand the joyous cries of the hunters, which when the little roe heard\nhe was almost beside himself with delight. \"Oh,\" said he to his\nsister, \"let me go and see the hunt: I can no longer refrain;\" and he\nbegged hard till she consented.\n\n\"But,\" said she, \"when you return at evening I shall have shut my door\nagainst the wild huntsmen, and in order that I may know you, knock\nand say, 'My little sister, let me in;' but if you do not say so, I\nshall not open the door.\"\n\nNow off sprang the roe, and was so happy to find himself in the open\nair. The king and his huntsmen saw the beautiful beast and set off\nafter him, but they could not catch him; for when they thought they\nhad certainly got him, he sprang over a bush and disappeared. When it\nwas dark he galloped up to the little house, knocked, and cried, \"My\nlittle sister, let me in.\" And when the door was opened he sprang in,\nand rested all night on his pretty little bed. Next morning the hunt\nbegan again, and when the roe heard the blast of the horns, and the\n\"Ho! ho!\" of the hunters, he could not rest, and cried, \"Sister, open\nthe door; I must go.\"\n\nHis sister opened the door and said, \"But mind you must be back in the\nevening and make your little speech, that I may let you in.\"\n\nWhen the king and his huntsmen saw the white roe with the gold band\nonce more, they all rode after him, but he was too quick and agile for\nthem. This chase lasted the whole day; at last, towards evening, the\nhunters surrounded him, and wounded him with an arrow in the foot, so\nthat he was forced to limp and go slowly. One of the hunters, creeping\nsoftly after him to the little house, heard him say, \"My sister, let\nme in,\" and saw that the door was opened and immediately shut to\nagain; so he went back to the king, and told him all he had seen and\nheard.\n\n\"We will have another hunt to-morrow,\" said the king.\n\nThe little sister was greatly alarmed when she saw her white roe was\nwounded; she washed off the blood, laid herbs upon the place, and\nsaid, \"Go now to thy bed, dear Roe, and get well.\"\n\nThe wound, however, was so slight that the next morning he felt\nnothing of it, and when he heard the noise of the hunt, he said, \"I\ncannot keep away; I must go, and nothing shall keep me.\"\n\nHis sister cried and said, \"Now you will go and be killed, and leave\nme here alone in the forest, forsaken by all the world; I will not let\nyou go out.\"\n\n\"Then I shall die here of grief,\" answered the roe: \"for when I hear\nthe sound of the horn, I do feel as if I could jump out of my shoes.\"\nSo his sister could not do less than open the door with a heavy heart,\nand the roe sprang out joyfully into the forest.\n\nAs soon as the king saw him, he said to his huntsmen, \"Now hunt him\nall day till evening, but don't do anything to hurt him.\"\n\nWhen the sun was set the king said to his huntsman, \"Now come and show\nme the little house you saw in the wood.\" And when he was before the\ndoor he knocked and cried, \"Dear little sister, let me in.\"\nImmediately the door opened, the king entered, and there stood a\nmaiden more beautiful than any one he had ever seen. The damsel was\nfrightened when she found there had come in, not her roe, but a man\nwho wore a golden crown on his head. But the king looked kindly at\nher, took her hand and said, \"Wilt thou go with me to my castle, and\nbe my dear wife?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" answered the maiden, \"but the roe must come with me, for I\ncannot forsake him.\"\n\nThe king replied, \"He shall remain with you as long as you live, and\nshall want for nothing.\"\n\nAt this moment he came springing in, his sister tied the cord of\nrushes round his neck, led him with her own hand, and they all left\nthe little house together.\n\nThe king took the beautiful maiden on his own horse and conducted her\nto his castle, where the marriage was celebrated with great pomp. She\nwas now queen, and they lived a long time very happily together; while\nthe roe was petted and taken care of, and played all day about the\npalace-garden.\n\nBut the wicked stepmother, on whose account these children had been\ndriven into the wide world, thought nothing less than that the little\nsister had been torn to pieces by wild beasts in the forest, and that\nthe brother, in the shape of a roe, had been killed by the hunters.\nWhen she now heard they were so happy, and that everything went well\nwith them, envy and spite raged in her heart and gave her no rest, and\nher only thought was how she could do some mischief to them both. Her\nown daughter, who was as ugly as the night and had only one eye, was\ncontinually reproaching her, and saying, \"It is I who ought to have\nbeen made queen.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the old witch to console her; \"when the time comes\nI will manage it.\"\n\nBy and by the queen gave birth to a beautiful little boy; and the king\nbeing away at the hunt, the old witch took upon herself the form of\nthe lady-in-waiting, entered the room where the queen lay, and said to\nher, \"Come, the bath is ready, which will do you good and give you new\nstrength; make haste before it gets cold.\" Her daughter was also at\nhand, and they carried the poor weak queen between them into the\nbathroom, and laid her in the bath: then they shut the door and ran\naway. But under the bath they had first lighted a great furnace-fire,\nso that the beautiful young queen could not save herself from being\nscorched alive.\n\nWhen that was done the old witch took her own daughter, put a cap on\nher, and laid her on the bed in the queen's room. She changed her also\ninto the shape of the young queen, all except her one eye, and she\ncould not give her another. But in order that the king might not\nobserve it, she was obliged to lie on that side where there was no\neye. In the evening, when he was come home, and heard that he had a\nlittle son, he was very much delighted, and wished to visit his dear\nwife and see how she was getting on; on which the old woman cried out\nin a great hurry, \"As you value your life, don't touch the curtain;\nthe queen must not see the light, and must be left quite quiet.\" So\nthe king went away, and never found out that it was a false queen in\nthe bed.\n\nBut when it was midnight, and all the world was asleep, the nurse who\nwas sitting beside the cradle, and who was the only person awake, saw\nthe door open and the true queen come in. She took the baby out of the\ncradle, laid it in her arms, and nursed it tenderly. She then shook\nup the pillows, laid it down again, and covered it with the\ncounterpane. She did not forget the roe either, but went into the\ncorner where it lay, and stroked it gently. After this she passed out,\nquite silently, through the door; and the nurse inquired next morning\nof the sentinels whether any one had gained entrance into the palace\nduring the night, but they answered, \"No--we have seen nobody.\" She\ncontinued to come in the same way for several nights, though she spoke\nnever a word: the nurse always saw her, but never dared to mention it.\n\nWhen some time had passed, the queen at last began to speak, and\nsaid--\n\n    \"How is my baby? How is my roe?\n    I can come again twice, then for ever must go.\"\n\nThe nurse could not answer her; but when she had disappeared she went\nto the king, and told him all about it, upon which he cried, \"What\ndoes it mean? I will myself watch by the child to-night.\"\n\nIn the evening he came to the nursery, and there at midnight the dead\nqueen appeared, and said--\n\n    \"How is my baby? How is my roe?\n    I can come but once more, then for ever must go;\"\n\nand nursed and fondled the baby as before, then vanished. The king did\nnot dare to address her, but watched again the following night. This\ntime she said--\n\n    \"How is my baby? How is my roe?\n    I can come but this once, then for ever must go.\"\n\nUpon which the king could no longer contain himself, but sprang\nforward and cried, \"Thou canst surely be no one but my own dear wife!\"\n\nShe replied, \"Yes, I am thy dear wife;\" and as soon as she had spoken\nthese words she was restored to life, and became once more fresh and\nblooming.\n\nThen she related to the king the crime committed on her by the old\nwitch and her ugly daughter, whom he at once commanded to be brought\nto judgment, and had sentence passed upon them. The daughter was taken\nforth into the woods, where the wild beasts tore her in pieces, and\nthe witch was burnt. And behold! as soon as there was nothing left of\nher but ashes, the white roe became changed again and resumed his\nhuman form; so they all lived happily together till the end of their\nlives.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE RED-RIDING-HOOD.\n\n\nOnce there was a little village maiden, the prettiest ever seen. Her\nmother was foolishly fond of her, and her grandmother likewise. The\nold woman made for her a little hood, which became the damsel so well,\nthat ever after she went by the name of Little Red-Riding-Hood. One\nday, when her mother was making cakes, she said, \"My child, you shall\ngo and see your grandmother, for I hear she is not well; and you shall\ntake her some of these cakes, and a pot of butter.\"\n\nLittle Red-Riding-Hood was delighted to go, though it was a long walk;\nbut she was a good child, and fond of her kind grandmother. Passing\nthrough a wood, she met a great wolf, who was most eager to eat her\nup, but dared not, because of a woodcutter who was busy hard by. So he\nonly came and asked her politely where she was going. The poor child,\nwho did not know how dangerous it is to stop and speak to wolves,\nreplied, \"I am going to see my grandmother, and to take her a cake and\na pot of butter, which my mother has sent her.\"\n\n\"Is it very far from hence?\" asked the wolf.\n\n\"Oh yes, it is just above the mill which you may see up there--the\nfirst house you come to in the village.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the wolf, \"I will go there also, to inquire after your\nexcellent grandmother; I will go one way, and you the other, and we\nwill see who can be there first.\"\n\nSo he ran as fast as ever he could, taking the shortest road, but the\nlittle maiden took the longest; for she stopped to pluck roses in the\nwood, to chase butterflies, and gather nosegays of the prettiest\nflowers she could find--she was such a happy and innocent little soul.\n\nThe wolf was not long in reaching the grand-mother's door. He knocked,\nToc--toc, and the grandmother said, \"Who is there?\"\n\n\"It is your child, Little Red-Riding-Hood,\" replied the wicked beast,\nimitating the girl's voice; \"I bring you a cake and a pot of butter,\nwhich my mother has sent you.\"\n\nThe grandmother, who was ill in her bed, said, \"Very well, my dear,\npull the string and the latch will open.\" The wolf pulled the\nstring--the door flew open; he leaped in, fell upon the poor old\nwoman, and ate her up in less than no time, tough as she was, for he\nhad not tasted anything for more than three days. Then he carefully\nshut the door, and laying himself down snugly in the bed, waited for\nLittle Red-Riding-Hood, who was not long before she came and knocked,\nToc--toc, at the door.\n\n\"Who is there?\" said the wolf; and the little maiden, hearing his\ngruff voice, felt sure that her poor grandmother must have caught a\nbad cold and be very ill indeed.\n\nSo she answered cheerfully, \"It is your child, Little\nRed-Riding-Hood, who brings you a cake and a pot of butter that my\nmother has sent you.\"\n\nThen the wolf, softening his voice as much as he could, said, \"Pull\nthe string, and the latch will open.\"\n\nSo Little Red-Riding-Hood pulled the string and the door opened. The\nwolf, seeing her enter, hid himself as much as he could under the\ncover-lid of the bed, and said in a whisper, \"Put the cake and the pot\nof butter on the shelf, and then make haste and come to bed, for it is\nvery late.\"\n\nLittle Red-Riding-Hood did not think so; but, to please her\ngrandmother, she undressed herself and began to get ready for bed,\nwhen she was very much astonished to find how different the old woman\nlooked from ordinary.\n\n\"Grandmother, what great arms you have!\"\n\n\"That is to hug you the better, my dear.\"\n\n\"Grandmother, what great ears you have!\"\n\n\"That is to hear you the better, my dear.\"\n\n\"Grandmother, what great eyes you have!\"\n\n\"That is to see you the better, my dear.\"\n\n\"Grandmother, what a great mouth you have!\"\n\n\"That is to eat you up,\" cried the wicked wolf; and immediately he\nfell upon poor Little Red-Riding-Hood, and ate her up in a moment.\n\n\n\n\nPUSS IN BOOTS.\n\n\nA Miller, dying, divided all his property between his three children.\nThis was a very simple matter, as he had nothing to leave but his\nmill, his ass, and his cat; so he made no will, and called in no\nlawyer, who would, probably, have taken a large slice out of these\npoor possessions. The eldest son took the mill, the second the ass,\nwhile the third was obliged to content himself with the cat, at which\nhe grumbled very much. \"My brothers,\" said he, \"by putting their\nproperty together, may gain an honest livelihood, but there is nothing\nleft for me except to die of hunger; unless, indeed, I were to kill my\ncat and eat him, and make a coat out of his skin, which would be very\nscanty clothing.\"\n\nThe cat, who heard the young man talking to himself, sat up on his\nfour paws, and looking at him with a grave and wise air, said,\n\"Master, I think you had better not kill me; I shall be much more\nuseful to you alive.\"\n\n\"How so?\" asked his master.\n\n\"You have but to give me a sack, and a pair of boots such as gentlemen\nwear when they go shooting, and you will find you are not so ill off\nas you suppose.\"\n\nNow, though the young miller did not much depend upon the cat's words,\nstill he thought it rather surprising that a cat should speak at all.\nAnd he had before now seen him show so much adroitness and cleverness\nin catching rats and mice, that it seemed advisable to trust him a\nlittle farther, especially as, poor young fellow! he had nobody else\nto trust.\n\nWhen the cat got his boots, he drew them on with a grand air, and\nslinging his sack over his shoulder, and drawing the cords of it round\nhis neck, he marched bravely to a rabbit-warren hard by, with which he\nwas well acquainted. Then, putting some bran and lettuces into his\nbag, and stretching himself out beside it as if he were dead, he\nwaited till some fine fat young rabbit, ignorant of the wickedness and\ndeceit of the world, should peer into the sack to eat the food that\nwas inside. This happened very shortly, for there are plenty of\nfoolish young rabbits in every warren; and when one of them, who\nreally was a splendid fat fellow, put his head inside, Master Puss\ndrew the cords immediately, and took him and killed him without mercy.\nThen, very proud of his prey, he marched direct up to the palace, and\nbegged to speak with the king. He was desired to ascend to the\napartments of his majesty, where, making a low bow, he said,\n\n\"Sire, here is a magnificent rabbit, killed in the warren which\nbelongs to my lord the Marquis of Carabas, and which he has desired me\nto offer humbly to your majesty.\"\n\n\"Tell your master,\" replied the king, politely, \"that I accept his\npresent, and am very much obliged to him.\"\n\nAnother time, Puss went and hid himself and his sack in a wheat-field,\nand there caught two splendid fat partridges in the same manner as he\nhad done the rabbit. When he presented them to the king, with a\nsimilar message as before, his majesty was so pleased that he ordered\nthe cat to be taken down into the kitchen and given something to eat\nand drink; where, while enjoying himself, the faithful animal did not\ncease to talk in the most cunning way of the large preserves and\nabundant game which belonged to my lord the Marquis of Carabas.\n\nOne day, hearing that the king was intending to take a drive along the\nriver-side with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the\nworld, Puss said to his master, \"Sir, if you would only follow my\nadvice, your fortune is made.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said the miller's son, who was growing very disconsolate,\nand cared little what he did: \"Say your say, cat.\"\n\n\"It is but little,\" replied Puss, looking wise, as cats can. \"You have\nonly to go and bathe in the river, at a place which I shall show you,\nand leave all the rest to me. Only remember that you are no longer\nyourself, but my lord the Marquis of Carabas.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" said the miller's son; \"it's all the same to me;\" but he\ndid as the cat told him.\n\nWhile he was bathing, the king and all the court passed by, and were\nstartled to hear loud cries of \"Help, help! my lord the Marquis of\nCarabas is drowning.\" The king put his head out of the carriage, and\nsaw nobody but the cat, who had, at different times, brought him so\nmany presents of game; however, he ordered his guards to fly quickly\nto the succour of my lord the Marquis of Carabas. While they were\npulling the unfortunate marquis out of the water, the cat came up,\nbowing, to the side of the king's carriage, and told a long and\npitiful story about some thieves, who, while his master was bathing,\nhad come and carried away all his clothes, so that it would be\nimpossible for him to appear before his majesty and the illustrious\nprincess.\n\n\"Oh, we will soon remedy that,\" answered the king, kindly; and\nimmediately ordered one of the first officers of the household to ride\nback to the palace with all speed, and bring back the most elegant\nsupply of clothes for the young gentleman, who kept in the background\nuntil they arrived. Then, being handsome and well-made, his new\nclothes became him so well, that he looked as if he had been a marquis\nall his days, and advanced with an air of respectful ease to offer his\nthanks to his majesty.\n\nThe king received him courteously, and the princess admired him very\nmuch. Indeed, so charming did he appear to her, that she hinted to her\nfather to invite him into the carriage with them, which, you may be\nsure, the young man did not refuse. The cat, delighted at the success\nof his scheme, went away as fast as he could, and ran so swiftly that\nhe kept a long way ahead of the royal carriage. He went on and on,\ntill he came to some peasants who were mowing in a meadow. \"Good\npeople,\" said he, in a very firm voice, \"the king is coming past here\nshortly, and if you do not say that the field you are mowing belongs\nto my lord the Marquis of Carabas, you shall all be chopped as small\nas mince-meat.\"\n\nSo when the king drove by, and asked whose meadow it was where there\nwas such a splendid crop of hay, the mowers all answered, trembling,\nthat it belonged to my lord the Marquis of Carabas.\n\n\"You have very fine land, Marquis,\" said his majesty to the miller's\nson; who bowed, and answered \"that it was not a bad meadow, take it\naltogether.\"\n\nThen the cat came to a wheat-field, where the reapers were reaping\nwith all their might. He bounded in upon them: \"The king is coming\npast to-day, and if you do not tell him that this wheat belongs to my\nlord the Marquis of Carabas, I will have you every one chopped as\nsmall as mince-meat.\" The reapers, very much alarmed, did as they were\nbid, and the king congratulated the Marquis upon possessing such\nbeautiful fields, laden with such an abundant harvest.\n\nThey drove on--the cat always running before and saying the same thing\nto everybody he met, that they were to declare the whole country\nbelonged to his master; so that even the king was astonished at the\nvast estate of my lord the Marquis of Carabas.\n\nBut now the cat arrived at a great castle where dwelt an Ogre, to whom\nbelonged all the land through which the royal equipage had been\ndriving. He was a cruel tyrant, and his tenants and servants were\nterribly afraid of him, which accounted for their being so ready to\nsay whatever they were told to say by the cat, who had taken pains to\ninform himself of all about the Ogre. So, putting on the boldest face\nhe could assume, Puss marched up to the castle with his boots on, and\nasked to see the owner of it, saying that he was on his travels, but\ndid not wish to pass so near the castle of such a noble gentleman\nwithout paying his respects to him. When the Ogre heard this message,\nhe went to the door, received the cat as civilly as an Ogre can, and\nbegged him to walk in and repose himself.\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" said the cat; \"but first I hope you will satisfy a\ntraveller's curiosity. I have heard in far countries of your many\nremarkable qualities, and especially how you have the power to change\nyourself into any sort of beast you choose--a lion for instance, or an\nelephant.\"\n\n\"That is quite true,\" replied the Ogre; \"and lest you should doubt it,\nI will immediately become a lion.\"\n\nHe did so; and the cat was so frightened that he sprang up to the roof\nof the castle and hid himself in the gutter--a proceeding rather\ninconvenient on account of his boots, which were not exactly fitted to\nwalk with upon tiles. At length, perceiving that the Ogre had resumed\nhis original form, he came down again stealthily, and confessed that\nhe had been very much frightened.\n\n\"But, sir,\" said he, \"it may be easy enough for such a big gentleman\nas you to change himself into a large animal: I do not suppose you\ncan become a small one--a rat or mouse for instance. I have heard\nthat you can; still, for my part, I consider it quite impossible.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" cried the other, indignantly. \"You shall see!\" and\nimmediately the cat saw the Ogre no longer, but a little mouse running\nalong on the floor.\n\nThis was exactly what he wanted; and he did the very best a cat could\ndo, and the most natural under the circumstances--he sprang upon the\nmouse and gobbled it up in a trice. So there was an end of the Ogre.\n\nBy this time the king had arrived opposite the castle, and was seized\nwith a strong desire to enter it. The cat, hearing the noise of the\ncarriage-wheels, ran forward in a great hurry, and standing at the\ngate, said in a loud voice, \"Welcome, sire, to the castle of my lord\nthe Marquis of Carabas.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried his majesty, very much surprised, \"does the castle also\nbelong to you? Truly, Marquis, you have kept your secret well up to\nthe last minute. I have never seen anything finer than this courtyard\nand these battlements. Indeed, I have nothing like them in the whole\nof my dominions.\"\n\nThe Marquis, without speaking, offered his hand to the princess to\nassist her to descend, and, standing aside that the king might enter\nfirst--for he had already acquired all the manners of a\ncourt--followed his majesty to the great hall, where a magnificent\ncollation was laid out, and where, without more delay, they all sat\ndown to feast.\n\nBefore the banquet was over, the king, charmed with the good qualities\nof the Marquis of Carabas--and likewise with his wine, of which he had\ndrunk six or seven cups--said, bowing across the table at which the\nprincess and the miller's son were talking very confidentially\ntogether, \"It rests with you, Marquis, whether you will not become my\nson-in-law.\"\n\n\"I shall be only too happy,\" said the complaisant Marquis, and the\nprincess's cast-down eyes declared the same.\n\nSo they were married the very next day, and took possession of the\nOgre's castle, and of everything that had belonged to him.\n\nAs for the cat, he became at once a grand personage, and had never\nmore any need to run after mice, except for his own diversion.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOLF\n\nAND\n\nThe Seven Young Goslings.\n\n\nThere was once an old goose who had seven young goslings, and loved\nthem as only a mother can love her children. One day she was going\ninto the wood to seek for provender, and before setting off she called\nall seven to her and said, \"Dear children, I am obliged to go into the\nwood, so be on your guard against the wolf; for if he gets in here he\nwill eat you up, feathers, skin, and all. The villain often disguises\nhimself, but you can easily recognise him by his rough voice and black\npaws.\"\n\nThe children answered, \"Dear mother, we will take great care; you may\ngo without any anxiety.\" So the old lady was comforted, and set off\ncheerfully for the wood.\n\nBefore long, some one knocked at the door, and cried, \"Open, open, my\ndear children; your mother is here, and has brought something for each\nof you.\"\n\nBut the goslings soon perceived, by the rough voice, that it was the\nwolf. \"We will not open,\" said they; \"you are not our mother, for she\nhas a sweet and lovely voice; but your voice is rough--you are the\nwolf.\"\n\nThereupon the wolf set off to a merchant and bought a large lump of\nchalk; he ate it, and it made his voice sweet. Back he came, knocked\nat the door, and cried, \"Open, open, my dear children; your mother is\nhere, and has brought something for each of you.\"\n\nBut the wolf had laid his black paw on the window-sill, and when the\nchildren saw it, they cried, \"We will not open; our mother has not\nblack feet like you--you are the wolf.\"\n\nSo the wolf ran off to the baker, and said, \"I have hurt my foot, put\nsome dough on it.\" And when the baker had plastered it with dough, the\nwolf went to the miller and cried, \"Strew some meal on my paws.\" But\nthe miller thought to himself, \"The wolf wants to deceive some one,\"\nand he hesitated to do it; till the wolf said, \"If you don't do it at\nonce, I will eat you up.\" So the miller was afraid and made his paws\nwhite. Such is the way of the world!\n\nNow came the rogue back for the third time, knocked and said, \"Open\nthe door, dear children; your mother has come home, and has brought\nsomething for each of you out of the wood.\"\n\nThe little goslings cried, \"Show us your paws first, that we may see\nwhether you are indeed our mother.\" So he laid his paws on the\nwindow-sill, and when the goslings saw that they were white, they\nbelieved it was all right, and opened the door; and who should come in\nbut the wolf!\n\nThey screamed out and tried to hide themselves; one jumped under the\ntable, another into the bed, the third into the oven; the fourth ran\ninto the kitchen, the fifth hopped into a chest, the sixth under the\nwash-tub, and the seventh got into the clock-case. But the wolf seized\nthem, and stood on no ceremony with them; one after another he gobbled\nthem all up, except the youngest, who being in the clock-case he\ncouldn't find. When the wolf had eaten his fill, he strolled forth,\nlaid himself down in the green meadow under a tree, and went fast\nasleep.\n\nNot long after, back came the old goose home from the wood; but what,\nalas! did she see? The house-door stood wide open; table, chairs,\nbenches, were all overthrown; the wash-tub lay in the ashes; blankets\nand pillows were torn off the bed. She looked for her children, but\nnowhere could she find them; she called them each by name, but nobody\nanswered. At last, when she came to the youngest, a little squeaking\nvoice answered, \"Dear mother, I am in the clock-case.\" She pulled him\nout, and he told her how the wolf had come and had eaten up all the\nothers. You may think how she wept for her dear children.\n\nAt last, in her grief, she went out, and the youngest gosling ran\nbeside her. And when she came to the meadow there lay the wolf under\nthe tree, snoring till the boughs shook. She walked round and examined\nhim on all sides, till she perceived that something was moving and\nkicking about inside him.\n\n\"Can it be,\" thought she, \"that my poor children whom he has swallowed\nfor his supper are yet alive?\" So she sent the little gosling back to\nthe house for scissors, needle, and thread, and began to slit up the\nmonster's stomach. Scarcely had she given one snip, when out came the\nhead of a gosling, and when she had cut a little further, the six\njumped out one after another, not having taken the least hurt, because\nthe greedy monster had swallowed them down whole. That was a joy! They\nembraced their mother tenderly, and skipped about as lively as a\ntailor at his wedding.\n\nBut the old goose said, \"Now go and find me six large stones, which we\nwill put inside the greedy beast while he is still asleep.\" So the\ngoslings got the stones in all haste, and they put them inside the\nwolf; and the old goose sewed him up again in a great hurry, while he\nnever once moved nor took any notice.\n\nNow when the wolf at last woke up and got upon his legs, he found he\nwas very thirsty, and wished to go to the spring to drink. But as soon\nas he began to move the stones began to shake and rattle inside him,\ntill he cried,--\n\n    \"What's this rumbling and tumbling,\n       What's this rattling like bones?\n     I thought I had eaten six little geese,\n       But they've turned out only stones.\"\n\nAnd when he came to the spring and bent down his head to drink, the\nheavy stones overbalanced him, and in he went head over heels. Now\nwhen the seven goslings saw this, they came running up, crying\nloudly, \"The wolf is dead, the wolf is dead!\" and danced for joy all\nround the spring, and their mother with them.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAIR ONE WITH GOLDEN LOCKS.\n\n\nThere was once a king's daughter so beautiful that they named her the\nFair One with Golden Locks. These golden locks were the most\nremarkable in the world, soft and fine, and falling in long waves down\nto her very feet. She wore them always thus, loose and flowing,\nsurmounted with a wreath of flowers; and though such long hair was\nsometimes rather inconvenient, it was so exceedingly beautiful,\nshining in the sun like ripples of molten gold, that everybody agreed\nshe fully deserved her name.\n\nNow there was a young king of a neighbouring country, very handsome,\nvery rich, and wanting nothing but a wife to make him happy. He heard\nso much of the various perfections of the Fair One with Golden Locks,\nthat at last, without even seeing her, he fell in love with her so\ndesperately that he could neither eat nor drink, and resolved to send\nan ambassador at once to demand her in marriage. So he ordered a\nmagnificent equipage--more than a hundred horses and a hundred\nfootmen--in order to bring back to him the Fair One with Golden Locks,\nwho, he never doubted, would be only too happy to become his queen.\nIndeed, he felt so sure of her that he refurnished the whole palace,\nand had made, by all the dressmakers of the city, dresses enough to\nlast a lady for a lifetime. But, alas! when the ambassador arrived and\ndelivered his message, either the princess was in a bad humor, or the\noffer did not appear to be to her taste; for she returned her best\nthanks to his majesty, but said she had not the slightest wish or\nintention to be married. She also, being a prudent damsel, declined\nreceiving any of the presents which the king had sent her; except\nthat, not quite to offend his majesty, she retained a box of English\npins, which were in that country of considerable value.\n\nWhen the ambassador returned, alone and unsuccessful, all the court\nwas very much affected, and the king himself began to weep with all\nhis might. Now, there was in the palace household a young gentleman\nnamed Avenant, beautiful as the sun, besides being at once so amiable\nand so wise that the king confided to him all his affairs; and every\none loved him, except those people--to be found in all courts--who\nwere envious of his good fortune. These malicious folk hearing him say\ngaily, \"If the king had sent me to fetch the Fair One with Golden\nLocks, I know she would have come back with me,\" repeated the saying\nin such a manner, that it appeared as if Avenant thought so much of\nhimself and his beauty, and felt sure the princess would have followed\nhim all over the world; which when it came to the ears of the king, as\nit was meant to do, irritated him so much that he commanded Avenant to\nbe imprisoned in a high tower, and left to die there of hunger. The\nguards accordingly carried off the young man, who had quite forgotten\nhis idle speech, and had not the least idea what fault he had\ncommitted. They ill-treated him very much, and then left him, with\nnothing to eat and only water to drink. This, however, kept him alive\nfor a few days, during which he did not cease to complain aloud, and\nto call upon the king, saying, \"O king, what harm have I done? You\nhave no subject more faithful than I. Never have I had a thought which\ncould offend you.\"\n\nAnd it so befell that the king, coming by chance, or else with a sort\nof remorse, past the tower, was touched by the voice of the young\nAvenant, whom he had once so much regarded. In spite of all the\ncourtiers could do to prevent him, he stopped to listen, and overheard\nthese words. The tears rushed into his eyes; he opened the door of the\ntower, and called, \"Avenant!\" Avenant came, creeping feebly along,\nfell at the king's knees, and kissed his feet:\n\n\"O sire, what have I done that you should treat me so cruelly?\"\n\n\"You have mocked me and my ambassador; for you said, if I had sent you\nto fetch the Fair One with Golden Locks, you would have been\nsuccessful and brought her back.\"\n\n\"I did say it, and it was true,\" replied Avenant fearlessly; \"for I\nshould have told her so much about your majesty and your various high\nqualities, which no one knows so well as myself, that I am persuaded\nshe would have returned with me.\"\n\n\"I believe it,\" said the king, with an angry look at those who had\nspoken ill of his favourite; he then gave Avenant a free pardon, and\ntook him back with him to the court.\n\nAfter having supplied the famished youth with as much supper as he\ncould eat, the king admitted him to a private audience, and said, \"I\nam as much in love as ever with the Fair One with Golden Locks, so I\nwill take thee at thy word, and send thee to try and win her for me.\"\n\n\"Very well, please your majesty,\" replied Avenant cheerfully; \"I will\ndepart to-morrow.\"\n\nThe king, overjoyed with his willingness and hopefulness, would have\nfurnished him with a still more magnificent equipage and suite than\nthe first ambassador; but Avenant refused to take anything except a\ngood horse to ride, and letters of introduction to the princess's\nfather. The king embraced him and eagerly saw him depart.\n\nIt was on a Monday morning when, without any pomp or show, Avenant\nthus started on his mission. He rode slowly and meditatively,\npondering over every possible means of persuading the Fair One with\nGolden Locks to marry the king; but, even after several days' journey\ntowards her country, no clear project had entered into his mind. One\nmorning, when he had started at break of day, he came to a great\nmeadow with a stream running through it, along which were planted\nwillows and poplars. It was such a pleasant, rippling stream that he\ndismounted and sat down on its banks. There he perceived, gasping on\nthe grass, a large golden carp, which, in leaping too far after gnats,\nhad thrown itself quite out of the water, and now lay dying on the\ngreensward. Avenant took pity on it, and though he was very hungry,\nand the fish was very fat, and he would well enough have liked it for\nhis breakfast, still he lifted it gently and put it back into the\nstream. No sooner had the carp touched the fresh cool water than it\nrevived and swam away; but shortly returning, it spoke to him from the\nwater in this wise:--\n\n\"Avenant, I thank you for your good deed. I was dying, and you have\nsaved me: I will recompense you for this one day.\"\n\nAfter this pretty little speech, the fish popped down to the bottom of\nthe stream, according to the habit of carp, leaving Avenant very much\nastonished, as was natural.\n\nAnother day he met with a raven that was in great distress, being\npursued by an eagle, which would have swallowed him up in no time.\n\"See,\" thought Avenant, \"how the stronger oppress the weaker! What\nright has an eagle to eat up a raven?\" So taking his bow and arrow,\nwhich he always carried, he shot the eagle dead, and the raven,\ndelighted, perched in safety on an opposite tree.\n\n\"Avenant,\" screeched he, though not in the sweetest voice in the\nworld; \"you have generously succoured me, a poor miserable raven. I\nam not ungrateful, and I will recompense you one day.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Avenant, and continued his road.\n\nEntering in a thick wood, so dark with the shadows of early morning\nthat he could scarcely find his way, he heard an owl hooting, like an\nowl in great tribulation. She had been caught by the nets spread by\nbirdcatchers to entrap finches, larks, and other small birds. \"What a\npity,\" thought Avenant, \"that men must always torment poor birds and\nbeasts who have done them no harm!\" So he took out his knife, cut the\nnet, and let the owl go free. She went sailing up into the air, but\nimmediately returned hovering over his head on her brown wings.\n\n\"Avenant,\" said she, \"at daylight the birdcatchers would have been\nhere, and I should have been caught and killed. I have a grateful\nheart; I will recompense you one day.\"\n\nThese were the three principal adventures that befell Avenant on his\nway to the kingdom of the Fair One with Golden Locks. Arrived there,\nhe dressed himself with the greatest care, in a habit of silver\nbrocade, and a hat adorned with plumes of scarlet and white. He threw\nover all a rich mantle, and carried a little basket, in which was a\nlovely little dog, an offering of respect to the princess. With this\nhe presented himself at the palace-gates, where, even though he came\nalone, his mien was so dignified and graceful, so altogether charming,\nthat every one did him reverence, and was eager to run and tell the\nFair One with Golden Locks, that Avenant another ambassador from the\nking her suitor, awaited an audience.\n\n\"Avenant!\" repeated the princess, \"That is a pretty name; perhaps the\nyouth is pretty too.\"\n\n\"So beautiful,\" said the ladies of honour, \"that while he stood under\nthe palace-window we could do nothing but look at him.\"\n\n\"How silly of you!\" sharply said the princess. But she desired them to\nbring her robe of blue satin to comb out her long hair, and adorn it\nwith the freshest garland of flowers; to give her her high-heeled\nshoes, and her fan. \"Also,\" added she, \"take care that my\naudience-chamber is well swept and my throne well dusted. I wish in\neverything to appear as becomes the Fair One with Golden Locks.\"\n\nThis done, she seated herself on her throne of ivory and ebony, and\ngave orders for her musicians to play, but softly, so as not to\ndisturb conversation. Thus, shining in all her beauty, she admitted\nAvenant to her presence.\n\nHe was so dazzled that at first he could not speak: then he began and\ndelivered his harangue to perfection.\n\n\"Gentle Avenant,\" returned the princess, after listening to all his\nreasons for her returning with him, \"your arguments are very strong,\nand I am inclined to listen to them; but you must first find for me a\nring, which I dropped into the river about a month ago. Until I\nrecover it, I can listen to no propositions of marriage.\"\n\nAvenant, surprised and disturbed, made her a profound reverence and\nretired, taking with him the basket and the little dog Cabriole, which\nshe refused to accept. All night long he sat sighing to himself, \"How\ncan I ever find a ring which she dropped into the river a month ago?\nShe has set me an impossibility.\"\n\n\"My dear master,\" said Cabriole, \"nothing is an impossibility to one\nso young and charming as you are: let us go at daybreak to the\nriver-side.\"\n\nAvenant patted him, but replied nothing: until, worn out with grief,\nhe slept. Before dawn Cabriole wakened him, saying, \"Master, dress\nyourself and let us go to the river.\"\n\nThere Avenant walked up and down, with his arms folded and his head\nbent, but saw nothing. At last he heard a voice, calling from a\ndistance, \"Avenant, Avenant!\"\n\nThe little dog ran to the water-side--\"Never believe me again, master,\nif it is not a golden carp with a ring in its mouth!\"\n\n\"Yes, Avenant,\" said the carp, \"this is the ring which the princess\nhas lost. You saved my life in the willow meadow, and I have\nrecompensed you. Farewell!\"\n\nAvenant took the ring gratefully and returned to the palace with\nCabriole, who scampered about in great glee. Craving an audience, he\npresented the princess with her ring, and begged her to accompany him\nto his master's kingdom. She took the ring, looked at it, and thought\nshe was surely dreaming.\n\n\"Some fairy must have assisted you, fortunate Avenant,\" said she.\n\n\"Madam, I am only fortunate in my desire to obey your wishes.\"\n\n\"Obey me still,\" she said graciously. \"There is a prince named\nGalifron, whose suit I have refused. He is a giant as tall as a tower,\nwho eats a man as a monkey eats a nut: he puts cannons into his\npockets instead of pistols; and when he speaks, his voice is so loud\nthat every one near him becomes deaf. Go and fight him, and bring me\nhis head.\"\n\nAvenant was thunderstruck; but after a time he recovered\nhimself--\"Very well, madam. I shall certainly perish, but I will\nperish like a brave man. I will depart at once to fight the Giant\nGalifron.\"\n\nThe princess, now in her turn surprised and alarmed, tried every\npersuasion to induce him not to go, but in vain. Avenant armed himself\nand started, carrying his little dog in its basket. Cabriole was the\nonly creature that gave him consolation: \"Courage, master! While you\nattack the giant, I will bite his legs: he will stoop down to strike\nme, and then you can knock him on the head.\" Avenant smiled at the\nlittle dog's spirit, but he knew it was useless.\n\nArrived at the castle of Galifron, he found the road all strewn with\nbones, and carcases of men. Soon he saw the giant walking. His head\nwas level with the highest trees, and he sang in a terrific voice--\n\n    \"Bring me babies to devour;\n    More--more--more--more--\n    Men and women, tender and tough;\n    All the world holds not enough.\"\n\nTo which Avenant replied, imitating the tune--\n\n    \"Avenant you here may see,\n    He is come to punish thee:\n    Be he tender, be he tough,\n    To kill thee, giant, he is enough.\"\n\nHearing these words, the giant took up his massive club, looked around\nfor the singer, and, perceiving him, would have slain him on the spot,\nhad not a raven, sitting on a tree close by, suddenly flown out upon\nhim and picked out both his eyes. Then Avenant easily killed him and\ncut off his head, while the raven, watching him, said--\n\n\"You shot the eagle who was pursuing me: I promised to recompense you,\nand to-day I have done it. We are quits.\"\n\n\"No, it is I who am your debtor, Sir Raven,\" replied Avenant, as,\nhanging the frightful head to his saddle-bow, he mounted his horse and\nrode back to the city of the Fair One with Golden Locks.\n\nThere everybody followed him, shouting, \"Here is brave Avenant, who\nhas killed the giant,\" until the princess, hearing the noise, and\nfearing it was Avenant himself who was killed, appeared, all\ntrembling; and even when he appeared with Galifron's head, she\ntrembled still, although she had nothing to fear.\n\n\"Madam,\" said Avenant, \"your enemy is dead: so I trust you will accept\nthe hand of the king my master.\"\n\n\"I cannot,\" replied she thoughtfully, \"unless you first bring me a\nphial of the water in the Grotto of Darkness. It is six leagues in\nlength, and guarded at the entrance by two fiery dragons. Within it is\na pit, full of scorpions, lizards, and serpents, and at the bottom of\nthis place flows the Fountain of Beauty and Health. All who wash in it\nbecome, if ugly, beautiful, and if beautiful, beautiful for ever; if\nold, young; and if young, young for ever. Judge then, Avenant, if I\ncan quit my kingdom without carrying with me some of this miraculous\nwater.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied Avenant, \"you are already so beautiful that you\nrequire it not; but I am an unfortunate ambassador whose death you\ndesire: I will obey you, though I know I shall never return.\"\n\nSo he departed with his only friends--his horse and his faithful dog\nCabriole; while all who met him looked at him compassionately, pitying\nso pretty a youth bound on such a hopeless errand. But, however kindly\nthey addressed him, Avenant rode on and answered nothing, for he was\ntoo sad at heart.\n\nHe reached a mountain-side, where he sat down to rest, leaving his\nhorse to graze, and Cabriole to run after the flies. He knew that the\nGrotto of Darkness was not far off, yet he looked about him like one\nwho sees nothing. At last he perceived a rock, as black as ink, whence\ncame a thick smoke; and in a moment appeared one of the two dragons,\nbreathing out flames. It had a yellow and green body, claws, and a\nlong tail. When Cabriole saw the monster, the poor little dog hid\nhimself in terrible fright. But Avenant resolved to die bravely; so,\ntaking a phial which the princess had given him, he prepared to\ndescend into the cave.\n\n\"Cabriole,\" said he, \"I shall soon be dead: then fill this phial with\nmy blood, and carry it to the Fair One with Golden Locks, and\nafterwards to the king my master, to show him I have been faithful to\nthe last.\"\n\nWhile he was thus speaking, a voice called, \"Avenant, Avenant!\"--and\nhe saw an owl sitting on a hollow tree. Said the owl: \"You cut the net\nin which I was caught, and I vowed to recompense you. Now is the time.\nGive me the phial: I know every corner of the Grotto of Darkness--I\nwill fetch you the water of beauty.\"\n\nDelighted beyond words, Avenant delivered up his phial; the owl flew\nwith it into the grotto, and in less than half-an-hour reappeared,\nbringing it quite full and well corked. Avenant thanked her with all\nhis heart, and joyfully took once more the road to the city.\n\nThe Fair One with Golden Locks had no more to say. She consented to\naccompany him back, with all her suite, to his master's court. On the\nway thither, she saw so much of him, and found him so charming, that\nAvenant might have married her himself had he chosen; but he would not\nhave been false to his master for all the beauties under the sun. At\nlength they arrived at the king's city, and the Fair One with Golden\nLocks became his spouse and queen. But she still loved Avenant in her\nheart, and often said to the king her lord--\"But for Avenant I should\nnot be here; he has done all sorts of impossible deeds for my sake; he\nhas fetched me the water of beauty, and I shall never grow old--in\nshort, I owe him everything.\"\n\nAnd she praised him in this sort so much, that at length the king\nbecame jealous; and though Avenant gave him not the slightest cause of\noffence, he shut him up in the same high tower once more--but with\nirons on his hands and feet, and a cruel jailer besides, who fed him\nwith bread and water only. His sole companion was his little dog\nCabriole.\n\nWhen the Fair One with Golden Locks heard of this, she reproached her\nhusband for his ingratitude, and then, throwing herself at his knees,\nimplored that Avenant might be set free. But the king only said, \"She\nloves him!\" and refused her prayer. The queen entreated no more, but\nfell into a deep melancholy.\n\nWhen the king saw it, he thought she did not care for him because he\nwas not handsome enough; and that if he could wash his face with her\nwater of beauty, it would make her love him more. He knew that she\nkept it in a cabinet in her chamber, where she could find it always.\n\nNow it happened that a waiting-maid, in cleaning out this cabinet,\nhad, the very day before knocked down the phial, which was broken in a\nthousand pieces, and all the contents were lost. Very much alarmed,\nshe then remembered seeing, in a cabinet belonging to the king, a\nsimilar phial. This she fetched, and put in the place of the other\none, in which was the water of beauty. But the king's phial contained\nthe water of death. It was a poison, used to destroy great\ncriminals--that is, noblemen, gentlemen, and such like. Instead of\nhanging them or cutting their heads off, like common people, they were\ncompelled to wash their faces with this water; upon which they fell\nasleep, and woke no more. So it happened that the king, taking up this\nphial, believing it to be the water of beauty, washed his face with\nit, fell asleep, and--died.\n\nCabriole heard the news, and, gliding in and out among the crowd which\nclustered round the young and lovely widow, whispered softly to\nher--\"Madam, do not forget poor Avenant.\" If she had been disposed to\ndo so, the sight of his little dog would have been enough to remind\nher of him--his many sufferings, and his great fidelity. She rose up,\nwithout speaking to anybody, and went straight to the tower where\nAvenant was confined. There, with her own hands, she struck off his\nchains, and putting a crown of gold on his head, and a purple mantle\non his shoulders, said to him, \"Be king--and my husband.\"\n\nAvenant could not refuse; for in his heart he had loved her all the\ntime. He threw himself at her feet, and then took the crown and\nsceptre, and ruled her kingdom like a king. All the people were\ndelighted to have him as their sovereign. The marriage was celebrated\nin all imaginable pomp, and Avenant and the Fair One with Golden Locks\nlived and reigned happily together all their days.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BUTTERFLY.\n\n\nIn the time of the illustrious Merinous, it was indeed a pleasure to\nbe a king; the laws were just, the people obedient, and peace was over\nthe land. This monarch would have been the happiest of men, but for\nthe continual complaints of his consort, which tore his very heart in\ntwain. She wept continually for her daughters, nineteen of whom had\nperished in the flower of youth. The Fairy of the Fountain had\npromised a twentieth; but years passed away in fruitless expectation.\n\"You have neglected to do the fairy sufficient homage,\" said the king\none day; \"I shall give orders to conduct you to the foot of the\nmountain with pomp and splendour. But when arrived there the mountain\nitself must be climbed on foot, with many fatigues: most women would\nrather die childless than encounter them.\"\n\n\"Courage shall not be wanting on my part,\" said the queen, \"and I wish\nto set out immediately.\"\n\nThe king kissed her forehead, bade her good-night, and fell asleep.\n\nAt early dawn appeared in the grand court of the palace an equipage,\ndazzling as the sun itself; the wheels were of massy gold, with\nemerald nails, which sparkled in the light. It was drawn by forty-two\nhorses, white as snow, whose reins were of rose-coloured satin, the\nfashion of that period. They snorted impatiently, striking fire from\nthe pavement beneath their feet; their eyes were inflamed; their bits\ncovered with foam, and their proud and triumphant air seemed already\nto announce the success of the queen's enterprise. Three thousand\nchevaliers, armed at all points and mounted on fiery coursers, wheeled\nabout the chariot, the air resounding with their joyful acclamations\nof--\"_Long live King Merinous and his august spouse!_\"\n\nThe queen saluted the people with the utmost grace and condescension,\nwhich caused such immoderate joy, that she was almost stifled by the\npressure of the crowd: but the guards gently kept them at a distance,\nand the procession passed on.\n\nWhen her majesty had reached the foot of the mountain, she alighted\nfrom her chariot, and, accompanied by only four maids-of-honour,\nproceeded on foot.\n\nThis mountain was formed of slippery earth, slightly covered over with\ngreen turf, but giving way at every step. The queen's pretty little\nwhite satin shoes were soon left behind; and her feet next stuck so\nfast that she could not withdraw them; her fair hands were in the same\nplight; she cried aloud for succour, fearing she should be completely\nburied alive.\n\nTurning then round to look for her maids-of-honour, she perceived that\nthey had fallen flat on their faces (the impression remains till this\nday), and were struggling, making the most desperate efforts, less in\nconsideration of their own danger than that of the queen. In fine,\nafter four hours and a half's patient perseverance they succeeded in\nregaining their feet; and strange to say, no mud or clay attached\nitself to their clothes; nothing worse than a slight shade of the\ngreen turf, which assumed the appearance of a gauze veil. The fairy\nthen, seeing the queen willing to overcome difficulties, would not try\nher further, but with one stroke of a wand reduced the mountain two or\nthree hundred feet; the remaining height was very dry and easy of\nascent.\n\nThe queen was thus conducted to a delicious grove: a coral fountain\nrose in the midst; its waters, of the purest rose-colour, wound along\nthe meadow, murmuring plaintive airs, whose words were perfectly\ndistinguishable. The fairy there welcomed her majesty, who prepared to\nexplain the occasion of her journey; but that was quite unnecessary.\nThe fairy, exacting profound secrecy, presented her with a phial of\nwater drawn from the fountain, strictly ordering that it should be\nbroken when she had drank it all. The queen, charmed by this\nreception, made presents of inestimable value, and rejoined her\nmaids-of-honour, who had been thrown into an enchanted sleep. They\nthen returned to the palace in such high spirits, that all the court\ndanced and sung for a month afterwards.\n\nIn due course her majesty became, for the twentieth time, a joyful\nmother.\n\nThe magnificence and liberality displayed on this occasion exceed\nbelief. The royal palace was surrounded by three hundred large spouts\nwhich poured forth alternately, night and day the choicest sweetmeats,\nconfectionery, and money; the streets, in fact, were filled--the\npassengers had only to stoop down and be satisfied.\n\nBut in the midst of these festivities the Fairy of the Fountain,\nuncovering the little princess's cradle, which was of mother-o'-pearl\nstudded with diamonds, perceived a beautiful butterfly, placed\nimmediately under the infant's left eye.\n\nThe chief cradle-rocker, who dreaded being taxed with negligence, took\na humming-bird's wing, and endeavoured to chase it away, but all in\nvain: it remained quite unconcerned in the same spot, extending its\nlarge wings of rose-colour and azure-blue on the face of the princess,\nappearing rather to caress than to wish to do her any injury. \"Ah!\"\nsaid the fairy, \"this butterfly is not what you imagine. It is a\npowerful fairy, who presides at the birth of the most distinguished\nprincesses, and endows them with a degree of levity which generally\nleads to misfortune. I can lessen the evil, without doubt, but I\ncannot entirely avert it.\" The queen wept bitterly at this sad news,\nand the king saw no person during eight days. He then ceased to think\non the subject.\n\nMisfortunes rarely enter into the speculations of kings. Masters of\nthe destinies of others, mankind flatter them into a belief that their\npower can almost control fate itself. Accordingly, the visit of the\nbutterfly did not produce much permanent inquietude. The\npoets-laureate and literati of the court turned it into numerous\nsentimental conceits; amongst others, that the insect had fastened on\nthe princess's cheek mistaking it for a rose. This idea branched out\ninto a hundred elegies, a thousand madrigals, and fifteen hundred\nsongs, which were sung in all the principal families, and adapted to\nairs, some already known, and others composed for the occasion.\n\nThe fairy frequently visited her little charge, but was unable to\nconquer her fickle disposition. Ten different nurses had already been\nobliged to give her up; she scratched them, bit them, and obstinately\nrefused to be fed. When she grew older, and began her education, she\nwas so easily wearied and vexed, that no one dared to contradict her.\nThe fairy was consulted; who made her smell at a very rare flower.\nThis produced a degree of intelligence so extraordinary, that in three\ndays she could read, write, speak all languages, and play on every\ninstrument after just twenty-three minutes' application.\n\nThe queen was now delighted, for the princess's talents were noised\nabroad equally with her beauty. She had scarcely attained the age of\nfourteen when many kings sought the honour of her hand. The good King\nMerinous was well stricken in years, and fondly desired to see\nPapillette established. All who seemed worthy of her received a\nfavourable reception, and amongst this number was the accomplished\nPrince Favourite. After he had been presented in due form, the old\nmonarch asked his daughter what she thought of their new guest.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the maiden, \"I have been brought up with too much\nmodesty and reserve to bestow attention on strangers of the other\nsex.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" returned the monarch; \"but merely regarding him as a\npicture, how has he appeared to you?\"\n\n\"Tall and handsome,\" answered Papillette, \"his chestnut hair clinging\nin close and crisping curls to his ivory brow; his eyes of\nviolet-blue, filled with soft vivacity; his teeth, of the most\nbrilliant white, divide lips of coral; his nose is perfect Grecian,\nand his limbs like the rarest statuary. I might say more, had I\nventured to look at the prince.\"\n\n\"It is enough,\" said the king; \"your first glance has shown you\nenough. I am delighted that you are so sensible to the merits of\nPrince Favourite, as I design him for your husband. Love him\naccordingly.\"\n\n\"Your majesty's commands are laws to your dutiful daughter,\" replied\nPapillette.\n\nOne may easily imagine with what magnificence preparations were made\nfor the nuptials; the king hastened them, lest his daughter's\nfickleness and levity might cause disappointment to their dearest\nhopes.\n\nPapillette one day, while steadily regarding her lover, who was\nkneeling before her, appeared struck by something which made an\nimpression as sudden as disagreeable. She repulsed Prince Favourite,\nsaying she was seized with a headache, and could not be troubled with\ncompany.\n\nThe lover submissively arose and went to seek the queen, beseeching\nher to find out what he had done, and to intercede in his favour. Her\nmajesty accordingly questioned the princess, who, bathed in tears,\nthrew herself into the arms of her mother, confessing that she had\nmade a discovery which totally altered her sentiments regarding the\nprince. \"Is it possible,\" added she, \"that you have not perceived his\nears, of so unusual a size, and a deep red colour?\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" cried the queen. \"In truth, I have not observed it; but\nto take notice of an imperfection so very trifling, would make us\nappear ridiculous indeed.\"\n\n\"People cannot help their feelings,\" replied Papillette; \"I have quite\na horror of red ears; it is little worth while to be daughter of a\ngreat king, if one must be crossed and thwarted in the most important\narrangement of life.\"\n\nThe queen reasoned long; but this only increased Papillette's\nresistance: therefore, being quite defenceless against the tears of a\nchild so dear, her majesty promised to speak to the king.\n\nMerinous was firm in all his resolutions; he therefore declared, that\nhis daughter should become the wife of Prince Favourite, whether she\nliked it or not.\n\nThe queen had not courage to impart this dreadful intelligence; but\nshe threw herself on the generosity of the prince, beseeching that he\nwould himself break the engagement--thus shielding Papillette from the\nresentment of the king.\n\nThe distracted lover was ready to die with grief: but promised to do\nall she requested. He asked but three days' grace.\n\nThe queen consented; and Prince Favourite then summoned Queseca, chief\nbarber to the king, \"Barber,\" said he, \"each country has its\nparticular prejudices--its own ideas of beauty; here I find large ears\nare deemed a deformity; therefore, I command thee to cut off mine.\"\n\n\"I cannot do it,\" replied the barber; \"your royal highness has been\ngrossly deceived. I have the honour of shaving the first lords of the\ncourt, and I know many of them whose ears are equally red and ten\ntimes as long as those of your royal highness. These very lords are\namongst the most distinguished favourites of the king.\"\n\n\"I have summoned thee,\" replied the prince, \"to operate and not to\nprate; obey my orders, and inflame not my ears still further by thy\ndiscourse.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said the barber, \"since your royal highness means to sacrifice\nthem to an unreasonable caprice, what signifies it whether they are\ninflamed or not?\"\n\nAt these words the prince made a threatening gesture; and Queseca, no\nlonger daring to resist, took his razor, and with a trembling hand\nseparated two of the handsomest ears from one of the finest heads in\nthe world: for be it known, that the princess only made a pretext of\nthis assertion, because she had taken a fancy for somebody else.\n\nThe wound bled profusely: the prince applied healing balm; and when in\na condition to appear before her, enclosed his two ears in a little\nbox, rare and precious, and presented it to Papillette, his heart once\nmore filled with hope and love.\n\nThe princess eagerly opened the beautiful little casket, then dashed\nit with horror to the ground. \"Prince!\" she cried, \"what can have\ninduced you to mutilate yourself so cruelly? Could you imagine that I\nwould ever wed a man who submitted to lose his ears?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the prince, in consternation, \"it was by my own order\nthat--\"\n\n\"What a fool you were then!\" cried Papillette. \"If you are not willing\nto become the ridicule of the court, I advise you to quit it with the\ngreatest expedition imaginable.\"\n\nThe prince dared not call her cruel and ungrateful: he retired to the\nthickest retreats of a forest, and soon after entirely lost his\nreason.\n\nThe princess, once more free, confessed that amongst her numerous\nsuitors there was one whom she preferred; this was Prince Malabar,\nwhose martial mien announced the soul of a hero. The queen did not\ndeny that Malabar had sought her daughter's hand, even before\nFavourite aspired to that honour, and King Merinous could now no\nlonger insist on a marriage with this unfortunate prince, since he was\nquite insane, ran naked through the woods, sometimes believing himself\na hind, sometimes a wolf, and never stopping until exhausted by grief\nand despair. But in consenting to the marriage of his daughter with\nPrince Malabar, the king declared that, should she again change her\nmind, he would never forgive her.\n\nThe happy day was once more fixed, and Papillette, three days\npreceding, invited her lover to meet her in a delightful grove at the\nextremity of the gardens. This grove was planted with myrtles, so\nthick and high that they afforded a pleasant shade. Beautiful flowers\nsprang up on all sides; and, added to the warblings of the birds in\nthe trees, were the voices of hidden musicians, singing a chorus,\ncomposed by the princess herself. This, however, Malabar, who was a\nsoldier, and not a musician, and who naturally wished to have his\nlady-love's society all to himself, did not sufficiently appreciate.\n\n\"Princess,\" said he, \"I had much rather hear you talk than these\npeople sing.\"\n\n\"Are then those cares despised,\" replied Papillette, \"which I have so\nassiduously employed to amuse and gratify you by the display of my\ntalents?\"\n\n\"Your dearest talent,\" cried he, \"is that of pleasing: it comprises\nevery other. Send away these people, I pray.\" He added in a tone of\nthe utmost irritation: \"I hate--I detest music!\"\n\n\"Have I rightly heard?\" exclaimed the princess angrily; \"and do you\npretend to love, if your soul is insensible to such transporting\nsounds?\"\n\n\"I wish they would transport themselves far enough away,\" returned\nthe lover, who, like most other lovers, could be in an ill humour\nsometimes. \"My princess, do order this scraping and squalling to\ncease.\"\n\n\"On the contrary, I order my musicians to remain,\" answered\nPapillette, quite indignant, \"and never, never will I unite myself to\nhim whom divine melody hath no power to move. Go, prince, barbarous\nalike in taste and science, seek some rustic maid, best suited to your\ninsensibility.\"\n\nThe musicians, too far distant to hear these words, struck up a lively\ntune. Malabar imagined this done in derision, and it required all his\nrespect for the princess to prevent him from falling on them sword in\nhand. He repented much his words, but considered it beneath his\ndignity to retract them; the princess also refused to retract hers: so\nthey parted.\n\nMalabar resolved on instant death. Mounting the noblest courser in his\nstable, he rode down to the sea-coast, and plunged him right over a\nperpendicular cliff into the waters below.\n\nThe tide happened to be coming in, so that the body was soon washed on\nshore, and brought before the eyes of the cruel princess, laid on a\nlitter formed of willow, hung with draperies of black crape.\n\nShe was standing at the window when the melancholy procession passed,\nand inquired what it was. None dared answer; they only removed the\ncovering from the face of the corpse. She ottered a loud shriek, and\nfainted away.\n\nThe king and queen lavished on her the most tender cares, but all in\nvain: she declared that she regarded herself as an inconsolable widow,\nand insisted upon putting on the deepest weeds.\n\nKing Merinous respected this caprice, and ordered twenty thousand\nyards of crape for her use. She was just giving orders to have her\napartments festooned with it, and holding a cambric handkerchief to\nher eyes, when a little green ape (a drawing-room favourite) dressed\nitself in weepers, and disposed one of the widow's caps most\ntastefully under its chin.\n\nAt this sight the princess burst out laughing so loudly and heartily,\nthat all the court ladies, who had been trying which could pull the\nlongest and most sympathetic countenance, were greatly relieved, and\nbegan immediately to smile a little.\n\nGradually, they removed from her eyes the trappings of woe, and\nsubstituted ribbons of rose-colour and blue of every shade and\nvariety: trying on these, so diverted Papillette's melancholy, that\nthe poor drowned prince was soon forgotten. Her tears indeed were\nvain; he had already enough of water.\n\nThe king was in despair. \"Alas!\" said he to the queen, \"we shall never\nhave the consolation of marrying Papillette, or beholding our\ngrandchildren. Of two monarchs so worthy of her, one has lost his\nreason, the other has cast himself into the sea; and while we continue\nto weep, she, already consoled, thinks only of diverting herself!\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the queen, \"calm your apprehensions. Our daughter is\nyet too young to feel true love in all its fervour; let us have\npatience, and seek alliance with none but those truly worthy of her\naffections.\"\n\n\"Such is my wish,\" replied the king, \"and I begin to turn my views\nupon Prince Patipata; he has seen the portrait of Papillette, and is\nsatisfied; but, though a wise and noble monarch, his personal\nqualifications are little in his favor.\"\n\n\"How so!\" rejoined the queen.\n\n\"Because he is stiff, tall, and spare; his eyes bleared and filmy; his\nhair red, and so scanty withal, that it seems like a few stripes of\nblasted flax hung around a distaff.\"\n\nA few days after this conversation, Prince Patipata arrived at court;\nand the queen did not conceal from Papillette, that, notwithstanding\nhis personal disadvantages, he was intended for her spouse.\n\nThe princess laughed immoderately, yet, just for amusement, she\ndisplayed towards him all the arts and graces of coquetry to\nperfection.\n\nPrince Patipata having been informed of the deplorable end of his\npredecessors, concealed his love as carefully as the others had\nproclaimed theirs. He was so reserved and cold, that the princess\nlonged exceedingly to discover the state of his feelings. Accordingly,\none day, while Patipata was walking with Salmoe, his intimate\nconfidant, she hid herself in the trunk of an old tree, which had been\nhollowed out by lightning, and afforded apparently a secure retreat.\nThe prince seated himself at the foot of it, but he had observed the\nprincess; and, making a sign of intelligence to his companion, feigned\nto continue a conversation of which she was the subject. \"Assuredly,\"\nsaid he, \"the princess is very handsome; but flatterers, poets, and\npainters always overstep the truth. Her portrait has deceived me: its\nlarge blue eyes bear assuredly some resemblance to those of\nPapillette, but they bespeak an ardent and feeling heart, while hers\nis frivolous, volatile, and incapable of love. Her smile would be\ncharming, but for its satirical irony. And what is the value of the\nloveliest lips in the world, if they open but to deceive and betray!\"\n\n\"I am much surprised,\" replied Salmoe; \"I believed that your royal\nhighness was equally loving and beloved.\"\n\n\"Far from it,\" returned Patipata; \"it would ill become me, plain as I\nam, to be confident of pleasing; and I am not dupe enough to yield my\nheart without return. Do not you approve of this?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Salmoe, \"your royal highness is too modest; I cannot\nsufficiently appreciate your humility.\"\n\nThe prince affected to be dissatisfied with this praise, and then\nmoved onwards in order to liberate Papillette, who was very\ninconveniently cramped, and almost suffocated with anger. Disagreeable\ntruths seldom reach the ear of princesses; her resentment, therefore,\nwas to be expected. Meanwhile, her heart being equally capricious as\nher understanding, she felt ready to pardon, and even, on reflection,\nto justify Patipata. But pride soon combated this weakness; and she\ndetermined to send him away. She complained to her father; assured\nhim, that by mere chance she had heard the most odious calumnies\nuttered by a prince who sported with their dignity, by falsely\npretending to the hand of her whom he slighted and despised. The king\nwas surprised; but, not having entered into any positive engagements\nwith Patipata, he readily entered into her feelings, and intimated to\nthe prince that his adieus would be well received. This Patipata\nexpected; but, although not naturally presumptuous, he had read\nsufficiently into the heart of Papillette to feel some degree of\nconsolation.\n\nAs no decisive explanation of any kind occurred, he was permitted to\ntake leave of the princess. This he did with much firmness; while she\nappeared so much agitated, that it was remarked by all the court. The\nmen attributed this to hatred; but the ladies, who knew better,\npronounced it love. They were convinced of the fact, when day by day\nshe began to pine and refused to eat; and had not the chief cook every\nday invented some new ragout, she would inevitably have died of\nhunger.\n\nThe queen was in despair, and dispatched a billet to the Fairy of the\nFountain, fastening it to the tail of a little white mouse, which\nserved as a messenger on this occasion; it was perfectly acquainted\nwith the way, and in a few minutes the fairy arrived at the palace.\nThe late events were mentioned to her, and the melancholy situation of\nthe princess.\n\n\"I understand this case,\" said the fairy; \"but it is necessary that\nPapillette should give me her confidence.\"\n\nThe fairy was so amiable and so much beloved by the princess, that she\neasily yielded; and casting down her eyes, confessed that she loved\none who regarded her with contemptuous indifference; and what rendered\nher choice still more degrading was, its object being equally ugly as\ninsensible.\n\n\"I am then to understand,\" replied the fairy, \"that you wish to be\ncured of this unfortunate passion?\"\n\n\"Alas, no!\" rejoined Papillette, \"for my only pleasure is in thinking\nof him, speaking to him as if he could hear, and persuading myself\nthat, notwithstanding appearances, he could have loved me, had he\nbelieved my heart capable of steady affections. I shall therefore die,\nleaving him alike ignorant of my regrets and my repentance.\"\n\n\"I would not advise you to die,\" said the fairy \"that is the only evil\nin the world without a remedy. But, my dear Papillette, what can I do\nto console you?\"\n\n\"Let me see the prince once more, under some metamorphose in which it\nis impossible for him to recognise me.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied the fairy. \"But since you wish to risk it, and\nthat a simple butterfly can scarcely compromise her dignity in\nfollowing a king, under this form I shall transport you to his court.\"\n\nSo saying, the Fairy of the Fountain placed on her finger a little\nemerald ring, and the princess distinctly felt her arms change their\nshape--expand--become flexible, and form two light wings, clothed in\nthe most brilliant colours. Her little feet quitted the earth, and as\nthe window was open, she flew out, traversing the air, with a degree\nof rapidity which at first caused some sensations of fear. But soon\nthe eager desire of seeing Patipata urged her forward, although\nnatural instinct so far prevailed, as to cause frequent descents to\nearth, where she rested on every tempting flower.\n\nAt length, entering the prince's gardens, she beheld him walking on a\nterrace watering a beautiful orange-tree. Her heart beat so violently,\nthat her first emotion was to hide, but, soon recovering\nself-possession, she flew forwards and rested on a branch which he had\njust gathered.\n\n\"What a charming butterfly!\" observed the king to his chief gardener.\n\"Its colours are truly exquisite; I never recollect having seen any\nsuch before.\"\n\n\"Some new species, come to do mischief, I suppose,\" said the gardener,\npreparing to brush it rudely away. But it took refuge on the bosom of\nthe king, with such caressing and tender familiarity, that only a hard\nheart could have done it injury.\n\n\"Ah, little traitor!\" cried Patipata, \"thou wishest to win me by thy\nfleeting charms, and then escape for ever. I already know too well the\npain of loving fickle beings such as thou. Yet still I must defend\nthee, and permit thy return to my orange-tree as often as thou\ndesirest.\"\n\nPapillette easily penetrated the thoughts of the prince, and although\nthey uttered a reproach for her inconstancy, she fancied they also\nbreathed the language of love; and returned in better spirits than\nusual to her father's palace, where her absence had been unobserved.\nFrom thenceforward she never omitted making use of the emerald ring,\nwhich transported her in a few moments to her royal lover: she\nfollowed him to his palace, saw him give audiences, preside in\ncouncil, and everywhere prove himself just, great, generous, and\nworthy of all her affection. It is true that his eyes were still\nfilmy, his body spare, and his hair as red as ever; but what signifies\nan outside casket when containing a priceless jewel within?\n\nPatipata was determined against marriage; he therefore adopted as heir\nto the crown the son of a cousin, a young orphan, whom he purposed\nbringing up beneath his own eye. This prince little resembled his\nuncle: he had been much spoiled in infancy, and it was impossible to\nimprove him. One day, while conversing with Patipata, \"Sire,\" said he,\n\"I have a favour to ask your majesty, and I pray you not to refuse\nme.\"\n\n\"I shall willingly grant you anything reasonable,\" replied the king.\n\n\"It is but your beautiful rose-coloured butterfly, which follows you\neverywhere.\"\n\n\"And if I were to give it to you, what then?\"\n\n\"I would run this golden pin through its body, and stick it to a\nbranch of the orange-tree, to see how long it would live. Oh, nothing\ncould be more amusing!\"\n\n\"Nothing could be more barbarous!\" answered Patipata indignantly. \"Go,\nyou inspire me with horror; I banish you from my presence during three\nentire days, and remember, that if my butterfly should receive any\ninjury, you shall be punished with unexampled severity!\"\n\nThe poor butterfly, who had heard this discourse, knew not how to\nexpress its gratitude and joy; it flapped its wings, and sported\naround its benefactor. The king held out his finger, and it rested\nthere. \"Thou shalt quit me no more,\" said he. \"It is so sweet to be\nloved, even by a butterfly, that I would not willingly prove myself\nungrateful: thou shalt feed at my table; I will serve thee with the\nfinest fruits, the fairest flowers. Ah! if I can only make thee\nhappy!\"\n\nOn the following day, Patipata went out hunting. In vain Papillette\nsought him in the park, in the garden, and near the favourite\norange-tree. But his nephew, taking advantage of his absence, began\nchasing the pretty butterfly. The courtiers knew that he would one day\nbe in power, and, eager to gratify his whims, assisted in the wanton\nsport: ministers the most pompous, members of council the most\nprofound, climbed on trees, and capered through the meadows,--one\nwould have supposed them mad. But the royal insect, so familiar with\nthe king, was for all others the most capricious of butterflies. It\namused itself in leading the court a long chase, and at length rested\nin the private cabinet of the king, where they never once thought of\nseeking it.\n\nPapillette, now all alone, could not resist the opportunity afforded\nof looking over a great quantity of writing which lay on the bureau.\nWhat was her surprise and joy, on there finding verses, the most\npassionate and tender, which Patipata had written in her praise! They\nindeed revealed that he was proud, and would not risk a second\nrefusal; but they vowed to remain faithful to her, and never to wed\nanother.\n\nThe princess was so affected, that two little tiny tears stood in her\nbutterfly-eyes. Well indeed she might shed them, for at this moment,\nthe wicked little prince, her enemy, came behind, and seizing her by\nher two lovely wings, popped her into his hat.\n\n\"Now I have you!\" cried he; and it is impossible to say what would\nhave happened, had not the king opportunely returned; when, in taking\noff his hat to his uncle, he let the butterfly go.\n\nShe, recovering from her fright, testified affection by many little\nendearments; and Patipata, now accustomed to speak to her, exclaimed:\n\"Beautiful insect, how happy art thou!--thou wanderest from flower to\nflower, without giving the preference to any--thou knowest not\nlove--thou hast not found ingratitude! I, a king, can not boast of\nsuch happiness. I adore the lovely Princess Papillette, and am\ndismissed from her court. I am ugly, it is true; but were I ever so\nhandsome, I should not be more fortunate, for I too well know her\nfickle--\"\n\nThe butterfly here sighed so deeply, that the king started.\n\n\"Is it possible thou canst feel?\" said he. \"Oh, if my princess had but\nas much sensibility, I would know no other care! With her I would live\nin a hut, far, far from the deceitful splendour of a throne.\"\n\n\"The Princess Papillette would willingly accompany you,\" said a little\nvoice, in tones of the finest and purest melody: and the butterfly's\nrosy wings blushed deep as crimson.\n\n\"What a prodigy!\" cried Patipata. \"Ah! butterfly, what dost thou know\nof my Papillette?\"\n\n\"Suppose it were herself!\" said a voice, which seemed to proceed from\na little fountain of rock-crystal which stood between the windows.\n\nThe prince turned round; but instead of the butterfly, he beheld the\nFairy of the Fountain, holding the fair Papillette by the hand. They\nwere both encircled by a light rose-coloured cloud, which shed a\nsoftly brilliant light around the apartment.\n\nPatipata bent one knee to the earth, and kissed the hem of the\nprincess's garment.\n\n\"Come, prince,\" said the fairy, \"King Merinous is apprised of what\npasses here. Papillette has overcome her evil destiny. Her affections\nare fixed and sure; and their object is yourself And however ready\nyou may both be to live in a hut together, I advise you not to do it.\nLove is sweeter than royalty, no doubt, but it is not impossible to\nunite both.\"\n\nThe lovers, transported with joy, placed their feet on the\nrose-colored cloud, which instantly carried them to the palace of the\nking. The Fairy of the Fountain, to complete her benefactions,\nrendered Patipata as handsome as he was amiable, and the nuptials were\ncelebrated with suitable pomp and festivity. We are informed that\nPapillette had, at first, some slight returns of her natural\ndisposition; but in one year she became a mother, and from\nthenceforward never knew frivolity more.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FROG-PRINCE.\n\n\nIn times of yore, when wishes were both heard and granted, lived a\nking whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so\nlovely that the sun himself, who has seen so much, wondered at her\nbeauty every time he looked in her face. Now, near the king's castle\nwas a large dark forest; and in the forest, under an old linden-tree,\nwas a deep well. When the day was very hot, the king's daughter used\nto go to the wood and seat herself at the edge of the cool well; and\nwhen she became wearied, she would take a golden ball, throw it up in\nthe air, and catch it again. This was her favourite amusement. Once it\nhappened that her golden ball, instead of falling back into the little\nhand that she stretched out for it, dropped on the ground, and\nimmediately rolled away into the water. The king's daughter followed\nit with her eyes, but the ball had vanished, and the well was so deep\nthat no one could see down to the bottom. Then she began to weep, wept\nlouder and louder every minute, and could not console herself at all.\n\nWhile she was thus lamenting some one called to her: \"What is the\nmatter with you, king's daughter? You weep so, that you would touch\nthe heart of a stone.\"\n\nShe looked around to see whence the voice came, and saw a frog\nstretching his thick ugly head out of the water.\n\n\"Ah! it is you, old water-paddler!\" said she. \"I am crying for my\ngolden ball, which has fallen into the well.\"\n\n\"Be content,\" answered the frog, \"I daresay I can give you some good\nadvice; but what will you give me if I bring back your plaything to\nyou?\"\n\n\"Whatever you like, dear frog,\" said she, \"my clothes, my pearls and\njewels, even the golden crown I wear.\"\n\nThe frog answered, \"Your clothes, your pearls and jewels, even your\ngolden crown, I do not care for; but if you will love me, and let me\nbe your companion and playfellow; sit near you at your little table,\neat from your little golden plate, drink from your little cup, and\nsleep in your little bed;--if you will promise me this, then I will\nbring you back your golden ball from the bottom of the well.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes!\" said she; \"I promise you everything, if you will only bring\nme back my golden ball.\"\n\nShe thought to herself, meanwhile: \"What nonsense the silly frog\ntalks! He sits in the water with the other frogs, and croaks, and can\nnot be anybody's playfellow!\"\n\nBut the frog, as soon as he had received the promise, dipped his head\nunder the water and sank down. In a little while up he came again with\nthe ball in his mouth, and threw it on the grass. The king's daughter\nwas overjoyed when she beheld her pretty plaything again, picked it\nup, and ran away with it.\n\n\"Wait! wait!\" cried the frog; \"take me with you. I cannot run as fast\nas you.\"\n\nAlas! of what use was it that he croaked after her as loud as he\ncould. She would not listen to him, but hastened home, and soon forgot\nthe poor frog, who was obliged to plunge again to the bottom of his\nwell.\n\nThe next day, when she was sitting at dinner with the king and all the\ncourtiers, eating from her little gold plate, there came a sound of\nsomething creeping up the marble staircase--splish, splash; and when\nit had reached the top, it knocked at the door and cried, \"Youngest\nking's daughter, open to me.\"\n\nShe ran, wishing to see who was outside; but when she opened the door,\nand there sat the frog, she flung it hastily to again, and sat down at\ntable, feeling very, very uncomfortable. The king saw that her heart\nwas beating violently, and said, \"How, my child, why are you afraid?\nIs a giant standing outside the door to carry you off?\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" answered she, \"it is no giant, but a nasty frog, who\nyesterday, when I was playing in the wood near the well, fetched my\ngolden ball out of the water. For this I promised him he should be my\ncompanion, but I never thought he could come out of his well. Now he\nis at the door, and wants to come in.\"\n\nAgain, the second time there was a knock, and a voice cried:\n\n    \"Youngest king's daughter,\n      Open to me;\n    Know you what yesterday\n      You promised me,\n    By the cool water?\n    Youngest king's daughter\n      Open to me.\"\n\nThen said the king, \"What you promised you must perform. Go and open\nthe door.\"\n\nShe went and opened the door; the frog hopped in, always following and\nfollowing her till he came up to her chair. There he sat and cried\nout, \"Lift me up to you on the table.\"\n\nShe refused, till the king, her father, commanded her to do it. When\nthe frog was on the table, he said, \"Now push your little golden plate\nnearer to me, that we may eat together.\" She did as he desired, but\none could easily see that she did it unwillingly. The frog seemed to\nenjoy his dinner very much, but every morsel she ate stuck in the\nthroat of the poor little princess.\n\nThen said the frog, \"I have eaten enough, and am tired; carry me to\nyour little room, and make your little silken bed smooth, and we will\nlay ourselves down to sleep together.\"\n\nAt this the daughter of the king began to weep; for she was afraid of\nthe cold frog, who wanted to sleep in her pretty clean bed.\n\nBut the king looked angrily at her, and said again: \"What you have\npromised you must perform. The frog is your companion.\"\n\nIt was no use to complain whether she liked it or not; she was obliged\nto take the frog with her up to her little bed. So she picked him up\nwith two fingers, hating him bitterly the while, and carried him\nupstairs: but when she got into bed, instead of lifting him up to her,\nshe threw him with all her strength against the wall, saying, \"Now,\nyou nasty frog, there will be an end of you.\"\n\nBut what fell down from the wall was not a dead frog, but a living\nyoung prince, with beautiful and loving eyes, who at once became, by\nher own promise and her father's will, her dear companion and husband.\nHe told her how he had been cursed by a wicked sorceress, and that no\none but the king's youngest daughter could release him from his\nenchantment and take him out of the well.\n\nThe next day a carriage drove up to the palace-gates with eight white\nhorses, having white feathers on their heads and golden reins. Behind\nit stood the servant of the young prince, called the Faithful Henry.\nThis faithful Henry had been so grieved when his master was changed\ninto a frog, that he had been compelled to have three iron bands\nfastened round his heart, lest it should break. Now the carriage came\nto convey the prince to his kingdom, so the faithful Henry lifted in\nthe bride and bridegroom, and mounted behind, full of joy at his\nlord's release. But when they had gone a short distance, the prince\nheard behind him a noise as if something was breaking. He turned\nround, and cried out, \"Henry, the carriage is breaking!\"\n\nBut Henry replied: \"No, sir, it is not the carriage, but one of the\nbands from my heart, with which I was forced to bind it up, or it\nwould have broken with grief, while you sat as a frog at the bottom of\nthe well.\"\n\nTwice again this happened, and the prince always thought the carriage\nwas breaking; but it was only the bands breaking off from the heart of\nthe faithful Henry, out of joy that his lord the Frog-Prince was a\nfrog no more.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WHITE CAT.\n\n\nThere was once a king who had three sons, all handsome, brave and\nnoble of heart. Nevertheless, some wicked courtiers made their father\nbelieve they were eager to wear his crown, which, though he was old,\nhe had no mind to resign. He therefore invented a plan to get them out\nof the kingdom, and prevent their carrying out any undutiful projects.\nSending for them to a private audience, he conversed with them kindly,\nand said: \"You must be sensible, my dear children, that my great age\nprevents me from attending so closely as I have hitherto done to state\naffairs. I fear this may be injurious to my subjects; I therefore\ndesire to place my crown on the head of one of you; but it is no more\nthan just that, in return for such a present, you should procure me\nsome amusement in my retirement, before I leave the capital for ever.\nI cannot help thinking that a little dog, handsome, faithful, and\nengaging, would be the very thing to make me happy; so that, without\nbestowing a preference on either of you, I declare that he who brings\nme the most perfect little dog shall be my successor.\"\n\nThe princes were much surprised at the fancy of their father to have a\nlittle dog, yet they accepted the proposition with pleasure; and\naccordingly, after taking leave of the king, who presented them with\nabundance of money and jewels, and appointed that day twelvemonth for\ntheir return, they set off on their travels.\n\nBefore separating, however, they took some refreshment together, in an\nold palace about three miles out of town, where they mutually agreed\nto meet in the same place on that day twelvemonth, and go all together\nwith their presents to court. They also agreed to change their names,\nand travel incognito.\n\nEach took a different road; but it is intended to relate the\nadventures of only the youngest, who was the most beautiful, amiable,\nand accomplished prince in the world. As he travelled from town to\ntown, he bought all the handsome dogs that fell in his way; and as\nsoon as he saw one that was handsomer than those he had, he made a\npresent of the rest; for twenty servants would scarcely have been\nsufficient to take care of all the dogs he was continually purchasing.\nAt length, wandering he knew not whither, he found himself in a\nforest; night suddenly came on, and with it a violent storm of\nthunder, lightning, and rain: to add to his perplexity, he lost his\nway. After he had groped about for a long time, he perceived a light,\nwhich made him suppose that he was not far from some house: he\naccordingly pursued his way towards it, and in a short time found\nhimself at the gates of the most magnificent palace he had ever\nbeheld. The entrance-door was of gold, covered with sapphires, which\nshone so that scarcely could the strongest eyesight bear to look at\nit: this was the light the prince had seen from the forest. The walls\nwere of transparent porcelain, variously coloured, and represented the\nhistory of all the fairies that had existed from the beginning of the\nworld. The prince, coming back to the golden door, observed a deer's\nfoot fastened to a chain of diamonds; he could not help wondering at\nthe magnificence he beheld, and the security in which the inhabitants\nseemed to live; \"For,\" said he to himself, \"nothing could be easier\nthan for thieves to steal this chain, and as many of the\nsapphire-stones as would make their fortunes.\" He pulled the chain,\nand heard a bell, the sound of which was exquisite. In a few moments\nthe door was opened; yet he perceived nothing but twelve hands in the\nair, each holding a torch. The prince was so astonished that he durst\nnot move a step--when he felt himself gently pushed on by some other\nhands from behind him. He walked on, in great perplexity, till he\nentered a vestibule inlaid with porphyry and lapis-stone, where the\nmost melodious voice he had ever heard chanted the following words:--\n\n    \"Welcome, prince, no danger fear,\n    Mirth and love attend you here;\n    You shall break the magic spell,\n    That on a beauteous lady fell.\n\n    Welcome, prince, no danger fear,\n    Mirth and love attend you here.\"\n\nThe prince now advanced with confidence, wondering what these words\ncould mean; the hands moved him forward towards a large door of\ncoral, which opened of itself to give him admittance into a splendid\napartment built of mother-o'-pearl, through which he passed into\nothers, so richly adorned with paintings and jewels, and so\nresplendently lighted with thousands of lamps, girandoles, and\nlustres, that he imagined he must be in an enchanted palace. When he\nhad passed through sixty apartments, all equally splendid, he was\nstopped by the hands, and a large easy chair advanced of itself\ntowards the fireplace; then the hands, which he observed were\nextremely white and delicate, took off his wet clothes, and supplied\ntheir place with the finest linen imaginable, adding a comfortable\nwrapping-gown, embroidered with gold and pearls.\n\nThe hands next brought him an elegant dressing-table, and combed his\nhair so very gently that he scarcely felt their touch. They held\nbefore him a beautiful basin, filled with perfumes, for him to wash\nhis face and hands, and afterwards took off the wrapping-gown, and\ndressed him in a suit of clothes of still greater splendour. When his\ntoilet was complete, they conducted him to an apartment he had not yet\nseen, and which also was magnificently furnished. There was a table\nspread for supper, and everything upon it was of the purest gold,\nadorned with jewels. The prince observed there were two covers set,\nand was wondering who was to be his companion, when his attention was\nsuddenly caught by a small figure not a foot high, which just then\nentered the room, and advanced towards him. It had on a long black\nveil, and was supported by two cats dressed in mourning and with\nswords by their sides: they were followed by a numerous retinue of\ncats, some carrying cages full of rats, and others mouse-traps full of\nmice.\n\nThe prince was at a loss what to think. The little figure now\napproached, and throwing aside her veil, he beheld a most beautiful\nwhite cat: she seemed young and melancholy; and, addressing herself to\nhim, she said, \"My prince, you are welcome; your presence affords me\nthe greatest pleasure.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied he, \"I would fain thank you for your generosity, nor\ncan I help observing that you must be an extraordinary creature to\npossess, with your present form, the gift of speech, and the most\nmagnificent palace I have ever seen.\"\n\n\"All this is very true,\" answered the beautiful cat; \"but, prince, I\nam not fond of talking, and least of all do I like compliments; let us\ntherefore sit down to supper.\"\n\nThe trunkless hands then placed the dishes on the table, and the\nprince and white cat seated themselves at it. The first dish was a pie\nmade of young pigeons, and the next was a fricassee of the fattest\nmice. The view of the one made the prince almost afraid to taste the\nother, till the white cat, who guessed his thoughts, assured him that\nthere were certain dishes at table which had been dressed on purpose\nfor him, in which there was not a morsel of either rat or mouse:\naccordingly, he ate heartily of such as she recommended. When supper\nwas over, he perceived that the white cat had a portrait set in gold\nhanging to one of her feet. He begged her permission to look at it;\nwhen, to his astonishment, he saw the portrait of a handsome young\nman, who exactly resembled himself! He thought there was something\nmost extraordinary in all this: yet, as the white cat sighed and\nlooked very sorrowful, he did not venture to ask any questions. He\nconversed with her on different subjects, and found her extremely well\nversed in everything that was passing in the world. When night was far\nadvanced, his hostess wished him a good night, and he was conducted by\nthe hands to his bedchamber, which was different still from anything\nhe had seen in the palace, being hung with the wings of butterflies\nmixed with the most curious feathers. His bed was of gauze, festooned\nwith bunches of the gayest ribands, and the looking-glasses reached\nfrom the floor to the ceiling. The prince was undressed and put into\nbed by the hands, without speaking a word. He, however, slept little,\nand in the morning was awakened by a confused noise. The hands took\nhim out of bed, and put on him a handsome hunting-jacket. He looked\ninto the courtyard, and perceived more than five hundred cats, busily\nemployed in preparing for the field--for this was a day of festival.\nPresently the white cat came to his apartment; and having politely\ninquired after his health, she invited him to partake of their\namusement. The prince willingly acceded, and mounted a wooden horse,\nrichly caparisoned, which had been prepared for him, and which he was\nassured would gallop to admiration. The beautiful white cat mounted a\nmonkey; she wore a dragoon's cap, which made her look so fierce that\nall the rats and mice ran away in the utmost terror.\n\nEverything being ready, the horns sounded, and away they went: no\nhunting was ever more agreeable. The cats ran faster than the hares\nand rabbits; and when they caught any, they turned them out to be\nhunted in the presence of the white cat, and a thousand cunning tricks\nwere played. Nor were the birds in safety; for the monkey made nothing\nof climbing up the trees, with the white cat on his back, to the nests\nof the young eagles. When the chase was over, the whole retinue\nreturned to the palace; the white cat immediately exchanged her\ndragoon's cap for the veil, and sat down to supper with the prince,\nwho, being very hungry, ate heartily, and afterwards partook with her\nof the most delicious wines. He then was conducted to his chamber as\nbefore, and wakened in the morning to renew the same sort of life,\nwhich day after day became so pleasant to him that he no longer\nthought of anything but of pleasing the sweet little creature who\nreceived him so courteously: accordingly, every day was spent in new\namusements. The prince had almost forgotten his country and relations,\nand sometimes even regretted that he was not a cat, so great was his\naffection for his mewing companions.\n\n\"Alas!\" said he to the white cat, \"how will it afflict me to leave\nyou, whom I love so much! Either make yourself a lady, or make me a\ncat.\" She smiled at the prince's wish, but offered no reply.\n\nAt length, the twelvemonth was nearly expired: the white cat, who knew\nthe very day when the prince was to reach his father's palace,\nreminded him that he had but three days longer to look for a perfect\nlittle dog. The prince, astonished at his own forgetfulness, began to\nafflict himself; when the cat told him not to be so sorrowful, since\nshe would not only provide him with a little dog, but also with a\nwooden horse, which should convey him safely home in less than twelve\nhours.\n\n\"Look here,\" said she, showing him an acorn, \"this contains what you\ndesire.\"\n\nThe prince put the acorn to his ear, and heard the barking of a little\ndog. Transported with joy, he thanked the cat a thousand times; and\nthe next day, bidding her tenderly adieu, he set out on his return.\n\nThe prince arrived first at the place of rendezvous, and was soon\njoined by his brothers: they mutually embraced, and began to give an\naccount of their success; when the youngest showed them only a little\nmongrel cur, telling them that he thought it could not fail to please\nthe king, from its extraordinary beauty. The brothers trod on each\nother's toes under the table, as much as to say, \"We have little to\nfear from this sorry-looking animal.\" The next day they went together\nto the palace. The dogs of the two elder brothers were lying on\ncushions, and so curiously wrapped around with embroidered quilts,\nthat one would scarcely venture to touch them. The youngest produced\nhis cur, and all wondered how the prince could hope to receive a crown\nfor such a shabby present. The king examined the two little dogs of\nthe elder princes, and declared he thought them so equally beautiful\nthat he knew not to which, with justice, he could give the preference.\nThey accordingly began to dispute; when the youngest prince, taking\nhis acorn from his pocket, soon ended their contention; for a little\ndog appeared, which could with ease go through the smallest ring, and\nwas besides a miracle of beauty. The king could not possibly hesitate\nin declaring his satisfaction; yet, as he was not more inclined than\nthe year before to part with his crown, he told his sons that he was\nextremely obliged to them for the pains they had taken: and since they\nhad succeeded so well, he wished they would make a second attempt; he\ntherefore begged they would take another year in order to procure a\npiece of cambric, fine enough to be drawn through the eye of a small\nneedle.\n\nThe three princes thought this very hard; yet they set out, in\nobedience to the king's command. The two eldest took different roads,\nand the youngest remounted his wooden horse, and in a short time\narrived at the palace of his beloved white cat, who received him with\nthe greatest joy, while the trunkless hands helped him to dismount,\nand provided him with immediate refreshment. Afterwards the prince\ngave the white cat an account of the admiration which had been\nbestowed on the beautiful little dog, and informed her of the further\ninjunction of his father.\n\n\"Make yourself perfectly easy, dear prince,\" said she; \"I have in my\npalace some cats who are perfect adepts in making such cambric as the\nking requires; so you have nothing to do but to give me the pleasure\nof your company while it is making, and I will procure you all the\namusement possible.\"\n\nShe accordingly ordered the most curious fire-works to be played off\nin sight of the window of the apartment in which they were sitting;\nand nothing but festivity and rejoicing was heard throughout the\npalace for the prince's return. As the white cat frequently gave\nproofs of an excellent understanding, the prince was by no means tired\nof her company; she talked with him of state affairs, of theatres, of\nfashions: in short, she was at a loss on no subject whatever; so that\nwhen the prince was alone, he had plenty of amusement in thinking how\nit could possibly be, that a small white cat could be endowed with all\nthe attractions of the very best and most charming of women.\n\nThe twelvemonth in this manner again passed insensibly away; but the\ncat took care to remind the prince of his duty in proper time. \"For\nonce, my prince,\" said she, \"I will have the pleasure of equipping you\nas suits your high rank.\" And, looking into the courtyard, he saw a\nsuperb car, ornamented all over with gold, silver, pearls, and\ndiamonds, drawn by twelve horses as white as snow, and harnessed in\nthe most sumptuous trappings; and behind the car a thousand guards,\nrichly apparelled, were waiting to attend on the prince's person. She\nthen presented him with a nut: \"You will find in it,\" said she, \"the\npiece of cambric I promised you: do not break the shell till you are\nin the presence of the king your father.\" Then, to prevent the\nacknowledgments which the prince was about to offer, she hastily bade\nhim adieu.\n\nNothing could exceed the speed with which the snow-white horses\nconveyed this fortunate prince to his father's palace, where his\nbrothers had just arrived before him. They embraced each other, and\ndemanded an immediate audience of the king, who received them with the\ngreatest of kindness. The princes hastened to place at the feet of his\nmajesty the curious present he had required them to procure. The\neldest produced a piece of cambric so extremely fine, that his friends\nhad no doubt of its passing through the eye of a needle, which was now\ndelivered to the king, having been kept locked up in the custody of\nhis majesty's treasurer all the time. But when the king tried to draw\nthe cambric through the eye of the needle, it would not pass, though\nit failed but very little. Then came the second prince, who made as\nsure of obtaining the crown as his brother had done, but, alas! with\nno better success; for though his piece of cambric was exquisitely\nfine, yet it could not be drawn through the eye of the needle. It was\nnow the turn of the youngest prince, who accordingly advanced, and\nopening an elegant little box inlaid with jewels, took out a walnut\nand cracked the shell, imagining he should immediately perceive his\npiece of cambric; but what was his astonishment to see nothing but a\nfilbert! He did not, however, lose his hopes; he cracked the filbert,\nand it presented him with a cherry-stone. The lords of the court, who\nhad assembled to witness this extraordinary trial, could not, any more\nthan the princes his brothers, refrain from laughing, to think he\nshould be so silly as to claim the crown on no better pretensions. The\nprince, however, cracked the cherry-stone, which was filled with a\nkernel; he divided it, and found in the middle a grain of wheat, and\nin that a grain of millet-seed. He was now absolutely confounded, and\ncould not help muttering between his teeth, \"O white cat, white cat,\nthou hast deceived me!\" At this instant he felt his hand scratched by\nthe claw of a cat; upon which he again took courage, and opening the\ngrain of millet-seed, to the astonishment of all present, he drew\nforth a piece of cambric four hundred yards long, and fine enough to\nbe threaded with perfect ease through the eye of the needle.\n\nWhen the king found he had no pretext left for refusing the crown to\nhis youngest son, he sighed deeply, and it was easy to be seen that he\nwas sorry for the prince's success.\n\n\"My sons,\" said he, \"it is so gratifying to the heart of a father to\nreceive proofs of his children's love and obedience, that I cannot\nrefuse myself the satisfaction of requiring of you one thing more.\nYou must undertake another expedition. That one of you, who, by the\nend of a year, brings me the most beautiful lady, shall marry her and\nobtain my crown.\"\n\nSo they again took leave of the king and of each other, and set out\nwithout delay; and in less than twelve hours, our young prince\narrived, in his splendid car, at the palace of his dear white cat.\nEverything went on as before till the end of another year. At length\nonly one day remained of the year, when the white cat thus addressed\nhim: \"To-morrow, my prince, you must present yourself at the palace of\nyour father, and give him a proof of your obedience. It depends only\non yourself to conduct thither the most beautiful princess ever yet\nbeheld, for the time is come when the enchantment by which I am bound\nmay be ended. You must cut off my head and tail,\" continued she, \"and\nthrow them into the fire.\"\n\n\"I!\" said the prince, hastily--\"I cut off your head and tail! You\nsurely mean to try my affection, which, believe me, beautiful cat, is\ntruly yours.\"\n\n\"You mistake me, generous prince,\" said she; \"I do not doubt your\nregard; but if you wish to see me in any other form than that of a\ncat, you must consent to do as I desire, when you will have done me a\nservice I shall never be able sufficiently to repay.\"\n\nThe prince's eyes filled with tears as she spoke, yet he considered\nhimself obliged to undertake the dreadful task; and the cat\ncontinuing to press him with the greatest eagerness, with a trembling\nhand he drew his sword, cut off her head and tail, and threw them into\nthe fire. No sooner was this done, than the most beautiful lady his\neyes had ever seen stood before him: and ere he had sufficiently\nrecovered from his surprise to speak to her, a long train of\nattendants, who, at the same moment as their mistress, were changed to\ntheir natural shapes, came to offer their congratulations to the\nqueen, and inquire her commands. She received them with the greatest\nkindness, and ordering them to withdraw, thus addressed the astonished\nprince:\n\n\"Do not imagine, dear prince, that I have always been a cat, or that I\nam of obscure birth. My father was the monarch of six kingdoms; he\ntenderly loved my mother, and left her always at liberty to follow her\nown inclinations. Her prevailing passion was to travel; and a short\ntime before my birth, having heard of some fairies who were in\npossession of the largest gardens filled with the most delicious\nfruits, she had so strong a desire to eat some of them, that she set\nout for the country where they lived. She arrived at their abode,\nwhich she found to be a magnificent palace, on all sides glittering\nwith gold and precious stones. She knocked a long time at the gates;\nbut no one came, nor could she perceive the least sign that it had any\ninhabitant. The difficulty, however, did but increase the violence of\nmy mother's longing; for she saw the tops of the trees above the\ngarden-walls, loaded with the most luscious fruits. The queen, in\ndespair, ordered her attendants to place tents close to the door of\nthe palace; but, having waited six weeks without seeing any one pass\nthe gates, she fell sick of vexation, and her life was despaired of.\n\n\"One night, as she lay half asleep, she turned herself about, and,\nopening her eyes, perceived a little old woman, very ugly and\ndeformed, seated in the easy-chair by her bedside. 'I and my sister\nfairies,' said she, 'take it very ill that your majesty should so\nobstinately persist in getting some of our fruit; but since so\nprecious a life is at stake, we consent to give you as much as you can\ncarry away, provided you will give us in return what we shall ask.'\n'Ah! kind fairy,' cried the queen, 'I will give you anything that I\npossess, even my very kingdoms, on condition that I eat of your\nfruit.' The old fairy then informed the queen that what they required\nwas, that she should give them the child she was going to have, as\nsoon as it should be born; adding, that every possible care should be\ntaken of it, and that it should become the most accomplished princess.\nThe queen replied that, however cruel the conditions, she must accept\nthem, since nothing but the fruit could save her life. In short, dear\nprince,\" continued the lady, \"my mother instantly got out of bed, was\ndressed by her attendants, entered the palace, and satisfied her\nlonging. Having eaten her fill, she ordered four thousand mules to be\nprocured and loaded with the fruit, which had the virtue of continuing\nall the year round in a state of perfection. Thus provided, she\nreturned to the king my father, who, with the whole court, received\nher with rejoicings, as it was before imagined she would die of\ndisappointment. All this time the queen said nothing to my father of\nthe promise she had made to give her daughter to the fairies; so that\nwhen the time was come that she expected my birth, she grew very\nmelancholy; till at length, being pressed by the king, she declared to\nhim the truth. Nothing could exceed his affliction when he heard that\nhis only child, when born, was to be given to the fairies. He bore it,\nhowever, as well as he could, for fear of adding to my mother's grief;\nand also believing he should find some means of keeping me in a place\nof safety, which the fairies would not be able to approach. As soon,\ntherefore, as I was born, he had me conveyed to a tower in the palace,\nto which there were twenty flights of stairs, and a door to each, of\nwhich my father kept the key, so that none came near me without his\nconsent. When the fairies heard of what had been done, they sent first\nto demand me; and on my father's refusal, they let loose a monstrous\ndragon, which devoured men, women, and children, and which, by the\nbreath of its nostrils, destroyed everything it came near, so that\neven the trees and plants began to die. The grief of the king was\nexcessive; and, finding that his whole kingdom would in a short time\nbe reduced to famine, he consented to give me into their hands. I was\naccordingly laid in a cradle of mother-o'-pearl, ornamented with gold\nand jewels, and carried to their palace, when the dragon immediately\ndisappeared. The fairies placed me in a tower, elegantly furnished,\nbut to which there was no door, so that whoever approached was obliged\nto come by the windows, which were a great height from the ground:\nfrom these I had the liberty of getting out into a delightful garden,\nin which were baths, and every sort of cooling fruit. In this place\nwas I educated by the fairies, who behaved to me with the greatest\nkindness; my clothes were splendid, and I was instructed in every kind\nof accomplishment; in short, prince, if I had never seen anyone but\nthemselves, I should have remained very happy. One day, however, as I\nwas talking at the window with my parrot, I perceived a young\ngentleman who was listening to our conversation. As I had never seen a\nman but in pictures, I was not sorry for the opportunity of gratifying\nmy curiosity. I thought him a very pleasing object, and he at length\nbowed in the most respectful manner, without daring to speak, for he\nknew that I was in the palace of the fairies. When it began to grow\ndark, he went away, and I vainly endeavoured to see which road he\ntook. The next morning, as soon as it was light, I again placed myself\nat the window, and had the pleasure of seeing that the gentleman had\nreturned to the same place. He now spoke to me through a\nspeaking-trumpet, and informed me he thought me a most charming lady,\nand that he should be very unhappy if he did not pass his life in my\ncompany.\n\n\"I resolved to find some means of escaping from my tower, and was not\nlong in devising the means for the execution of my project: I begged\nthe fairies to bring me a netting-needle, a mesh, and some cord,\nsaying I wished to make some nets to amuse myself with catching birds\nat my window. This they readily complied with, and in a short time I\ncompleted a ladder long enough to reach to the ground. I now sent my\nparrot to the prince, to beg he would come to the usual place, as I\nwished to speak with him. He did not fail; and finding the ladder,\nmounted it, and quickly entered my tower. This at first alarmed me,\nbut the charms of his conversation had restored me to tranquillity,\nwhen all at once the window opened, and the Fairy Violent, mounted on\nthe dragon's back, rushed into the tower. My beloved prince thought of\nnothing but how to defend me from their fury; for I had had time to\nrelate to him my story, previous to this cruel interruption; but their\nnumbers overpowered him, and the Fairy Violent had the barbarity to\ncommand the dragon to devour my lover before my eyes. In my despair, I\nwould have thrown myself also into the mouth of the horrible monster;\nbut this they took care to prevent, saying, my life should be\npreserved for greater punishment. The fairy then touched me with her\nwand, and I instantly became a white cat. She next conducted me to\nthis palace, which belonged to my father, and gave me a train of cats\nfor my attendants, together with the twelve hands that waited on your\nhighness. She then informed me of my birth and the death of my\nparents, and pronounced upon me what she imagined the greatest of\nmaledictions; that I should not be restored to my natural figure until\na young prince, the perfect resemblance of him I had lost, should cut\noff my head and tail. You are that perfect resemblance; and\naccordingly you ended the enchantment. I need not add, that I already\nlove you more than my life; let us therefore hasten to the palace of\nthe king your father, and obtain his approbation to our marriage.\"\n\nThe prince and princess accordingly set out side by side, in a car of\nstill greater splendour than before, and reached the palace just as\nthe two brothers had arrived with two beautiful princesses. The king,\nhearing that each of his sons had succeeded in finding what he had\nrequired, again began to think of some new expedient to delay the time\nof his resigning the crown; but when the whole court were with the\nking assembled to pass judgment, the princess who accompanied the\nyoungest, perceiving his thoughts by his countenance, stepped\nmajestically forward and thus addressed him:\n\n\"It is a pity that your majesty, who is so capable of governing,\nshould think of resigning the crown! I am fortunate enough to have six\nkingdoms in my possession; permit me to bestow one on each of the\neldest princes, and to enjoy the remaining four in the society of the\nyoungest. And may it please your majesty to keep your own kingdom, and\nmake no decision concerning the beauty of three princesses, who,\nwithout such a proof of your majesty's preference, will no doubt live\nhappily together!\"\n\nThe air resounded with the applauses of the assembly: the young prince\nand princess embraced the king, and next their brothers and sisters:\nthe three weddings immediately took place, and the kingdoms were\ndivided as the princess had proposed.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE CHERRY\n\n\nLong ago there lived a monarch, who was such a very honest man that\nhis subjects entitled him the Good King. One day, when he was out\nhunting, a little white rabbit, which had been half killed by his\nhounds, leaped right into his majesty's arms. Said he, caressing it:\n\"This poor creature has put itself under my protection, and I will\nallow no one to injure it.\" So he carried it to his palace, had\nprepared for it a neat little rabbit-hutch, with abundance of the\ndaintiest food, such as rabbits love, and there he left it.\n\nThe same night, when he was alone in his chamber, there appeared to\nhim a beautiful lady. She was dressed neither in gold, nor silver, nor\nbrocade; but her flowing robes were white as snow, and she wore a\ngarland of white roses on her head. The Good King was greatly\nastonished at the sight; for his door was locked, and he wondered how\nso dazzling a lady could possibly enter; but she soon removed his\ndoubts.\n\n\"I am the Fairy Candide,\" said she, with a smiling and gracious air.\n\"Passing through the wood, where you were hunting, I took a desire to\nknow if you were as good as men say you are. I therefore changed\nmyself into a white rabbit, and took refuge in your arms. You saved\nme, and now I know that those who are merciful to dumb beasts will be\nten times more so to human beings. You merit the name your subjects\ngive you: you are the Good King. I thank you for your protection, and\nshall be always one of your best friends. You have but to say what you\nmost desire, and I promise you your wish shall be granted.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the king, \"if you are a fairy, you must know, without\nmy telling you, the wish of my heart. I have one well-beloved son,\nPrince Cherry: whatever kindly feeling you have towards me, extend it\nto him.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" said Candide. \"I will make him the handsomest, richest,\nor most powerful prince in the world: choose whichever you desire for\nhim.\"\n\n\"None of the three,\" returned the father. \"I only wish him to be\ngood--the best prince in the whole world. Of what use would riches,\npower, or beauty be to him if he were a bad man?\"\n\n\"You are right,\" said the fairy; \"but I cannot make him good: he must\ndo that himself. I can only change his external fortunes; for his\npersonal character, the utmost I can promise is to give him good\ncounsel, reprove him for his faults, and even punish him, if he will\nnot punish himself. You mortals can do the same with your children.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes!\" said the king, sighing. Still, he felt that the kindness of\na fairy was something gained for his son, and died not long after,\ncontent and at peace.\n\nPrince Cherry mourned deeply, for he dearly loved his father, and\nwould have gladly given all his kingdoms and treasures to keep him in\nlife a little longer. Two days after the Good King was no more, Prince\nCherry was sleeping in his chamber, when he saw the same dazzling\nvision of the Fairy Candide.\n\n\"I promised your father,\" said she, \"to be your best friend, and in\npledge of this take what I now give you;\" and she placed a small gold\nring upon his finger. \"Poor as it looks, it is more precious than\ndiamonds; for whenever you do ill it will prick your finger. If, after\nthat warning, you still continue in evil, you will lose my friendship,\nand I shall become your direst enemy.\"\n\nSo saying, she disappeared, leaving Cherry in such amazement, that he\nwould have believed it all a dream, save for the ring on his finger.\n\nHe was for a long time so good that the ring never pricked him at all;\nand this made him so cheerful and pleasant in his humour that\neverybody called him, \"Happy Prince Cherry.\" But, one unlucky day, he\nwas out hunting and found no sport, which vexed him so much that he\nshowed his ill temper by his looks and ways. He fancied his ring felt\nvery tight and uncomfortable, but as it did not prick him, he took no\nheed of this: until, re-entering his palace, his little pet dog, Bibi,\njumped up upon him, and was sharply told to get away. The creature,\naccustomed to nothing but caresses, tried to attract his attention by\npulling at his garments, when Prince Cherry turned and gave it a\nsevere kick. At this moment he felt in his finger a prick like a pin.\n\n\"What nonsense!\" said he to himself. \"The fairy must be making game of\nme. Why, what great evil have I done! I, the master of a great empire,\ncannot I kick my own dog?\"\n\nA voice replied, or else Prince Cherry imagined it, \"No, sire; the\nmaster of a great empire has a right to do good, but not evil. I--a\nfairy--am as much above you as you are above your dog. I might punish\nyou, kill you, if I chose; but I prefer leaving you to amend your\nways. You have been guilty of three faults to-day--bad temper,\npassion, cruelty: do better to-morrow.\"\n\nThe prince promised, and kept his word awhile; but he had been brought\nup by a foolish nurse, who indulged him in every way, and was always\ntelling him that he would be a king one day, when he might do as he\nliked in all things. He found out now that even a king cannot always\ndo that; it vexed him, and made him angry. His ring began to prick him\nso often that his little finger was continually bleeding. He disliked\nthis, as was natural; and soon began to consider whether it would not\nbe easier to throw the ring away altogether than to be constantly\nannoyed by it. It was such a queer thing for a king to have always a\nspot of blood on his finger! At last, unable to put up with it any\nmore, he took his ring off, and hid it where he would never see it;\nand believed himself the happiest of men, for he could now do exactly\nwhat he liked. He did it, and became every day more and more\nmiserable.\n\nOne day he saw a young girl, so beautiful that, being always\naccustomed to have his own way, he immediately determined to espouse\nher. He never doubted that she would be only too glad to be made a\nqueen, for she was very poor. But Zelia--that was her name--answered,\nto his great astonishment, that she would rather not marry him.\n\n\"Do I displease you?\" asked the prince, into whose mind it had never\nentered that he could displease anybody.\n\n\"Not at all, my prince,\" said the honest peasant-maiden. \"You are very\nhandsome, very charming; but you are not like your father the Good\nKing. I will not be your queen, for you would make me miserable.\"\n\nAt these words the prince's love seemed all to turn to hatred: he gave\norders to his guards to convey Zelia to a prison near the palace; and\nthen took counsel with his foster brother, the one of all his ill\ncompanions who most incited him to do wrong.\n\n\"Sir,\" said this man, \"if I were in your majesty's place, I would\nnever vex myself about a poor silly girl. Feed her on bread and water\ntill she comes to her senses; and if she still refuses you, let her\ndie in torment, as a warning to your other subjects should they\nventure to dispute your will. You will be disgraced should you suffer\nyourself to be conquered by a simple girl.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Prince Cherry, \"shall I not be disgraced if I harm a\ncreature so perfectly innocent?\"\n\n\"No one is innocent who disputes your majesty's authority,\" said the\ncourtier, bowing; \"and it is better to commit an injustice than allow\nit to be supposed you can ever be contradicted with impunity.\"\n\nThis touched Cherry on his weak point--his good impulses faded; he\nresolved once more to ask Zelia if she would marry him, and, if she\nagain refused, to sell her as a slave. Arrived at the cell in which\nshe was confined, what was his astonishment to find her gone! He knew\nnot who to accuse, for he had kept the key in his pocket the whole\ntime. At last, the foster-brother suggested that the escape of Zelia\nmight have been contrived by an old man, Suliman by name, the prince's\nformer tutor, who was the only one who now ventured to blame him for\nanything that he did. Cherry sent immediately, and ordered his old\nfriend to be brought to him, loaded heavily with irons. Then, full of\nfury, he went and shut himself up in his own chamber, where he went\nraging to and fro, till startled by a noise like a clap of thunder.\nThe Fairy Candide stood before him.\n\n\"Prince,\" said she, in a severe voice, \"I promised your father to give\nyou good counsels, and to punish you if you refused to follow them. My\ncounsels were forgotten, my punishments despised. Under the figure of\na man, you have been no better than the beasts you chase: like a lion\nin fury a wolf in gluttony, a serpent in revenge, and a bull in\nbrutality. Take, therefore, in your new form the likeness of all these\nanimals.\"\n\nScarcely had Prince Cherry heard these words, than to his horror he\nfound himself transformed into what the fairy had named. He was a\ncreature with the head of a lion, the horns of a bull the feet of a\nwolf, and the tail of a serpent. At the same time he felt himself\ntransported to a distant forest, where, standing on the bank of a\nstream, he saw reflected in the water his own frightful shape, and\nheard a voice saying:\n\n\"Look at thyself, and know thy soul has become a thousand times uglier\neven than thy body.\"\n\nCherry recognised the voice of Candide, and in his rage would have\nsprung upon her and devoured her; but he saw nothing, and the same\nvoice said behind him:\n\n\"Cease thy feeble fury, and learn to conquer thy pride by being in\nsubmission to thine own subjects.\"\n\nHearing no more, he soon quitted the stream, hoping at least to get\nrid of the sight of himself; but he had scarcely gone twenty paces\nwhen he tumbled into a pitfall that was laid to catch bears; the\nbear-hunters, descending from some trees hard by, caught him, chained\nhim, and, only too delighted to get hold of such a curious-looking\nanimal, led him along with them to the capital of his own kingdom.\n\nThere great rejoicings were taking place, and the bear-hunters, asking\nwhat it was all about, were told that it was because Prince Cherry,\nthe torment of his subjects, had just been struck dead by a\nthunderbolt--just punishment of all his crimes. Four courtiers, his\nwicked companions, had wished to divide his throne between them; but\nthe people had risen up against them, and offered the crown to\nSuliman, the old tutor whom Cherry had ordered to be arrested.\n\nAll this the poor monster heard. He even saw Suliman sitting upon his\nown throne, and trying to calm the populace by representing to them\nthat it was not certain Prince Cherry was dead, that he might return\none day to re-assume with honour the crown which Suliman only\nconsented to wear as a sort of viceroy.\n\n\"I know his heart,\" said the honest and faithful old man; \"it is\ntainted, but not corrupt. If alive, he may reform yet, and be all his\nfather over again to you, his people, whom he has caused to suffer so\nmuch.\"\n\nThese words touched the poor beast so deeply, that he ceased to beat\nhimself against the iron bars of the cage in which the hunters carried\nhim about, became gentle as a lamb, and suffered himself to be taken\nquietly to a menagerie, where were kept all sorts of strange and\nferocious animals--a place which he had himself often visited as a\nboy, but never thought he should be shut up there himself.\n\nHowever, he owned he had deserved it all, and began to make amends by\nshowing himself very obedient to his keeper. This man was almost as\ngreat a brute as the animals he had charge of, and when he was in ill\nhumour he used to beat them without rhyme or reason. One day, while he\nwas sleeping, a tiger broke loose, and leaped upon him, eager to\ndevour him. Cherry at first felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought\nof being revenged; then, seeing how helpless the man was, he wished\nhimself free, that he might defend him. Immediately the doors of his\ncage opened. The keeper, waking up, saw the strange beast leap out,\nand imagined, of course, that he was going to be slain at once.\nInstead, he saw the tiger lying dead, and the strange beast creeping\nup, and laying itself at his feet to be caressed. But as he lifted up\nhis hand to stroke it, a voice was heard saying, \"Good actions never\ngo unrewarded;\" and, instead of the frightful monster, there crouched\non the ground nothing but a pretty little dog.\n\nCherry, delighted to find himself thus metamorphosed, caressed the\nkeeper in every possible way, till at last the man took him up into\nhis arms and carried him to the king, to whom he related this\nwonderful story, from beginning to end. The queen wished to have the\ncharming little dog; and Cherry would have been exceedingly happy,\ncould he have forgotten that he was originally a man and a king. He\nwas lodged most elegantly, had the richest of collars to adorn his\nneck, and heard himself praised continually. But his beauty rather\nbrought him into trouble, for the queen, afraid lest he might grow too\nlarge for a pet, took advice of dog-doctors, who ordered that he\nshould be fed entirely upon bread, and that very sparingly; so poor\nCherry was sometimes nearly starved.\n\nOne day, when they gave him his crust for breakfast, a fancy seized\nhim to go and eat it in the palace-garden; so he took the bread in his\nmouth, and trotted away towards a stream which he knew, and where he\nsometimes stopped to drink. But instead of the stream he saw a\nsplendid palace, glittering with gold and precious stones. Entering\nthe doors was a crowd of men and women, magnificently dressed; and\nwithin there was singing and dancing, and good cheer of all sorts.\nYet, however grandly and gaily the people went in, Cherry noticed that\nthose who came out were pale, thin, ragged, half-naked, covered with\nwounds and sores. Some of them dropped dead at once; others dragged\nthemselves on a little way and then lay down, dying of hunger, and\nvainly begged a morsel of bread from others who were entering in--who\nnever took the least notice of them.\n\nCherry perceived one woman, who was trying feebly to gather and eat\nsome green herbs. \"Poor thing!\" said he to himself; \"I know what it is\nto be hungry, and I want my breakfast badly enough; but still it will\nnot kill me to wait till dinner-time, and my crust may save the life\nof this poor woman.\"\n\nSo the little dog ran up to her, and dropped his bread at her feet;\nshe picked it up, and ate it with avidity. Soon she looked quite\nrecovered, and Cherry, delighted, was trotting back again to his\nkennel, when he heard loud cries, and saw a young girl dragged by\nfour men to the door of the palace, which they were trying to compel\nher to enter. Oh, how he wished himself a monster again, as when he\nslew the tiger!--for the young girl was no other than his beloved\nZelia. Alas! what could a poor little dog do to defend her? But he ran\nforward and barked at the men, and bit their heels, until at last they\nchased him away with heavy blows. And then he lay down outside the\npalace-door, determined to watch and see what had become of Zelia.\n\nConscience pricked him now. \"What!\" thought he, \"I am furious against\nthese wicked men, who are carrying her away; and did I not do the same\nmyself? Did I not cast her into prison, and intend to sell her as a\nslave? Who knows how much more wickedness I might not have done to her\nand others, if heaven's justice had not stopped me in time?\"\n\nWhile he lay thinking and repenting, he heard a window open, and saw\nZelia throw out of it a bit of dainty meat. Cherry, who felt hungry\nenough by this time, was just about to eat it, when the woman to whom\nhe had given his crust snatched him up in her arms.\n\n\"Poor little beast!\" cried she, patting him, \"every bit of food in\nthat palace is poisoned: you shall not touch a morsel.\"\n\nAnd at the same time the voice in the air repeated again, \"Good\nactions never go unrewarded;\" and Cherry found himself changed into a\nbeautiful little white pigeon. He remembered with joy that white was\nthe colour of the Fairy Candide, and began to hope that she was\ntaking him into favour again.\n\nSo he stretched his wings, delighted that he might now have a chance\nof approaching his fair Zelia. He flew up to the palace-windows, and,\nfinding one of them open, entered and sought everywhere, but he could\nnot find Zelia. Then, in despair, he flew out again, resolved to go\nover the world until he beheld her once more.\n\nHe took flight at once, and traversed many countries, swiftly as a\nbird can, but found no trace of his beloved. At length in a desert,\nsitting beside an old hermit in his cave, and partaking with him his\nfrugal repast, Cherry saw a poor peasant-girl, and recognised Zelia.\nTransported with joy, he flew in, perched on her shoulder, and\nexpressed his delight and affection by a thousand caresses.\n\nShe, charmed with the pretty little pigeon, caressed it in her turn,\nand promised it that, if it would stay with her, she would love it\nalways.\n\n\"What have you done, Zelia?\" said the hermit, smiling; and while he\nspoke the white pigeon vanished, and there stood Prince Cherry in his\nown natural form. \"Your enchantment ended, prince, when Zelia promised\nto love you. Indeed, she has loved you always, but your many faults\nconstrained her to hide her love. These are now amended, and you may\nboth live happy if you will, because your union is founded upon mutual\nesteem.\"\n\nCherry and Zelia threw themselves at the feet of the hermit, whose\nform also began to change His soiled garments became of dazzling\nwhiteness, and his long beard and withered face grew into the flowing\nhair and lovely countenance of the Fairy Candide.\n\n\"Rise up, my children,\" said she; \"I must now transport you to your\npalace, and restore to Prince Cherry his father's crown, of which he\nis now worthy.\"\n\nShe had scarcely ceased speaking when they found themselves in the\nchamber of Suliman, who, delighted to find again his beloved pupil and\nmaster, willingly resigned the throne, and became the most faithful of\nhis subjects.\n\nKing Cherry and Queen Zelia reigned together for many years, and it is\nsaid that the former was so blameless and strict in all his duties,\nthat though he constantly wore the ring which Candide had restored to\nhim, it never once pricked his finger enough to make it bleed.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE SNOWDROP.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow\nfell like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window set in an\nebony frame, and sewed. While she was sewing and watching the snow\nfall, she pricked her finger with her needle, and three drops of blood\ndropped on the snow. And because the crimson looked so beautiful on\nthe white snow, she thought, \"Oh that I had a child as white as snow,\nas red as blood, and as black as the wood of this ebony frame!\"\n\nSoon afterwards she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow,\nas red as blood, and had hair as black as ebony. And when the child\nwas born, the queen died.\n\nAfter a year had gone by, the king took another wife. She was a\nhandsome lady, but proud and haughty, and could not endure that any\none should surpass her in beauty. She had a wonderful mirror, and\nwhenever she walked up to it, and looked at herself in it, she said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nThen the mirror replied:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Thou art the fairest of them all.\"\n\nAnd she was satisfied, for she knew the mirror always told the truth.\nBut Snowdrop grew ever taller and fairer, and at seven years old was\nbeautiful as the day, and more beautiful than the queen herself. So\nonce, when the queen asked of her mirror:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nit answered:\n\n    \"Lady queen, you are grand and tall,\n    But Snowdrop is fairest of you all.\"\n\nThen the queen was startled, and turned yellow and green with envy.\nFrom that hour she so hated Snowdrop, that she burned with secret\nwrath whenever she saw the maiden. Pride and envy grew apace like\nweeds in her heart, till she had no rest day or night. So she called a\nhuntsman and said, \"Take the child out in the forest, for I will\nendure her no longer in my sight. Kill her, and bring me her lungs and\nliver as tokens that you have done it.\"\n\nThe huntsman obeyed, and led the child away; but when he had drawn his\nhunting-knife, and was about to pierce Snowdrop's innocent heart, she\nbegan to weep, and said, \"Ah! dear huntsman, spare my life, and I will\nrun deep into the wild forest, and never more come home.\"\n\nThe huntsman took pity on her, because she looked so lovely, and said,\n\"Run away then, poor child!\"--\"The wild beasts will soon make an end\nof thee,\" he thought; but it seemed as if a stone had been rolled from\nhis heart, because he had avoided taking her life; and as a little\nbear came by just then, he killed it, took out its liver and lungs,\nand carried them as tokens to the queen. She made the cook dress them\nwith salt, and then the wicked woman ate them, and thought she had\neaten Snowdrop's lungs and liver. The poor child was now all alone in\nthe great forest, and she felt frightened as she looked at all the\nleafy trees, and knew not what to do. So she began to run, and ran\nover the sharp stones, and through the thorns; and the wild beasts\npassed close to her, but did her no harm. She ran as long as her feet\ncould carry her, and when evening closed in, she saw a little house,\nand went into it to rest herself. Everything in the house was very\nsmall, but I cannot tell you how pretty and clean it was.\n\nThere stood a little table, covered with a white tablecloth, on which\nwere seven little plates (each little plate with its own little\nspoon)--also seven little knives and forks, and seven little cups.\nRound the walls stood seven little beds close together, with sheets as\nwhite as snow. Snowdrop being so hungry and thirsty, ate a little of\nthe vegetables and bread on each plate, and drank a drop of wine from\nevery cup, for she did not like to empty one entirely.\n\nThen, being very tired, she laid herself down in one of the beds, but\ncould not make herself comfortable, for one was too long, and another\ntoo short. The seventh, luckily, was just right; so there she stayed,\nsaid her prayers, and fell asleep.\n\nWhen it was grown quite dark, home came the masters of the house,\nseven dwarfs, who delved and mined for iron among the mountains. They\nlighted their seven candles, and as soon as there was a light in the\nkitchen, they saw that some one had been there, for it was not quite\nso orderly as they had left it.\n\nThe first said, \"Who has been sitting on my stool?\"\n\nThe second, \"Who has eaten off my plate?\"\n\nThe third, \"Who has taken part of my loaf?\"\n\nThe fourth, \"Who has touched my vegetables?\"\n\nThe fifth, \"Who has used my fork?\"\n\nThe sixth, \"Who has cut with my knife?\"\n\nThe seventh, \"Who has drunk out of my little cup?\"\n\nThen the first dwarf looked about, and saw that there was a slight\nhollow in his bed, so he asked, \"Who has been lying in my little bed?\"\n\nThe others came running, and each called out, \"Some one has also been\nlying in my bed.\"\n\nBut the seventh, when he looked in his bed, saw Snowdrop there, fast\nasleep. He called the others, who flocked round with cries of\nsurprise, fetched their seven candles, and cast the light on Snowdrop.\n\n\"Oh, heaven!\" they cried, \"what a lovely child!\" and were so pleased\nthat they would not wake her, but let her sleep on in the little bed.\nThe seventh dwarf slept with all his companions in turn, an hour with\neach, and so they spent the night. When it was morning, Snowdrop woke\nup, and was frightened when she saw the seven dwarfs. They were very\nfriendly, however, and inquired her name.\n\n\"Snowdrop,\" answered she.\n\n\"How have you found your way to our house?\" further asked the dwarfs.\n\nSo she told them how her stepmother had tried to kill her, how the\nhuntsman had spared her life, and how she had run the whole day\nthrough, till at last she had found their little house.\n\nThen the dwarfs said, \"If thou wilt keep our house, cook, make the\nbeds, wash, sew and knit, and make all neat and clean, thou canst stay\nwith us, and shalt want for nothing.\"\n\n\"I will, right willingly,\" said Snowdrop. So she dwelt with them, and\nkept their house in order. Every morning they went out among the\nmountains, to seek iron and gold, and came home ready for supper in\nthe evening.\n\nThe maiden being left alone all day long, the good dwarfs warned her,\nsaying, \"Beware of thy wicked stepmother, who will soon find out that\nthou art here; take care that thou lettest nobody in.\"\n\nThe queen, however, after having, as she thought, eaten Snowdrop's\nlungs and liver, had no doubt that she was again the first and fairest\nwoman in the world; so she walked up to her mirror, and said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nThe mirror replied:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here, you are fairest of them all:\n    But over the hills, with the seven dwarfs old,\n    Lives Snowdrop, fairer a hundredfold.\"\n\nShe trembled, knowing the mirror never told a falsehood; she felt sure\nthat the huntsman had deceived her, and that Snowdrop was still alive.\nShe pondered once more, late and early, early and late, how best to\nkill Snowdrop; for envy gave her no rest, day or night, while she\nherself was not the fairest lady in the land. When she had planned\nwhat to do, she painted her face, dressed herself like an old\npedlar-woman, and altered her appearance so much, that no one could\nhave known her. In this disguise she went over the seven hills, to\nwhere the seven dwarfs dwelt, knocked at the door, and cried, \"Good\nwares, cheap! very cheap!\"\n\nSnowdrop looked out of the window and cried, \"Good morning, good\nwoman: what have you to sell?\"\n\n\"Good wares, smart wares,\" answered the queen--\"bodice laces of all\ncolours;\" and drew out one which was woven of coloured silk.\n\n\"I may surely let this honest dame in!\" thought Snowdrop; so she\nunfastened the door, and bought for herself the pretty lace.\n\n\"Child,\" said the old woman, \"what a figure thou art! Let me lace thee\nfor once properly.\" Snowdrop feared no harm, so stepped in front of\nher, and allowed her bodice to be fastened up with the new lace.\n\nBut the old woman laced so quick and laced so tight, that Snowdrop's\nbreath was stopped, and she fell down as if dead. \"Now I am fairest at\nlast,\" said the old woman to herself, and sped away.\n\nThe seven dwarfs came home soon after, at eventide, but how alarmed\nwere they to find their poor Snowdrop lifeless on the ground! They\nlifted her up, and, seeing that she was laced too tightly, cut the\nlace of her bodice; she began to breathe faintly, and slowly returned\nto life. When the dwarfs heard what had happened, they said, \"The old\npedlar-woman was none other than the wicked queen. Be careful of\nthyself, and open the door to no one if we are not at home.\"\n\nThe cruel stepmother walked up to her mirror when she reached home,\nand said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nTo which it answered, as usual:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here, you are fairest of them all;\n    But over the hills, with the seven dwarfs old,\n    Lives Snowdrop, fairer a hundredfold.\"\n\nWhen she heard this, she was so alarmed that all the blood rushed to\nher heart, for she saw plainly that Snowdrop was still alive.\n\n\"This time,\" said she, \"I will think of some means that shall destroy\nher utterly;\" and with the help of witchcraft, in which she was\nskilful, she made a poisoned comb. Then she changed her dress and took\nthe shape of another old woman.\n\nAgain she crossed the seven hills to the home of the seven dwarfs,\nknocked at the door, and cried, \"Good wares, very cheap!\"\n\nSnowdrop looked out and said, \"Go away--I dare let no one in.\"\n\n\"You may surely be allowed to look!\" answered the old woman, and she\ndrew out the poisoned comb and held it up. The girl was so pleased\nwith it that she let herself be cajoled, and opened the door.\n\nWhen the bargain was struck, the dame said, \"Now let me dress your\nhair properly for once.\" Poor Snowdrop took no heed, and let the old\nwoman begin; but the comb had scarcely touched her hair before the\npoison worked, and she fell down senseless.\n\n\"Paragon of beauty!\" said the wicked woman, \"all is over with thee\nnow,\" and went away.\n\nLuckily, it was near evening, and the seven dwarfs soon came home.\nWhen they found Snowdrop lifeless on the ground, they at once\ndistrusted her stepmother. They searched, and found the poisoned comb;\nand as soon as they had drawn it out, Snowdrop came to herself, and\ntold them what had happened. Again they warned her to be careful, and\nopen the door to no one.\n\nThe queen placed herself before the mirror at home and said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nBut it again answered:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here you are fairest of them all;\n    But over the hills, with the seven dwarfs old,\n    Lives Snowdrop, fairer a thousandfold.\"\n\nWhen she heard the mirror speak thus, she quivered with rage.\n\"Snowdrop shall die,\" she cried, \"if it costs my own life!\"\n\nThen she went to a secret and lonely chamber, where no one ever\ndisturbed her, and compounded an apple of deadly poison. Ripe and rosy\ncheeked, it was so beautiful to look upon, that all who saw it longed\nfor it; but it brought death to any who should eat it. When the apple\nwas ready, she painted her face, disguised herself as a peasant-woman,\nand journeyed over the seven hills to where the seven dwarfs dwelt. At\nthe sound of the knock, Snowdrop put her head out of the window, and\nsaid, \"I cannot open the door to anybody, for the seven dwarfs have\nforbidden me to do so.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied the peasant-woman; \"I only want to be rid of my\napples. Here, I will give you one of them!\"\n\n\"No!\" said Snowdrop, \"I dare not take it.\"\n\n\"Art thou afraid of being poisoned?\" asked the old woman. \"Look here;\nI will cut the apple in two, and you shall eat the rosy side, and I\nthe white.\"\n\nNow the fruit was so cunningly made, that only the rosy side was\npoisoned. Snowdrop longed for the pretty apple; and when she saw the\npeasant-woman eating it, she could resist no longer, but stretched out\nher hand and took the poisoned half. She had scarcely tasted it, when\nshe fell lifeless to the ground.\n\nThe queen, laughing loudly, watched her with a barbarous look, and\ncried, \"O thou who art white as snow, red as blood, and black as\nebony, the seven dwarfs cannot awaken thee this time!\"\n\nAnd when she asked the mirror at home,\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nthe mirror at last replied,\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    You are the fairest of them all.\"\n\nSo her envious heart had as much repose as an envious heart can ever\nknow.\n\nWhen the dwarfs came home in the evening, they found Snowdrop lying\nbreathless and motionless on the ground. They lifted her up, searched\nwhether she had anything poisonous about her, unlaced her, combed her\nhair, washed her with water and with wine; but all was useless, for\nthey could not bring the darling back to life. They laid her on a\nbier, and all the seven placed themselves round it, and mourned for\nher three long days. Then they would have buried her, but that she\nstill looked so fresh and life-like, and had such lovely rosy cheeks.\n\"We cannot lower her into the dark earth,\" said they; and caused a\ntransparent coffin of glass to be made, so that she could be seen on\nall sides, and laid her in it, writing her name outside in letters of\ngold, which told that she was the daughter of a king. Then they placed\nthe coffin on the mountain above, and one of them always stayed by it\nand guarded it. But there was little need to guard it, for even the\nwild animals came and mourned for Snowdrop: the birds likewise--first\nan owl, and then a raven, and afterwards a dove.\n\nLong, long years, did Snowdrop lie in her coffin unchanged, looking as\nthough asleep, for she was still white as snow, red as blood, and her\nhair was black as ebony. At last the son of a king chanced to wander\ninto the forest, and came to the dwarf's house for a night's shelter.\nHe saw the coffin on the mountain with the beautiful Snowdrop in it,\nand read what was written there in letters of gold. Then he said to\nthe dwarfs, \"Let me have the coffin! I will give you whatever you like\nto ask for it.\"\n\nBut the dwarfs answered, \"We would not part with it for all the gold\nin the world.\"\n\nHe said again, \"Yet give it me; for I cannot live without seeing\nSnowdrop, and though she is dead, I will prize and honour her as my\nbeloved.\"\n\nThen the good dwarfs took pity on him, and gave him the coffin. The\nprince had it borne away by his servants. They happened to stumble\nover a bush, and the shock forced the bit of poisoned apple which\nSnowdrop had tasted out of her throat. Immediately she opened her\neyes, raised the coffin-lid, and sat up alive once more. \"Oh, heaven!\"\ncried she, \"where am I?\"\n\nThe prince answered joyfully, \"Thou art with me,\" and told her what\nhad happened, saying, \"I love thee more dearly than anything else in\nthe world. Come with me to my father's castle, and be my wife.\"\n\nSnowdrop, well pleased, went with him, and they were married with much\nstate and grandeur.\n\nThe wicked stepmother was invited to the feast. Richly dressed, she\nstood before the mirror, and asked of it:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nThe mirror answered:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here, you are fairest among them all;\n    But the young queen over the mountains old,\n    Is fairer than you a thousandfold.\"\n\nThe evil-hearted woman uttered a curse, and could scarcely endure her\nanguish. She first resolved not to attend the wedding, but curiosity\nwould not allow her to rest. She determined to travel, and see who\nthat young queen could be, who was the most beautiful in all the\nworld. When she came, and found that it was Snowdrop alive again, she\nstood petrified with terror and despair. Then two iron shoes, heated\nburning hot, were drawn out of the fire with a pair of tongs, and laid\nbefore her feet. She was forced to put them on, and to go and dance at\nSnowdrop's wedding--dancing, dancing on these red hot shoes till she\nfell down dead.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLUE BIRD.\n\n\nA powerful and wealthy king, having lost his wife, was so\ninconsolable, that he shut himself up for eight entire days, in a\nlittle cabinet, where he spent his time in knocking his head against\nthe wall, until the courtiers were afraid he would kill himself! They\naccordingly placed stuffed mattresses over every wall, and allowed all\nhis subjects, who desired, to pay him a visit, trusting that something\nwould be said to alleviate his grief. But neither grave nor lively\ndiscourse made any impression upon him; he scarcely heard what was\nspoken. At last there presented herself before him a lady, covered\nfrom head to foot in a long crape veil, who wept and sobbed so much\nthat the king noticed her. She told him that she did not come, like\nthe rest, to console him, but rather to encourage his grief. She\nherself had lost the best of husbands, and here she began to weep so\nprofusely, that it was a wonder her eyes were not melted out of her\nhead. The king began to weep in company, and to talk to her of his\ndear wife--she did the same of her dear husband: in fact they talked\nso much, that they talked their sorrow quite away. Then, lifting up\nher veil, she showed lovely blue eyes and dark eyelashes. The king\nnoticed her more and more--he spoke less and less of the departed\nqueen; by and by he ceased to speak of her at all. The end was, that\nhe courted the inconsolable lady in the black veil, and married her.\n\nBy his first marriage he had one daughter, called Florina, or the\nlittle Flora, because she was so fresh and lovely; at the time of his\nsecond marriage she was quite fifteen years old. The new queen also\nhad a daughter, who was being brought up by her godmother, the fairy\nSoussio--her name was Troutina, because her complexion was all spotted\nlike a trout's back. Indeed, she was altogether ugly and disagreeable;\nand when contrasted with Florina, the difference between the two made\nthe mother so envious, that she and Troutina spared no pains to make\nthe princess's life unhappy, and to speak ill of her to her father.\n\nOne day the king observed that both girls were now old enough to be\nmarried, and that he intended to choose for one of them the first\nprince who visited his court.\n\n\"Be it so,\" said the queen; \"and as my daughter is older, handsomer,\nand more amiable than yours, she shall have the first choice.\" The\nking disputed nothing; indeed, he never did--the queen ruled him in\nall things.\n\nSome time after, news came that King Charming would shortly arrive,\nand that he was as charming as his name. When the queen heard this\nnews, she sent for milliners, dressmakers, jewellers, and decked\nTroutina from head to foot; but to Florina she allowed not a single\nnew frock The poor princess had to put on her old one, which was very\nold and shabby indeed, she was so much ashamed of it, that she hid\nherself in a corner of the saloon, lest King Charming should see her.\nBut he did not, being overwhelmed with the ceremonious reception given\nhim by the queen, who presented to him Troutina, all blazing with\njewels, yet so ugly that King Charming involuntarily turned away his\neyes.\n\n\"But, madam, is there not another princess called Florina?\"\n\nThey pointed to the corner where Florina was hidden, and she came out,\nblushing so much, that the young king was dazzled with her beauty, in\nspite of her shabby gown. He rose, and made her a profound reverence,\npaying her besides so many elegant compliments, that the queen became\nvery much displeased. King Charming took no heed, but conversed with\nFlorina for three hours without stopping. Indeed, his admiration of\nher was so plain, that the queen and Troutina begged of the king that\nshe might be shut up in a tower during the whole time of his visit;\nso, as soon as she had returned to her apartment, four men in masks\nentered, and carried her off, leaving her in a dark cell, and in the\nutmost desolation.\n\nMeantime King Charming eagerly awaited her re-appearance, but he saw\nher no more; and by the queen's orders, every one about him spoke all\nthe evil they could of poor Florina, but he refused to believe one\nword. \"No,\" said he, \"nature could not have united a base nature to\nsuch a sweet innocent face. I will rather suppose that she is\nmaligned by her stepmother and by Troutina, who is so ugly herself\nthat no wonder she bears envy towards the fairest woman in the world.\"\n\nMeanwhile Florina, shut up in her tower, lamented bitterly. \"Ah, would\nI had been sent here before I saw this amiable prince, who was so kind\nto me! It is to prevent my meeting him again, that the queen treats me\nso cruelly. Alas! the little beauty I have has cost me sore!\"\n\nThe queen, to win King Charming for her daughter, made him many\npresents; among the rest an order of knighthood, a golden heart,\nenamelled in flame-colour, surrounded with many arrows, but pierced by\none only, the motto being, \"_She alone_.\" The heart was made of a\nsingle ruby, as big as an ostrich's egg. Each arrow was a diamond, a\nfinger's length, and the chain was of pearls, each weighing a pound.\nWhen the young king received this very handsome present, he was much\nperplexed, until they told him it came from the princess whom he had\nlately seen, and who requested him to be her knight.\n\n\"Florina!\" cried he, enchanted.\n\n\"No, Troutina.\"\n\n\"Then I am sorry I cannot accept the honour,\" replied King Charming.\n\"A monarch is surely at liberty to form his own engagements. I know\nwhat is a knight's duty to his lady, and should wish to fulfil it; as\nI cannot fulfil it to Troutina, I would rather decline the favour she\noffers me than become unworthy of it.\"\n\nCivil as this answer was, it irritated the queen and her daughter\nexceedingly; and when, since in all his audiences with their majesties\nhe never saw Florina, he at last inquired where the younger princess\nwas, the queen answered fiercely, that she was shut up in prison, and\nwould remain there till Troutina was married.\n\n\"And for what reason?\" asked King Charming.\n\n\"I do not know; and if I did, I would not tell you,\" replied the\nqueen, more angrily than ever; so that King Charming quitted her\npresence as soon as ever he could.\n\nWhen he was alone, he sent for one of his attendants, whom he trusted\nvery much, and begged him to gain information from some court lady\nabout the princess Florina. This scheme succeeded so well, that\nFlorina was persuaded to promise she would speak to him for a few\nmoments next night, from a small window at the bottom of the tower.\nBut the faithless lady-in-waiting betrayed her to the queen, who\nlocked her up in her chamber, and determined to send her own daughter\nto the window instead. The night was so dark that King Charming never\nfound out the difference, but made to Troutina all the tender speeches\nthat he meant for Florina, offering her his crown and his heart, and\nending by placing his own ring on her finger, as a pledge of eternal\nfidelity. He also made her agree to fly with him next night, in a\nchariot drawn by winged frogs, of which a great magician, one of his\nfriends, had made him a present. He thought she talked very little,\nand that little not in quite so pleasant a voice as formerly; still,\nhe was too much in love to notice much, and departed very joyful in\nhaving obtained her promise.\n\nNext night Troutina, thickly veiled, quitted the palace by a secret\ndoor. King Charming met her, received her in his arms, and vowed to\nlove her for ever. Then he lifted her into the fairy chariot, and they\nsailed about in the air for some hours. But as he was not likely to\nwish to sail about for ever, he at last proposed that they should\ndescend to earth, and be married. Troutina agreed with all her heart,\nbut wished that the ceremony should be performed at her godmother's,\nthe fairy Soussio. So they entered together into the fairy-palace, and\nshe told her godmother privately how all had happened, and how she had\nwon King Charming, begging the fairy to pacify him when he found out\nhis mistake.\n\n\"My child,\" replied the godmother, \"that is more easily said than\ndone; he is too deeply in love with Florina.\"\n\nMeantime the king was left waiting in a chamber with diamond walls, so\nthin and transparent, that through them he saw Troutina and Soussio\nconversing together. He stood like a man in a dream: \"What! am I\nbetrayed? Has this enemy to my peace carried away my dear Florina?\"\n\nHow great was his despair, when Soussio said to him in a commanding\nvoice, \"King Charming, behold the princess Troutina, to whom you have\npromised your faith: marry her immediately!\"\n\n\"Do you think me a fool?\" cried the king; \"I have promised her\nnothing. She is--\"\n\n\"Stop--if you show me any disrespect--\"\n\n\"I will respect you as much as a fairy deserves to be respected, if\nyou will only give me back my princess.\"\n\n\"Am not I she?\" said Troutina. \"It was to me you gave this ring; to me\nyou spoke at the window.\"\n\n\"I have been wickedly deceived!\" cried the king; \"come, my winged\nfrogs, we will depart immediately.\"\n\n\"You cannot,\" said Soussio; and, touching him, he found himself fixed\nas if his feet were glued to the pavement.\n\n\"You may turn me into stone!\" exclaimed he; \"but I will love no one,\nexcept Florina.\"\n\nSoussio employed persuasions, threats, promises, entreaties. Troutina\nwept, groaned, shrieked, and then tried quiet sulkiness; but the king\nuttered not a word. For twenty days and twenty nights he stood there,\nwithout sleeping, or eating, or once sitting down--they talking all\nthe while.\n\nAt length, Soussio, quite worn out, said, \"Choose seven years of\npenitence and punishment, or marry my goddaughter.\"\n\n\"I choose,\" answered the king; \"and I will not marry your\ngoddaughter.\"\n\n\"Then fly out of this window, in the shape of a Blue Bird.\"\n\nImmediately the king's figure changed. His arms formed themselves into\nwings; his legs and feet turned black and thin, and claws grew upon\nthem; his body wasted into the slender shape of a bird, and was\ncovered with bright blue feathers; his eyes became round and beady;\nhis nose an ivory beak; and his crown was a white plume on the top of\nhis head. He began to speak in a singing voice, and then uttering a\ndoleful cry, fled away as far as possible from the fatal palace of\nSoussio.\n\nBut, though he looked only a blue bird, the king was his own natural\nself still, and remembered all his misfortunes, and did not cease to\nlament for his beautiful Florina. Flying from tree to tree, he sang\nmelancholy songs about her and himself, and wished he were dead many a\ntime.\n\nThe fairy Soussio sent back Troutina to her mother, who was furious.\n\"Florina shall repent having pleased King Charming!\" cried she; and\ndressing her own daughter in rich garments, with a gold crown on her\nhead, and King Charming's ring on her finger, she took her to the\ntower. \"Florina, your sister is come to see and bring you marriage\npresents, for she is now the wife of King Charming.\"\n\nFlorina, doubting no more her lover's loss, fell down in a swoon, and\nthe queen immediately went to tell her father that she was mad for\nlove, and must be watched closely lest she should in some way disgrace\nherself. The king said, her stepmother might do with her exactly what\nshe pleased.\n\nWhen the princess recovered from her swoon, she began to weep, and\nwept all night long, sitting at the open window of her tower. The Blue\nBird, who kept continually flying about the palace, but only at night\ntime, lest any one should see him, happened to come and perch upon a\ntall cypress opposite the window, and heard her; but it was too dark\nto see who she was, and at daylight she shut the window. Next night,\nit was broad moonlight, and then he saw clearly the figure of a young\ngirl, weeping sore, and knew that it was his beloved Florina.\n\nWhen she paused in her lamentations, \"Adorable princess,\" said he,\n\"why do you mourn? Your troubles are not without remedy.\"\n\n\"Who speaks to me so gently?\" asked she.\n\n\"A king, who loves you, and will never love any other.\"\n\nSo saying he flew up to the window, and at first frightened the\nprincess very much, for she could not understand such an extraordinary\nthing as a bird who talked in words like a man, yet kept still the\npiping voice of a nightingale. But soon she began stroking his\nbeautiful plumage, and caressing him.\n\n\"Who are you, charming bird?\"\n\n\"You have spoken my name. I am King Charming, condemned to be a bird\nfor seven years, because I will not renounce you.\"\n\n\"Ah! do not deceive me. I know you have married Troutina. She came to\nvisit me with your diamonds on her neck, and your ring on her finger,\nwearing the golden crown and royal mantle which you had given her,\nwhile I was laden with iron chains.\"\n\n\"It is all false,\" sang the Blue Bird, and told her his whole story,\nwhich comforted her so much that she thought no more of her\nmisfortunes. They conversed till daybreak, and promised faithfully\nevery night to meet again thus.\n\nMeantime the princess could not sleep for thinking of her Blue Bird.\n\"Suppose sportsmen should shoot him, or eagles and kites attack him,\nand vultures devour him just as if he were a mere bird and not a great\nking? What should I do if I saw his poor feathers scattered on the\nground, and knew that he was no more?\" So she grieved all day long.\n\nThe beautiful Blue Bird, hid in a hollow tree, spent the hours in\nthinking of his princess. \"How happy I am to have found her again, and\nfound her so engaging and so sweet.\" And as he wished to pay her all\nthe attentions that a lover delights in, he flew to his own kingdom,\nentered his palace by an open window, and sought for some diamond\near-rings, which he brought back in his beak, and, when night came,\noffered them to Florina. So night after night he brought her something\nbeautiful, and they talked together till day, when he flew back to the\nhollow tree, where he sang her praises in a voice so sweet that the\npassers-by thought it was not a bird but a spirit. Rumours went about\nthat the place was haunted, and no one would go near the spot. Thus,\nfor two years, Florina spent her time, and never once regretted her\ncaptivity. Her Blue Bird visited her every night, and they loved one\nanother dearly. And though she saw nobody and he lived in the hollow\nof a tree, they always found plenty to say to one another.\n\nThe malicious queen tried with all her might to get Troutina married,\nbut in vain. Nobody would have her. \"If it were Florina, now,\" said\nthe kings, or the kings' ambassadors, \"we should be most happy to sign\nthe contract.\"\n\n\"That girl thwarts us still,\" said the queen. \"She must have some\nsecret correspondence with foreign suitors. But we will find her out\nand punish her.\"\n\nThe mother and daughter finished talking so late that it was midnight\nbefore they reached Florina's apartment. She had dressed herself as\nusual, with the utmost care, to please her Blue Bird, who liked to see\nher lovely; and she had adorned herself with all the pretty things he\nhad given her. He perched on the window-sill, and she sat at the\nwindow, and they were singing together a duet, which the queen heard\noutside. She burst the door open, and rushed into the chamber.\n\nThe first thing Florina did was to open her little window that the\nBlue Bird might fly away. But he would not. He had seen the queen and\nTroutina, and though he could not defend his princess, he refused to\nleave her. The two rushed upon her like furies. Her wonderful beauty\nand her splendid jewels startled them. \"Whence came all these\nornaments?\" cried they.\n\n\"I found them,\" replied Florina, and refused to answer more.\n\n\"Some one has given them to you that you might join in treason\nagainst your father and the kingdom.\n\n\"Am I likely to do this? I, a poor princess, kept in captivity for two\nyears, with you as my gaoler?\"\n\n\"In captivity,\" repeated the queen. \"Why, then, do you dress yourself\nso fine, and adorn your chamber with flowers?\"\n\n\"I have leisure enough: I may just as well spend some of it in\nadorning myself, instead of bemoaning my misfortune--innocent as I\nam.\"\n\n\"Innocent, indeed!\" cried the queen, and began to search the room. In\nit she found all King Charming's presents--diamonds, rubies, emeralds,\namethysts--in short, jewels without end. Meantime, from the window the\nBlue Bird, who had the eye of a lynx, sang aloud, \"Beware, Florina!\"\n\n\"You see, madam,\" said Florina, \"even the spirits of the air take pity\nupon me.\"\n\n\"I see that you are in league with demons; but your father shall judge\nyou;\" and, very much frightened, the queen left her, and went to hold\ncounsel with Troutina as to what was to be done. They agreed to put in\nFlorina's chamber a waiting-maid, who should watch her from morning\ntill night. When the princess learnt this she was in great grief.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried she, \"I can no longer talk with my bird who loved me so;\nand our love was consolation for all our misfortunes. What will he do?\nWhat shall I do?\" And she melted into floods of tears.\n\nShe dared not open the window, though she heard continually his wings\nfluttering round it. For more than a month she waited; but the\nserving-maid watched her night and day. At last, overcome with\nweariness, the girl fell asleep, and then Florina opened her little\nwindow, and sang in a low voice--\n\n    \"Blue Bird, Blue Bird,\n    Come to my side.\"\n\nThe Blue Bird flew to the window-sill, and they lavished on one\nanother a hundred caresses, and talked together till dawn. Next night\nit happened the same, till they began to hope that the waiting-maid,\nwho seemed to enjoy her sleep so much, would sleep every night to\ncome. But on the third night, hearing a noise, she wakened, and saw by\nthe light of the moon the Princess Florina sitting at the window with\na beautiful Blue Bird, who warbled in her ear and touched her gently\nwith his beak. The spy listened and heard all their conversation, very\nmuch astonished that a princess could be so fond of a mere bird. When\nday came she related all to the queen and Troutina, who concluded that\nthe bird could be no other than King Charming. They sent the girl\nback, told her to express no curiosity, but to feign sleep, and to go\nto bed earlier than usual. Then the poor deceived princess opened her\nlittle window, and sang her usual song--\n\n    \"Blue Bird, Blue Bird,\n    Come to my side.\"\n\nBut no Blue Bird appeared. The queen had caused sharp knives to be\nhung outside the hollow of the tree: he flew against them and cut his\nfeet and wings, till he dropped down, covered with blood.\n\n\"Oh, Florina, come to my help!\" sighed he, \"But she is dead, I know,\nand I will die also.\"\n\nAt that moment, his friend, the magician, who since he had seen the\nchariot with flying frogs return without King Charming, had gone eight\ntimes round the world in search of him, made his ninth journey, and\ncame to the tree where the poor Blue Bird lay, calling out, \"King\nCharming, King Charming!\"\n\nThe king recognised the voice of his best friend: whereupon the\nmagician took him out of the hollow tree, healed his wounds, and heard\nall his history. He persuaded King Charming that, overcome with fear\nand cruel treatment, Florina must have betrayed him.\n\n\"Then do as you will with me!\" cried the king. \"Put me into a cage and\ntake me back with you. I shall at least be safe there for the five\nyears that are to be endured.\"\n\n\"But,\" said the enchanter, \"can you remain five years in so\nundignified a position? And you have enemies who will assuredly seize\non your kingdom.\"\n\n\"Why can I not return and govern it as before?\"\n\n\"I fear,\" replied his friend, \"that the thing is difficult. Who would\nobey a Blue Bird?\"\n\n\"Ah, that is too true!\" cried the king, sadly, \"People only judge by\nthe outside.\"\n\nMeantime Florina, overcome with grief, fell dangerously sick, and in\nher sickness she kept singing, day and night, her little song--\n\n    \"Blue Bird, Blue Bird,\n    Come to my side.\"\n\nBut no one regarded her.\n\nAt last a sudden change took place in her fortunes. The king her\nfather died, and the people, who knew she was his heir, began to\ninquire, with one accord, where was the Princess Florina? They\nassailed the palace in crowds, demanding her for their sovereign. The\nriot became so dangerous that Troutina and her mother fled away to the\nfairy Soussio. Then the populace stormed the tower, rescued the sick\nand almost dying princess, and crowned her as their queen.\n\nThe exceeding care that was taken of her, and her longing to live in\norder to see again her Blue Bird, restored Florina's health, and gave\nher strength to call a council and arrange all the affairs of her\nkingdom. Then she departed by night, and alone, to go over the world\nin search of her Blue Bird.\n\nThe magician, who was King Charming's friend, went to the fairy\nSoussio, whom he knew, for they had quarrelled and made it up again,\nas fairies and magicians do, many times within the last five or six\nhundred years. She received him civilly, and asked him what he wanted.\nHe tried to make a bargain with her but could effect nothing, unless\nKing Charming would consent to marry Troutina. The enchanter found\nthis bride so ugly that he could not advise. Still, the Blue Bird had\nrun so many risks in his cage: the nail it was hung upon had broken,\nand the king suffered much in the fall; Minetta, the cat, had glowered\nat him with her green eyes; the attendants had forgotten his hemp-seed\nand his water-glass, so that he was half dying of hunger and thirst;\nand a monkey had plucked at his feathers through the wires as\ndisrespectfully as if, instead of a king, he had been a linnet or a\njay. Worse than all, his next heir spread reports of his death, and\nthreatened to seize on his throne.\n\nUnder these circumstances the magician thought it best to agree with\nSoussio that King Charming should be restored to his kingdom and his\nnatural shape for six months, on condition that Troutina should remain\nin his palace, and that he should try to like her and marry her. If\nnot, he was to become again a Blue Bird. So he found himself once more\nKing Charming, and as charming as ever; but he would rather have been\na bird and near his beloved, than a king in the society of Troutina.\nThe enchanter gave him the best reasons for what had been done, and\nadvised him to occupy himself with the affairs of his kingdom and\npeople; but he thought less of these things than how to escape from\nthe horror of marrying Troutina.\n\nMeanwhile the Queen Florina, in a peasant's dress, with a straw hat on\nher head, and a canvas sack on her shoulder, began her journey:\nsometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, sometimes by sea, sometimes\nby land, wandering; evermore after her beloved King Charming. One\nday, stopping beside a fountain, she let her hair fall loose, and\ndipped her weary feet in the cool water, when an old woman, bent, and\nleaning on a stick, came by.\n\n\"My pretty maiden, what are you doing here all alone?\"\n\n\"Good mother,\" replied the queen, \"I have too many troubles to be\npleasant company for anybody.\"\n\n\"Tell me your troubles, and I may be able to soften them.\"\n\nFlorina obeyed, and told her whole history, and how she was travelling\nover the world in search of the Blue Bird. The little woman listened\nattentively, and then, in the twinkling of an eye, became, instead of\nan old woman, a beautiful fairy.\n\n\"Incomparable Florina, the king you seek is no longer a bird; my\nsister Soussio has restored him to his proper shape, and he reigns in\nhis own kingdom. Do not afflict yourself; happiness will yet be yours.\nTake these four eggs, and whenever you are in trouble, break them, and\nsee what ensues.\" So saying, the fairy vanished.\n\nFlorina, greatly comforted, put the eggs in her sack, and turned her\nsteps towards the country of King Charming. She walked eight days and\nnights without stopping, and then came to a mountain made entirely of\nivory, and nearly perpendicular. Despairing of ever climbing it, she\nsank down at the foot, prepared to die there, when she bethought\nherself of the eggs. \"Let me see,\" said she, \"if the fairy has\ndeceived me or not.\" So she broke one, and inside it were little\nhooks of gold, which she fitted on her feet and hands, and by means of\nwhich she climbed the mountain with ease. Arrived at the summit she\nfound new difficulties; for the valley below was one large smooth\nmirror, in which sixty thousand women stood admiring themselves. They\nhad need, for the charm of the mirror was that each saw herself\ntherein, not as she was, but as she wished to be; and the grimaces\nthey made were enough to cause a person to die of laughter. Not one of\nthem had ever gained the top of the mountain; and when they saw\nFlorina there, they all burst into angry outcries, \"How has this woman\ngot up the hill? If she descends upon our mirror her first footstep\nwill crack it into a thousand pieces.\"\n\nThe queen, uncertain what to do, broke the second egg, and there flew\nout two pigeons harnessed to a fine chariot, in which Florina mounted,\nand descended lightly over the mirror to the valley's foot. \"Now, my\npretty pigeons,\" said she, \"will you convey me to the palace of King\nCharming?\" The obedient pigeons did so, flying day and night till they\nreached the city gates; when the queen dismissed them with a sweet\nkiss, which was worth more than her crown.\n\nHow her heart beat as she entered, and begged to see the king! \"You!\"\ncried the servants mocking. \"Little peasant-girl, your eyes are not\nhalf good enough to see the king. Besides, he is going to-morrow to\nthe temple with the Princess Troutina, whom he has at last agreed to\nmarry.\"\n\nFlorina sat down on a door-step, and hid her face under her straw hat\nand her drooping hair. \"Alas!\" she cried, \"my Blue Bird has forsaken\nme.\"\n\nShe neither ate nor slept, but rose with the dawn, and pushed her way\nthrough the guards to the temple, where she saw two thrones, one for\nKing Charming, and the other for Troutina. They arrived shortly; he\nmore charming and she more repulsive than ever. Knitting her brows,\nTroutina exclaimed, \"What creature is that who dares approach so near\nmy golden throne?\"\n\n\"I am a poor peasant-girl,\" said Florina. \"I come from afar to sell\nyou curiosities.\" And she took out of her sack the emerald bracelets\nwhich the Blue Bird had given her.\n\n\"These are pretty trinkets,\" said Troutina; and going up to the king\nshe asked him what he thought of them. At sight of the ornaments he\nturned pale, remembering those he had given to Florina.\n\n\"These bracelets are worth half my kingdom; I did not think there had\nbeen more than one pair in the world.\"\n\n\"Then I will buy these,\" said Troutina; but Florina refused to sell\nthem for money: the price she asked was permission to sleep a night in\nthe Chamber of Echoes.\n\n\"As you will; your bargains are cheap enough,\" replied Troutina,\nlaughing: and when she laughed she showed teeth like the tusks of a\nwild boar.\n\nNow the king, when he was a Blue Bird, had informed Florina about this\nChamber of Echoes, where every word spoken could be heard in his own\nchamber; she could not have chosen a better way of reproaching him for\nhis infidelity. But vain were her sobs and complainings; the king had\ntaken opium to lull his grief; he slept soundly all night long. Next\nday, Florina was in great disquietude. Could he have really heard her,\nand been indifferent to her sorrow; or had he not heard her at all?\nShe determined to buy another night in the Chamber of Echoes; but she\nhad no more jewels to tempt Troutina; so she broke the third egg. Out\nof it came a chariot of polished steel, inlaid with gold, drawn by six\ngreen mice, the coachman being a rose-coloured rat, and the postilion\na grey one. Inside the carriage sat little puppets, who behaved\nthemselves just like live ladies and gentlemen.\n\nWhen Troutina went to walk in the palace garden, Florina awaited her\nin a green alley, and made the mice gallop, and the ladies and\ngentlemen bow, till the princess was delighted, and ready to buy the\ncuriosity at any price. Again Florina exacted permission to pass the\nnight in the Chamber of Echoes; and again the king, undisturbed by her\nlamentation, slept without waking till dawn.\n\nThe third day, one of the palace valets, passing her by, said, \"You\nstupid peasant-girl, it is well the king takes opium every night, or\nyou would disturb him by that terrible sobbing of yours.\"\n\n\"Does he so?\" said the queen, now comprehending all. \"Then if you will\npromise to-night to keep the opium cup out of his way, these pearls\nand diamonds,\" and she took a handful of them from her sack, \"shall\nassuredly be yours.\"\n\nThe valet promised; and then Florina broke her fourth egg, out of\nwhich came a pie composed of birds, which, though they had been\nplucked, baked, and made ready for the table, sang as beautifully as\nbirds that are alive. Troutina, charmed with this marvellous novelty,\nbought it at the same price as the rest, adding generously a small\npiece of gold.\n\nWhen all the palace were asleep, Florina for the last time, hoping\nKing Charming would hear her, called upon him with all sorts of tender\nexpressions, reminding him of their former vows, and their two years\nof happiness. \"What have I done to thee, that thou shouldst forget me\nand marry Troutina?\" sobbed she; and the king, who this time was wide\nawake, heard her. He could not make out whose voice it was, or whence\nit came, but it somehow reminded him of his dearest Florina, whom he\nhad never ceased to love. He called his valet, inquired who was\nsleeping in the Chamber of Echoes, and heard that it was the little\npeasant-girl who had sold to Troutina the emerald bracelet. Then he\nrose up, dressed himself hastily, and went in search of her. She was\nsitting mournfully on the floor, with her hair hiding her face, and\nher eyes swollen with tears; but he knew at once his faithful Florina.\nHe fell on his knees before her covered her hands with kisses, and\nthey embraced and wept together. For what was the good of all their\nlove when they were still in the power of the fairy Soussio?\n\nBut at this moment appeared the friendly enchanter, with a fairy still\ngreater than Soussio, the one who had given Florina the four eggs.\nThey declared that their united power was stronger than Soussio's, and\nthat the lovers should be married without further delay.\n\nWhen this news reached Troutina, she ran to the Chamber of Echoes, and\nthere beheld her beautiful rival, whom she had so cruelly afflicted.\nBut the moment she opened her mouth to speak, her wicked tongue was\nsilenced for ever; for the magician turned her into a trout, which he\nflung out of the window into the stream that flowed through the castle\ngarden.\n\nAs for King Charming and Queen Florina, delivered out of all their\nsorrows, and given to one another, their joy was quite inexpressible,\nand it lasted to the end of their lives.\n\n     _Note._--It will be seen that this tale, which is from the\n     French, bears a curious resemblance to Grimm's story of \"The\n     Iron Stove,\" except that the latter retains a brevity and\n     German simplicity, not found here. This family likeness may\n     be traced in the fairy tales of all countries. I merely\n     refer to it to show that the repetition of incidents was not\n     unobserved or unintentional.--EDITOR.\n\n\n\n\nTHE YELLOW DWARF.\n\n\nThere was once a queen, who had been the mother of several children,\nbut all were dead, except one daughter, of whom she was excessively\nfond, humouring and indulging her in all her ways and wishes. This\nprincess was so extremely beautiful, that she was called All-Fair, and\ntwenty kings were, at one time, paying their addresses to her. She had\nso many lovers, indeed, that she did not know which to choose, and\nrefused them all. Her mother, being advanced in years, was anxious to\nsee her married and settled before she died; but as no entreaties\ncould prevail, she determined to go to the Desert Fairy to ask advice\nconcerning her stubborn daughter.\n\nNow, this fairy being guarded by two fierce lions, the queen made a\ncake of millet, sugar-candy, and crocodiles' eggs, in order to appease\ntheir fury, and pass by them; and having thus provided herself, she\nset out. After travelling some time she found herself weary, and lying\ndown under a tree fell asleep. When she awoke, she heard the roaring\nof the lions which guarded the fairy, and on looking for her cake she\nfound it was gone. This threw her into the utmost agony, as she felt\nsure she should be devoured; when, hearing somebody approach, she\nraised her eyes, and saw in a tree a little yellow man half a yard\nhigh, picking and eating oranges.\n\n\"Ah! queen,\" said the Yellow Dwarf, for so he was called on account of\nhis complexion, and the orange-tree in which he lived, \"how will you\nescape the lions? There is but one way; I know what business brought\nyou here; promise me your daughter in marriage and I will save you.\"\n\nThe queen, though she could not look without horror upon so frightful\na figure, was forced to consent; and having agreed to the terms\nproposed, she instantly found herself in her own palace, and all that\nhad passed seemed much like a dream: nevertheless, she was so\nthoroughly persuaded of the reality of it, that she became melancholy.\n\nThe young princess being unable to learn the cause of her mother's\ndejection, resolved in her turn to go and inquire of the Desert Fairy;\nand, accordingly, having prepared a cake for the lions, she also set\noff on the same journey. It happened that All-Fair took exactly the\nroute her mother had done before her; and coming to the fatal tree\nwhich was loaded with oranges, she felt inclined to pick some;\ntherefore, laying down her basket, in which she carried the cake, she\nplentifully indulged herself with the delicious fruit.\n\nThe lions now began to roar; All-Fair, looking for her cake, was\nthrown into the utmost despair to find it gone; and as she was\nlamenting her deplorable situation, the Yellow Dwarf presented himself\nto her with these words:--\"Lovely princess, dry your tears, and hear\nwhat I am going to say. You need not proceed to the Desert Fairy, to\nknow the reason of your mother's indisposition--it is this: she is\nungenerous enough to repent having promised you, her only daughter, to\nme in marriage--\"\n\n\"How!\" interrupted the princess; \"my mother promised me to you in\nmarriage;--you such a fright as you!\"\n\n\"None of your scoffs,\" returned the Yellow Dwarf; \"I warn you not to\nrouse my anger. If you will promise to marry me, I will be the\ntenderest and most loving husband in the world; if not, save yourself\nfrom the lions, if you can.\"\n\nThe princess, overcome with terror, gave the promise; but such was the\nagony of her mind, that she fell into a swoon, and, when she\nrecovered, she found herself in her own bed, finely adorned with\nribands, with a ring of a single red hair so fastened round her finger\nthat it could not be got off.\n\nThis adventure had the same effect upon All Fair as the former one had\nhad upon her mother. She grew melancholy, which was remarked and\nwondered at by the whole court. The best way to divert her, they\nthought, would be to urge her to marry; which the princess, who was\nnow become less obstinate on that point than formerly, consented to.\nTrusting that such a pigmy as the Yellow Dwarf would not dare to\ncontend with so gallant a person as the King of the Golden Mines, she\nfixed upon that prince for her husband. He was exceedingly rich and\npowerful, and loved her to distraction. The most superb preparations\nwere made for the nuptials, and the happy day was fixed when, as they\nwere proceeding to the ceremony, they saw moving towards them a box,\nupon which sat an old woman remarkable for her ugliness.\n\n\"Hold, queen and princess!\" cried she, knitting her brows; \"remember\nthe promises you have both made to my friend the Yellow Dwarf. I am\nthe Desert Fairy; and unless All-Fair consent to marry him, I solemnly\nswear to burn my crutch.\"\n\nThe queen and princess were struck almost motionless by this\nunexpected address of the fairy; but the Prince of the Golden Mines\nwas exceeding angry, and holding his sword to her throat, he said,\n\"Fly, wretch! or thy malice shall cost thee thy life.\"\n\nNo sooner had he uttered these words, than the top of the box flying\noff, out came the Yellow Dwarf, mounted upon a large Spanish cat.\nPlacing himself between the king and the fairy, he exclaimed, \"Rash\nyouth! thy rage shall be levelled at me, not at the Desert Fairy. I am\nthy rival, and claim thy princess, who is fast bound to me by her own\npromise, her mother's, and the single red hair that you see round her\nfinger.\"\n\nThis so enraged the king, that he cried out, \"Contemptible creature!\nwert thou worthy of notice, I would sacrifice thee for thy\npresumption.\"\n\nThe Yellow Dwarf, clapping spurs to his cat, and drawing a cutlass,\nnow defied the king to combat; and down they went into the courtyard.\nThe sun was immediately turned as red as blood, the air became dark,\nit thundered heavily, and the flashes of lightning discovered two\ngiants vomiting fire on each side of the Yellow Dwarf. The king\nbehaved with such undaunted courage, as to give the dwarf great\ntrouble; but he was dismayed when he saw the Desert Fairy, mounted on\na winged griffin, and with her head covered with snakes, strike the\nprincess so hard with a lance, that she fell into the queen's arms,\ncovered with blood. He immediately left the combat, to go to the\nrelief of his beloved, but the dwarf was too quick for him; and flying\non his Spanish cat to the balcony where she was, he took her from her\nmother's arms, leaped with her upon the top of the palace, and\nimmediately disappeared.\n\nAs the king stood confused and astonished at this strange adventure,\nhe suddenly found a mist before his eyes, and felt himself lifted up\nin the air by some extraordinary power; for the Desert Fairy had\nfallen in love with him. To secure him for herself, therefore, she\ncarried him to a frightful cavern, hoping he would there forget\nAll-Fair. But finding this scheme ineffectual, she resolved to carry\nhim to a place altogether as pleasant as the other was terrible; and\naccordingly placed him in a chariot drawn by swans. In passing through\nthe air, he was unspeakably surprised to see his beloved princess in a\ncastle of polished steel, leaning her head on one hand, and wiping\naway her tears with the other. She happened to look up, and had the\nmortification to see the king sitting by the fairy who then, by her\nart, made herself appear extremely beautiful. Had not the king been\nsensible of the fairy's power, he would certainly have tried to free\nhimself from her by some means or other; but he knew it would be in\nvain, and therefore made believe to have a liking for her. At last\nthey came to a stately palace, fenced on one side by walls of\nemeralds, and on the other by a boisterous sea. The king, by\npretending an attachment to the fairy, obtained the liberty to walk by\nhimself on the shore. There, one day, he heard a voice, and presently\nafter was surprised by the appearance of a mermaid, who, swimming up\nto him with a pleasing smile, spoke to this effect:--\"O King of the\nGolden Mines, I well know all that has befallen you and the Princess\nAll-Fair. Do not suspect this to be a contrivance of the fairy to try\nyou, for I am an inveterate enemy both to her and the Yellow Dwarf;\ntherefore, if you will place confidence in me, I will lend you my\nassistance to procure the release, not only of yourself, but of\nAll-Fair also.\"\n\nThe overjoyed king promised to do whatever the mermaid should direct,\nand seating himself by her desire upon her fish's tail, they sailed\naway together over the rolling sea.\n\nWhen they had sailed some time, \"Now,\" said the mermaid to the king,\n\"we are approaching the place where your princess is kept prisoner by\nthe Yellow Dwarf. You will have many enemies to fight before you can\ncome to her, take, therefore, this sword, with which you may overcome\neverything, provided you never let it go out of your hand.\"\n\nThe king returned her all the thanks that the most grateful heart\ncould suggest; and the mermaid landed and took leave of him, promising\nhim farther assistance when necessary. The king boldly advanced, and,\nmeeting with two terrible sphinxes, laid them dead at his feet with\nthe sword. Next he attacked six dragons that opposed him, and\ndespatched them also. Then he met four-and-twenty nymphs, crowned with\ngarlands of flowers, at the sight of whom he stopped, being unwilling\nto destroy so much beauty; when he heard a voice say, \"Strike! strike!\nor you lose your princess for ever!\" So he threw himself into the\nmidst of the nymphs, smiting right and left, and soon dispersed them.\n\nPresently he came to the castle, where was imprisoned the princess\nAll-Fair. \"O my princess,\" exclaimed he, \"behold your faithful lover!\"\n\n\"Faithful lover!\" she replied, drawing herself back: \"Did I not see\nyou passing through the air with a beautiful nymph? were you faithful\nthen?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the king, \"I was. That was the detested Desert Fairy,\nwho was carrying me to a place where I must have languished out all my\ndays, had it not been for a kind mermaid, by whose assistance it is\nthat I am now come to release you.\" Having uttered these words, he\nthrew himself at her feet; but, catching hold of her gown he\nunfortunately let go the magic sword, which the Yellow Dwarf no sooner\ndiscovered, than, leaping from behind a shrub, where he had been\nconcealed, he ran and seized it. By two cabalistical words he then\nconjured up a couple of giants, who laid the king in irons.\n\n\"Now,\" said the Dwarf, \"my rival's fate is in my own hands; however,\nif he will consent to my marriage with the princess All-Fair, he shall\nhave his life and liberty.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the king, \"I scorn thy favour on such terms.\"\n\nThe dwarf was so exasperated by this reply, that he instantly stabbed\nthe king to the heart. The disconsolate princess stood a moment\npetrified, and then exclaimed, \"Thou hideous creature! since\nentreaties could not avail thee, perhaps thou now reliest upon force;\nbut thou shalt be disappointed. I will die for the love I have for the\nKing of the Golden Mines!\" and so saying she sank down upon his body,\nand expired without a sigh.\n\nThus ended the fate of these two faithful lovers, whom the mermaid\nvery much regretted; but as all her power lay in the sword, she could\nonly change them into two palm-trees, which, preserving a constant and\nmutual affection, still fondly unite their branches together.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIX SWANS.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a king, hunting in a great forest, chased a wild\nboar so eagerly, that none of his people could follow him. When\nevening came, he stopped to look about him, and saw that he had lost\nhimself. He sought everywhere for a way out of the wood, but could\nfind none. Then he perceived coming towards him an old woman, whose\nhead kept constantly shaking. She was a witch.\n\n\"My good woman,\" said he to her, \"cannot you show me the way through\nthe wood?\"\n\n\"O yes, your majesty,\" answered she, \"that I can, but only on one\ncondition, and if you do not agree to it, you will never get out, and\nmust die here of hunger.\"\n\n\"What is the condition?\" asked the king.\n\n\"I have an only daughter,\" said the old woman, \"she is as beautiful as\nany one you could find in the wide world, and well deserves to be your\nwife; if you will make her your queen, I will show you the way out of\nthe wood.\"\n\nThe king, in the fear of his heart, consented, and the old woman led\nhim to her house, where her daughter sat by the fire. She received the\nking as if she had expected him, and he saw that she was very\nbeautiful; but still she did not please him, and he could not look at\nher without a secret shudder. After he had lifted up the maiden\nbeside him on his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and the\nking arrived again at his royal castle, where the wedding was\ncelebrated.\n\nHe had been married once before, and had by his first wife seven\nchildren, six boys and a girl, whom he loved more than anything in the\nworld. But, because he was afraid that the stepmother might not treat\nthem well, or might even do them some harm, he took them to a lonely\ncastle which stood in the middle of a wood. It was so hidden, and the\nroad was so difficult to find, that he himself would not have found\nit, if a wise woman had not given him a wonderful skein of thread;\nwhich, when he threw it down before him, unrolled of itself and showed\nhim the way. The king went out so often to his dear children, that the\nqueen noticed his absence, and was full of curiosity to know what\nbusiness took him thus alone to the wood. So she gave his servants a\nsum of money, and they told her the secret, and also told her of the\nskein, which was the only thing that could show the way. After that\nshe never rested till she had found out where the king kept the skein.\nThen she made some little white silk shirts, and as she had learned\nwitchcraft from her mother, she sewed a spell into every one of them.\nAnd one day when the king was gone out to hunt, she took the little\nshirts and went into the wood, and the skein showed her the way.\n\nThe six brothers, who saw some one in the distance, thought their\ndear father was coming, and ran to meet him, full of joy. As they\napproached, the queen threw one of the shirts over each of them, and\nwhen the shirts touched their bodies, they were changed into swans,\nand flew away over the wood. The witch's daughter went home quite\nhappy, and thought she had got rid of all her stepchildren; but the\none little girl had not run out with her brothers, and the queen knew\nnothing about her.\n\nNext day, the king came joyfully to visit his children, but he found\nnobody except the little sister.\n\n\"Where are your brothers?\" asked he.\n\n\"Oh, dear father,\" she answered, \"they are gone, and have left me\nalone,\" and then she told him all that she had seen out of her window;\nhow her brothers were turned into swans, and had flown away over the\nwood; she also showed him the feathers which they had dropped into the\ncourtyard, and which she had picked up.\n\nThe king was grieved, but he never thought that the queen had done\nthis wicked deed; however, because he dreaded lest the little girl\nwould be stolen from him likewise, he wished to take her away with\nhim. But she was afraid of the stepmother, and begged the king to let\nher stay one night more in the castle in the wood.\n\nThe poor little girl thought, \"I cannot rest here any longer, I will\ngo and look for my brothers.\"\n\nAnd when the night came, she ran away, and went straight into the\nwood. She went on all through the night, and the next day too, till\nshe was so tired that she could go no further. Then she saw a little\nhouse, and went in, and found a room with six little beds; she did not\ndare to lie down in any, but crept under one of them, laid herself on\nthe hard floor, and meant to pass the night there. But when the sun\nwas just going to set, she heard a rustling, and saw six swans come\nflying in at the window. They sat down on the floor, and blew at one\nanother, and blew all their feathers off, and took off their\nswan's-skins like shirts. Then the little girl saw them and recognised\nher brothers, and was very glad, and crept out from under the bed.\n\nThe brothers were not less rejoiced when they saw their little sister,\nbut their joy did not last long.\n\n\"You cannot stop here,\" said they to her, \"this is a house belonging\nto robbers; if they come home, and find you, they will kill you.\"\n\n\"Cannot you protect me?\" asked the little sister.\n\n\"No,\" answered they, \"we can only take off our swan's-skins for a\nquarter of an hour every evening, and have our natural shape for that\ntime, but afterwards we are turned into swans again.\"\n\nThe little sister cried and said, \"Cannot you be released?\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" answered they, \"the conditions are too hard. You must not\nspeak or laugh for six years, and must make for us six shirts out of\nstitchweed during that time. If while you are making them a single\nword comes from your mouth, all your work will be of no use.\" When her\nbrothers had said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they\nturned into swans again, and flew out of the window.\n\nBut the little girl made a firm resolution to release her brothers,\neven if it cost her her life. She left the house, and went into the\nmiddle of the wood, and climbed up in a tree and spent the night\nthere. Next morning she got down, collected a quantity of stitchweed,\nand began to sew. She could not speak to any one, and she did not want\nto laugh; so she sat, and only looked at her work.\n\nWhen she had been there a long time, it happened that the king of the\ncountry was hunting in the wood, and his hunters came to the tree on\nwhich the little girl sat. They called to her, and said, \"Who are\nyou?\"\n\nBut she gave them no answer.\n\n\"Come down to us,\" said they, \"we will not do you any harm.\"\n\nBut she only shook her head. As they kept teasing her with their\nquestions, she threw them down her gold necklace, and thought they\nwould be satisfied with that. But they did not leave off, so she threw\nher sash down to them, and as that was no good, she threw down her\ngarters, and at last everything that she had on, and could spare; so\nthat she had nothing left but her shift. But the hunters would not be\nsent away, and climbed up the tree and brought down the little girl\nand took her to the king.\n\nThe king asked, \"Who are you? what were you doing up in the tree?\"\n\nBut she did not answer. He asked it in all the languages that he knew,\nbut she remained as dumb as a fish. But, because she was so beautiful,\nthe king's heart was moved, and he fell deeply in love with her. He\nwrapped his cloak round her, took her before him on his horse, and\nbrought her to his castle. Then he had her dressed in rich clothes,\nand she shone in her beauty like bright sunshine; but they could not\nget a word out of her. He set her by him at the table, and her modest\nlook and proper behaviour pleased him so much, that he said, \"I will\nmarry her, and no one else in the world,\" and after a few days he was\nmarried to her.\n\nBut the king had a wicked mother, who was not pleased with this\nmarriage, and spoke ill of the young queen. \"Who knows where the girl\ncomes from,\" said she, \"she cannot speak; she is not good enough for a\nking.\"\n\nA year after, when the queen brought her first child into the world,\nthe old mother took it away, and smeared her mouth with blood while\nshe was asleep. Then she went to the king, and accused her of eating\nher child. The king would not believe it, and would not let anyone do\nher any harm. And she always sat and sewed the shirts, and took no\nnotice of anything else. Next time, when she had another beautiful\nbaby, the wicked stepmother did the same as before; but the king could\nnot resolve to believe what she said.\n\nHe said, \"My wife is too pious and good to do such a thing; if she\nwere not dumb, and if she could defend herself, her innocence would be\nmade clear.\"\n\nBut when for the third time the old woman took away the new-born\nchild, and accused the queen, who could not say a word in her own\ndefence, the king could not help himself; he was forced to give her up\nto the court of justice, and she was condemned to suffer death by\nfire.\n\nWhen the day came upon which the sentence was to be executed, it was\nexactly the last day of the six years, in which she might not speak or\nlaugh; and she had freed her dear brothers from the power of the\nspell. The six little shirts were finished, except that on the last\none a sleeve was wanting. When she came to the place of execution, she\nlaid the shirts on her arm, and when she stood at the stake, and the\nfire was just going to be lit, she looked round, and there came six\nswans flying through the air. Then her heart leaped with joy, for she\nsaw that her deliverance was near.\n\nThe swans flew to her, and crouched down, so that she could throw the\nshirts over them; as soon as the shirts were touched by them, their\nswan's-skins fell off, and her brothers stood before her. They were\nall grown up, strong and handsome; only the youngest had no left arm,\nbut instead of it a swan's wing.\n\nThey hugged and kissed their sister many times, and then the queen\nwent to the king, and began to speak, and said, \"Dearest husband, now\nI may speak, and declare to you that I am innocent and falsely\naccused;\" and she told him about the deceit of the old mother, who had\ntaken away her three children, and hidden them.\n\nHowever they were soon fetched safely back, to the great joy of the\nking; and the wicked mother-in-law was tied to the stake, and burnt to\nashes. But the king and queen, with their six brothers, lived many\nyears in peace and happiness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCE WITH THE NOSE.\n\n\nThere was once a king who was passionately in love with a beautiful\nprincess, but she could not be married because a magician had\nenchanted her. The king went to a good fairy to inquire what he should\ndo. Said the fairy, after receiving him graciously; \"Sir, I will tell\nyou a secret. The princess has a great cat whom she loves so well that\nshe cares for nothing and nobody else; but she will be obliged to\nmarry any person who is adroit enough to walk upon the cat's tail.\"\n\n\"That will not be very difficult,\" thought the king to himself, and\ndeparted, resolving to trample the cat's tail to pieces rather than\nnot succeed in walking upon it. He went immediately to the palace of\nhis fair mistress and the cat; the animal came in front of him,\narching its back in anger as it was wont to do. The king lifted up his\nfoot, thinking nothing would be so easy as to tread on the tail, but\nhe found himself mistaken. Minon--that was the creature's\nname--twisted itself round so sharply that the king only hurt his own\nfoot by stamping on the floor. For eight days did he pursue the cat\neverywhere: up and down the palace he was after it from morning till\nnight, but with no better success; the tail seemed made of\nquicksilver, so very lively was it. At last the king had the good\nfortune to catch Minon sleeping, when tramp, tramp! he trod on the\ntail with all his force.\n\nMinon woke up, mewed horribly, and immediately changed from a cat into\na large, fierce-looking man, who regarded the king with flashing eyes.\n\n\"You must marry the princess,\" cried he, \"because you have broken the\nenchantment in which I held her; but I will be revenged on you. You\nshall have a son with a nose as long as--that;\" he made in the air a\ncurve of half a foot; \"yet he shall believe it is just like all other\nnoses, and shall be always unfortunate till he has found out it is\nnot. And if you ever tell anybody of this threat of mine, you shall\ndie on the spot.\" So saying, the magician disappeared.\n\nThe king, who was at first much terrified, soon began to laugh at this\nadventure. \"My son might have a worse misfortune than too long a\nnose,\" thought he. \"At least it will hinder him neither in seeing nor\nhearing. I will go and find the princess, and marry her at once.\"\n\nHe did so, but he only lived a few months after, and died before his\nlittle son was born, so that nobody knew anything about the secret of\nthe nose.\n\nThe little prince was so much wished for, that when he came into the\nworld they agreed to call him Prince Wish. He had beautiful blue eyes\nand a sweet little mouth, but his nose was so big that it covered half\nhis face. The queen, his mother, was inconsolable; but her ladies\ntried to satisfy her by telling her that the nose was not nearly so\nlarge as it seemed, that it would grow smaller as the prince grew\nbigger, and that if it did not a large nose was indispensable to a\nhero. All great soldiers, they said, had great noses, as everybody\nknew. The queen was so very fond of her son that she listened eagerly\nto all this comfort. Shortly she grew so used to the prince's nose\nthat it did not seem to her any larger than ordinary noses of the\ncourt; where, in process of time, everybody with a long nose was very\nmuch admired, and the unfortunate people who had only snubs were taken\nvery little notice of.\n\nGreat care was observed in the education of the prince; and as soon as\nhe could speak they told him all sorts of amusing tales, in which all\nthe bad people had short noses, and all the good people had long ones.\nNo person was suffered to come near him who had not a nose of more\nthan ordinary length; nay, to such an extent did the courtiers carry\ntheir fancy, that the noses of all the little babies were ordered to\nbe pulled out as far as possible several times a day, in order to make\nthem grow. But grow as they would, they never could grow as long as\nthat of Prince Wish. When he was old enough his tutor taught him\nhistory; and whenever any great king or lovely princess was referred\nto, the tutor always took care to mention that he or she had a long\nnose. All the royal apartments were filled with pictures and portraits\nhaving this peculiarity, so that at last Prince Wish began to regard\nthe length of his nose as his greatest perfection, and would not have\nhad it an inch less even to save his crown.\n\nWhen he was twenty years old his mother and his people wished him to\nmarry. They procured for him the likenesses of many princesses, but\nthe one he preferred was Princess Darling, daughter of a powerful\nmonarch and heiress to several kingdoms. Alas! with all her beauty,\nthis princess had one great misfortune, a little turned-up nose,\nwhich, every one else said, made her only the more bewitching. But\nhere, in the kingdom of Prince Wish, the courtiers were thrown by it\ninto the utmost perplexity. They were in the habit of laughing at all\nsmall noses; but how dared they make fun of the nose of Princess\nDarling? Two unfortunate gentlemen, whom Prince Wish had overheard\ndoing so, were ignominiously banished from the court and capital.\n\nAfter this, the courtiers became alarmed, and tried to correct their\nhabit of speech; but they would have found themselves in constant\ndifficulties, had not one clever person struck out a bright idea. He\nsaid that though it was indispensably necessary for a man to have a\ngreat nose, women were different; and that a learned man had\ndiscovered in a very old manuscript that the celebrated Cleopatra,\nQueen of Egypt, the beauty of the ancient world, had a turned-up nose.\nAt this information Prince Wish was so delighted that he made the\ncourtier a very handsome present, and immediately sent off ambassadors\nto demand Princess Darling in marriage.\n\nShe accepted his offer at once, and returned with the ambassadors. He\nmade all haste to meet and welcome her; but when she was only three\nleagues distant from his capital, before he had time even to kiss her\nhand, the magician who had once assumed the shape of his mother's cat,\nMinon, appeared in the air and carried her off before the lover's very\neyes.\n\nPrince Wish, almost beside himself with grief, declared that nothing\nshould induce him to return to his throne and kingdom till he had\nfound Darling. He would suffer none of his courtiers or attendants to\nfollow him; but, bidding them all adieu, mounted a good horse, laid\nthe reins on the animal's neck, and let him take him wherever he\nwould.\n\nThe horse entered a wide-extended plain, and trotted on steadily the\nwhole day without finding a single house. Master and beast began\nalmost to faint with hunger; and Prince Wish might have wished himself\nsafe at home again, had he not discovered, just at dusk, a cavern,\nwhere there sat, beside a bright lantern, a little woman who might\nhave been more than a hundred years old.\n\nShe put on her spectacles the better to look at the stranger, and he\nnoticed that her nose was so small that the spectacles would hardly\nstay on; then the prince and the fairy,--for it was a fairy--burst\ninto a mutual fit of laughter.\n\n\"What a funny nose?\" cried the one.\n\n\"Not so funny as yours, madam,\" returned the other. \"But pray let us\nleave our noses alone, and be good enough to give me something to\neat, for I am dying with hunger, and so is my poor horse.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" answered the fairy. \"Although your nose is\nridiculously long, you are no less the son of one of my best friends.\nI loved your father like a brother; _he_ had a very handsome nose.\"\n\n\"What is wanting to my nose?\" asked Wish, rather savagely.\n\n\"Oh! nothing at all. On the contrary there is a great deal too much of\nit; but never mind, one may be a very honest man, and yet have too big\na nose. As I said, I was a great friend of your father's; he came\noften to see me. I was very pretty then, and oftentimes he used to say\nto me, 'My sister--'\"\n\n\"I will hear the rest, madam, with pleasure, when I have supped; but\nwill you condescend to remember that I have tasted nothing all day?\"\n\n\"Poor boy,\" said the fairy, \"I will give you some supper directly; and\nwhile you eat it I will tell you my history in six words, for I hate\nmuch talking. A long tongue is as insupportable as a long nose; and I\nremember when I was young how much I used to be admired because I was\nnot a talker; indeed, some one said to the queen, my mother,--for poor\nas you see me now I am the daughter of a great king, who always--\"\n\n\"Ate when he was hungry, I hope,\" interrupted the Prince, whose\npatience was fast departing.\n\n\"You are right,\" said the imperturbable old fairy; \"and I will bring\nyou your supper directly, only I wish first just to say that the king\nmy father--\"\n\n\"Hang the king your father!\" Prince Wish was about to exclaim, but he\nstopped himself, and only observed that however the pleasure of her\nconversation might make him forget his hunger, it could not have the\nsame effect upon his horse, who was really starving.\n\nThe fairy, pleased at his civility, called her servants and bade them\nsupply him at once with all he needed. \"And,\" added she, \"I must say\nyou are very polite and very good-tempered, in spite of your nose.\"\n\n\"What has the old woman to do with my nose?\" thought the prince. \"If I\nwere not so very hungry I would soon show her what she is--a regular\nold gossip and chatter-box. She to fancy she talks little, indeed! One\nmust be very foolish not to know one's own defects. This comes of\nbeing born a princess. Flatterers have spoiled her, and persuaded her\nthat she talks little. Little, indeed! I never knew anybody chatter so\nmuch.\"\n\nWhile the prince thus meditated, the servants were laying the table,\nthe fairy asking them a hundred unnecessary questions, simply for the\npleasure of hearing herself talk. \"Well,\" thought Wish, \"I am\ndelighted that I came hither, if only to learn how wise I have been in\nnever listening to flatterers, who hide from us our faults, or make us\nbelieve they are perfections. But they could never deceive me. I know\nall my own weak points, I trust.\" As truly he believed he did.\n\nSo he went on eating contentedly, nor stopped till the old fairy began\nto address him.\n\n\"Prince,\" said she, \"will you be kind enough to turn a little? Your\nnose casts such a shadow that I cannot see what is in my plate. And,\nas I was saying, your father admired me and always made me welcome at\ncourt. What is the court etiquette there now? Do the ladies still go\nto assemblies, promenades, balls?--I beg your pardon for laughing, but\nhow _very_ long your nose is.\"\n\n\"I wish you would cease to speak of my nose,\" said the prince,\nbecoming annoyed. \"It is what it is, and I do not desire it any\nshorter.\"\n\n\"Oh! I see that I have vexed you,\" returned the fairy. \"Nevertheless,\nI am one of your best friends, and so I shall take the liberty of\nalways--\" She would doubtless have gone on talking till midnight; but\nthe prince, unable to bear it any longer, here interrupted her,\nthanked her for her hospitality, bade her a hasty adieu, and rode\naway.\n\nHe travelled for a long time, half over the world, but he heard no\nnews of Princess Darling. However, in each place he went to, he heard\none remarkable fact--the great length of his own nose. The little boys\nin the streets jeered at him, the peasants stared at him, and the more\npolite ladies and gentlemen whom he met in society used to try in vain\nto keep from laughing, and to get out of his way as soon as they\ncould. So the poor prince became gradually quite forlorn and solitary;\nhe thought all the world was mad, but still he never thought of there\nbeing anything queer about his own nose.\n\nAt last the old fairy, who, though she was a chatter-box, was very\ngood-natured, saw that he was almost breaking his heart. She felt\nsorry for him, and wished to help him in spite of himself, for she\nknew the enchantment, which hid from him the Princess Darling, could\nnever be broken till he had discovered his own defect. So she went in\nsearch of the princess, and being more powerful than the magician,\nsince she was a good fairy, and he was an evil magician, she got her\naway from him, and shut her up in a palace of crystal, which she\nplaced on the road which Prince Wish had to pass.\n\nHe was riding along, very melancholy, when he saw the palace; and at\nits entrance was a room, made of the purest glass, in which sat his\nbeloved princess, smiling and beautiful as ever. He leaped from his\nhorse, and ran towards her. She held out her hand for him to kiss, but\nhe could not get at it for the glass. Transported with eagerness and\ndelight, he dashed his sword through the crystal, and succeeded in\nbreaking a small opening, to which she put up her beautiful rosy\nmouth. But it was in vain, Prince Wish could not approach it. He\ntwisted his neck about, and turned his head on all sides, till at\nlength, putting up his hand to his face, he discovered the\nimpediment.\n\n\"It must be confessed,\" exclaimed he, \"that my nose _is_ too long.\"\n\nThat moment the glass walls all split asunder, and the old fairy\nappeared, leading Princess Darling.\n\n\"Avow, prince,\" said she, \"that you are very much obliged to me, for\nnow the enchantment is ended. You may marry the object of your choice.\nBut,\" added she, smiling, \"I fear I might have talked to you for ever\non the subject of your nose, and you would not have believed me in its\nlength, till it became an obstacle to your own inclinations. Now\nbehold it!\" and she held up a crystal mirror. \"Are you satisfied to be\nno different from other people?\"\n\n\"Perfectly,\" said Prince Wish, who found his nose had shrunk to an\nordinary length. And, taking the Princess Darling by the hand, he\nkissed her, courteously, affectionately, and satisfactorily. Then they\ndeparted to their own country, and lived very happy all their days.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HIND OF THE FOREST.\n\n\nA beautiful queen, whose subjects adored her, and whose husband\nthought her the best woman in the world, had but one sorrow, which was\nequally a sorrow both to the king and the country--she brought him no\nheir to the throne. She, at last, grew so melancholy, that she was\nordered for her health to drink the medicinal waters that were found\nin a celebrated wood; and one day, sitting beside one of these\nfountains, which fell into a marble and porphyry basin, she sent all\nher ladies away, that she might the better weep and lament unobserved.\n\n\"How unhappy am I,\" said she; \"five years I have been married, and am\nstill childless, while the poorest women in the land have children by\nthe dozen. Am I to die without ever giving the king an heir?\"\n\nWhile she spoke, she noticed that the water of the fountain was\nslightly disturbed, and there issued thence a large cray-fish, who\nthus addressed her, \"Great queen, you shall have what you desire; but\nfirst you must go to the fairy-palace which is near here, though so\nsurrounded by mists and clouds as to be invisible to mortal eyes,\nunless you will be conducted there by a poor cray-fish.\"\n\nThough very much surprised, the queen answered courteously that she\nhad no objection, except that the animal's method of walking would not\nwell suit her own.\n\nThe shell-fish smiled--if a shell-fish can smile--and immediately took\nthe shape of a pretty little old woman. \"Madam,\" said she, \"we now\nneed not walk crab-fashion. Consider me as your friend, for, indeed, I\nam desirous of being so.\"\n\nSo saying, she jumped out of the fountain, her clothes not being the\nleast wet, though they were made of white and crimson velvet, nor her\ngrey hair damp: it was tied with green ribbons, and appeared all in\norder and smooth as silk. She saluted the queen, and then conducted\nher by a road which, strange to say, well as she knew every portion of\nthe wood, her majesty had never before seen, to a palace of which the\nwalls, roofs, and balconies were built entirely of diamonds.\n\n\"Is all this a dream?\" cried the delighted queen.\n\nBut no, it was a reality, for the gates straightway opened, and six\nbeautiful fairies appeared, who, making her a profound reverence,\npresented her with six flowers composed of jewels: a rose, a tulip, an\nanemone, a jasmine, a carnation, and a heartsease.\n\n\"Madam,\" said they, \"we could not give you a greater mark of our\nfavour than in permitting you to come here. We are delighted to tell\nyou that by and by you will have a little daughter, whom you must\nname Desiree--the Desired. As soon as she is born, call us, and we\nwill endow her with all sorts of good qualities. You have only to take\nthis bouquet, and name each separate flower, thinking of us, when\nimmediately we shall be present in your chamber.\"\n\nThe queen, transported with joy, embraced all the fairies, spent the\nday with them, and returned, laden with presents, to the fountain\nside; where the little old woman jumped into the water, became a\ncray-fish again, and disappeared.\n\nIn due time the Princess Desiree was born, and the queen did as she\nwas told in naming the flowers. Soon, all the six fairies appeared, in\ndifferent chariots; of ebony, drawn by white pigeons--of ivory, drawn\nby black crows, and so on, in great variety. They entered the royal\nchamber with an air at once cheerful and majestic, embraced the queen\nand the little princess, and spread out all their presents. These\nwere, linen, so fine that none but fairy hands could have spun it;\nlace and embroidery without end; and a cradle, the wonder of the\nworld. It was made of wood more precious than gold, and at each corner\nstood four animated images, little cupids, who, as soon as the baby\ncried, began to rock it of their own accord. Then the six fairies\nkissed and dandled the princess, bestowing on her for her portion\nbeauty, good temper, good health, talents, long life, and the faculty\nof doing thoroughly well everything she tried to do. The queen,\novercome with gratitude, was thanking them with all her heart for\ntheir kindness to her little daughter, when she saw enter her chamber\na cray-fish, so large that it could hardly pass through the door.\n\n\"Ungrateful queen,\" said the crab, \"have you forgotten the fairy of\nthe fountain? You sent for these my sisters, and not for me, who am\nthe one to whom you owed most of all.\"\n\nThe queen made a hundred apologies, and the six fairies tried vainly\nto pacify the other one; but she was determined, as she said, to\npunish ingratitude. \"However,\" added she, \"I will give no worse gift\nto the princess than to warn you, that if you let her see daylight\nbefore she is fifteen years old, you will repent it.\" So saying, she\nretired backwards, crab-fashion, resisting all entreaties to resume\nher proper form and join in the festivities.\n\nThe afflicted mother took council with the six fairies how she was to\nsave her baby from this impending evil, and after many conflicting\nopinions they advised her to build a tower without doors or windows,\nand with a subterranean entrance, which the princess might inhabit\ntill she had passed the fatal age. Everything is easy to fairies; so\nthree strokes of their wands, making eighteen strokes in all, began\nand finished the edifice. It was built of green and white marble,\nornamented inside with diamonds and emeralds, and hung with\ntapestry--all fairy work--on which was pictured the lives of heroes.\nThough there was only lamp-light allowed, yet the lamps were so\nnumerous, that they made the tower seem as bright as day. Whether the\nprincess was ever permitted any fresh air, or taken out for a walk by\nstarlight or moonlight, the history does not say; but it does say one\nthing, that she grew up very happy, very lovely, and very well\neducated.\n\nThe six fairies came frequently to see her, and were most kind and\naffectionate to her; but the one she loved best among them all was\nTulip. By this fairy's advice, the nearer she approached the age of\nfifteen, the more carefully was Desiree shut up from daylight. But her\nmother, who was very proud of her beauty, caused her portrait to be\npainted, and sent among all the neighbouring courts, in order that\nsome prince might seek her in marriage. There was one prince who was\nso captivated by this likeness, that he shut himself up with it, and\ntalked to it, as if it had been alive, making love to it in the most\npassionate manner, and then falling into a hopeless melancholy.\n\nWhen his father tried to discover the cause of this--\"Sir,\" said\nPrince Warrior (he went by that name, because, young as he was, he had\nalready gained three battles), \"my grief is that you wish me to marry\nthe Black Princess, while I will only marry the Princess Desiree. I\nhave seen her portrait, and without her I shall surely die. Behold\nher!\"\n\nThe king looked at the portrait. \"Well, my son, I cannot wish for a\nmore charming daughter-in-law, we will retract our offers for the\nBlack Princess, and send an ambassador to propose for the Princess\nDesiree.\"\n\nThe prince, kissing his father's hand, overwhelmed him with his\ngratitude and joy. A courtier, Becafico by name, young and gallant,\nwas despatched with eighty equipages, a hundred mounted squires, and\nthe portrait of the Prince Warrior, to ask the Princess Desiree in\nmarriage. The report of his splendours travelled before him, till it\nreached the ears of the king and queen, and of the six fairies, who\nwere all equally delighted.\n\n\"But,\" said the Fairy Tulip, who was the sagest of them, \"beware,\nqueen, of allowing Becafico to see our child,\" as they tenderly called\nDesiree, \"and do not upon any account suffer her to leave her tower\nfor the kingdom of Prince Warrior until her fifteenth birthday is\npast.\"\n\nThe ambassador arrived; his magnificent train took twenty-three days\nin going through the gates of the city. He made his harangue to the\nking and queen, and much state ceremonial passed between them; then he\nbegged for the honour of an audience with the princess, and was very\nmuch astonished to find it denied him--still more so, when the king\ncandidly told him the whole story.\n\nThe queen had strictly enjoined the ladies of honour not to tell her\ndaughter one word of the ambassador's visit, or her intended marriage;\nyet somehow the princess already knew it quite well. But she was wise\nenough to say nothing about it; and when her mother showed her the\nprince's portrait, and asked her if she should like such a gallant\nyoung man for her husband, she replied humbly that she should be\nquite satisfied with any choice her parents made for her. So her hand\nwas promised, but as she still wanted three months of fifteen, the\nprince was requested to wait thus long.\n\nHe took this delay so much to heart, that he could neither eat nor\nsleep; meantime Desiree was little better--she did nothing but look at\nthe prince's portrait, and was exceedingly irritable with Longthorn\nand Gilliflower, her two maids of honour. The other lady--the Black\nPrincess--was in equally sore plight, for she, too, had fallen in love\nwith the prince's portrait, and his rejection of her hand offended her\nmuch.\n\n\"What,\" said she to the ambassador, \"your master does not find me\nhandsome enough, or rich enough?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the ambassador, \"as much as a subject dare blame a\nsovereign, I blame my prince; had I the first throne in the world, I\nshould know to whom to offer it.\"\n\nHe said this, because he feared the bastinado, for Ethiopians are warm\nhaters as well as warm lovers. The Black Princess was softened, and\ndismissed him, on which he gladly took himself out of the country.\n\nBut the Ethiopian lady was too deeply offended with Prince Warrior to\npardon him so readily. She mounted her ivory car, drawn by six\nostriches which ran at the rate of six leagues an hour, and went to\nthe palace of her godmother, the Fairy of the Fountain, who had been\nso offended by being forgotten at the birth of Desiree. Arrived\nthere, she unfolded all her annoyances. The fairy consoled her, and\npromised to aid her in her revenge.\n\nMeantime Becafico had travelled with all diligence to the capital of\nDesiree's father, where with earnest entreaties he begged that the\nprincess might be sent back with him to her betrothed spouse, who\notherwise would certainly die; at which tidings the princess herself\nwas so much moved that she fainted away. Thus her parents discovered\nhow deeply in love she was with Prince Warrior.\n\n\"Do not disquiet yourself, my dear child,\" said the queen; \"if the\nprince suffers, it is you who can console him. My only fear is on\naccount of the menaces of the Fairy of the Fountain.\"\n\nBut Desiree was so eager to start, that she suggested being sent away\nin a closed carriage, where the light of day should never penetrate,\nand which should only be opened at night-time to give her food. She\nwas willing to suffer any inconvenience for the sake of saving the\nlife of Prince Warrior.\n\nThe parents assented. So there was built a magnificent equipage of\ngreen velvet outside, and lined with rose-colour and silver brocade.\nIt was very large, but it shut up as tight as a box, and it had a huge\nlock, the key of which was entrusted to one of the highest noblemen of\nthe court. In this carriage Desiree was placed, after most affecting\nadieus, by her father and mother; and with her were sent her maids of\nhonour Longthorn and Gilliflower, and a lady-in-waiting, who was the\nmother of both. Now, Longthorn cared little for the princess, but she\ncared very much for Prince Warrior, whose portrait she had seen; and\nwhen the bridal train departed, she said to her mother that she should\ncertainly die if this marriage were accomplished; so the mother,\nnotwithstanding the confidence placed in her by queen, that she should\nwatch over the princess, and carefully seclude her from daylight until\nshe had reached the age of fifteen, yielded to her own child's\npersuasions, and determined to betray her trust.\n\nLongthorn, who learned each evening from the officers of the\nhousehold, when they came to bring the princess her supper, how far\nthey were on their journey, at last persuaded her mother, who put off\nthe cruel act as long as she could, that it would never do to wait any\nlonger. They were nearly at the capital, and the young prince might,\nin his impatience, come to meet them, and the opportunity be lost. So\nnext day, at noon, when the sun was at the hottest, the\nlady-in-waiting took out a knife, which she had brought with her for\nthe purpose, cut a large hole in the side of the carriage where they\nwere all shut up together, and the princess, for the first time in her\nlife, beheld daylight. She uttered a deep sigh, and immediately leaped\nout of the carriage in the form of a white hind, which fled away like\nlightning, and hid itself in the thickest recesses of a neighbouring\nwood.\n\nNone of the train perceived her, or if they had, they would not have\nknown it was she; besides, the Fairy of the Fountain immediately sent\nsuch a storm of thunder and lightning that the whole cavalcade took\nshelter in the nearest place they could find. The only persons who\nknew what had happened were Longthorn, her mother, and Gilliflower;\nbut Gilliflower, overwhelmed with grief, had sprung out of the\ncarriage after her beloved mistress; so the two others were left\nalone. Longthorn immediately put on the garments of Desiree, and\nadorned herself with her royal mantle, her crown of diamonds, her\nsceptre of a single ruby, and the globe which she carried in her left\nhand, composed of one enormous pearl. Thus attired, with her mother\nbearing her train, the false Desiree marched into the city--they two\nalone; for, by the fairy's contrivance, the rest of the attendants had\nbeen scattered in all directions. Longthorn doubted not the prince\nwould be already advancing to meet his bride, which was indeed the\ncase; though he was so weak that he had to be conveyed in a litter,\nsurrounded by courtiers and knights, who all wore splendid armour and\ngreen plumes, green being the favourite colour of the princess. Seeing\nthe two ladies so richly dressed, coming forward on foot and\nunattended, they dismounted, and respectfully greeted them.\n\n\"May I inquire,\" said Longthorn, \"who is in that litter?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied a knight, \"it is the Prince Warrior, who comes to\nmeet his betrothed, the Princess Desiree.\"\n\n\"Tell him,\" said Longthorn, \"that I am she. A fairy, jealous of my\nhappiness, has driven away all my attendants, but that I am Desiree is\nproved by these my royal ornaments, and the letters of my father,\nborne by my lady-of-honour here.\"\n\nImmediately the courtiers kissed the hem of her robe, and made all\ndiligence to announce to the prince, and the king his father, who\naccompanied him, that the Princess Desiree had arrived.\n\n\"What!\" cried the king; \"arrived here in full daylight?\" But the\nprince, burning with impatience, asked no questions, except about the\nlady herself--\"Is she not a miracle of beauty--according to her\nportrait?\" There was no reply. \"You are afraid to speak, gentlemen,\nlest you should praise her too much.\"\n\nBut the courtiers were still silent. \"Sir,\" at last said one of the\nboldest of them, \"you had better go and see the princess yourself.\"\n\nThe prince, much surprised, would have thrown himself out of his\nlitter; but he was too feeble, and his father went instead. When the\nking beheld the false princess, he involuntarily drew back; but the\nlady-of-honour advancing boldly, said:\n\n\"Sire, this is the Princess Desiree;--I bear letters from the king and\nqueen her parents, and also a casket of priceless jewels, which they\ncharged me to place in your hands.\"\n\nThe king kept a mournful silence, and regarded his son, who now\napproached, leaning on one of the courtiers. When he looked at the\ngirl, he recoiled with disgust; for she was so gaunt and tall that the\nclothes of Desiree scarcely covered her knees, and her extreme\nthinness, her red, hooked nose, her black and ill-shaped teeth, made\nher as ugly as Desiree was beautiful. Prince Warrior, who for months\nhad thought of nothing but his lovely bride, stood petrified. \"King,\"\nsaid he to his father, \"I am betrayed! this is not the lady whose\nportrait was sent me, and to whom I have plighted my faith; I have\nbeen deceived, and the deception will cost me my life.\"\n\n\"What do I hear?\" replied Longthorn, haughtily. \"Prince, who has\ndeceived you? you will be no victim in marrying me.\"\n\n\"Ah! my beautiful princess,\" exclaimed the lady-of-honour, \"it is we\nwho are victims. What a reception for one of your rank! what\ninconstancy--what falsehood! But the king your father shall make them\nhear reason.\"\n\n\"We will make him hear reason!\" cried the other king, indignantly. \"He\npromised us a beautiful princess, and he has sent us a skeleton, a\nfright. I do not wonder he has kept it shut up for fifteen years, and\nnow he wishes to foist it upon us.\"\n\nAnd without taking any more notice of Longthorn, he and his son\nremounted each into his litter, and departed.\n\nPrince Warrior was so overcome by this unexpected affliction, that for\na long time he did not speak a word. Then he resolved, as soon as his\nhealth allowed, to depart secretly from the capital, and seek some\nsolitary place where he might pass the remainder of his sad life. He\ncommunicated this design to no one but the faithful Becafico, who\ninsisted upon following his fortunes wherever he went. So, one day,\nthe prince left a letter for his father, assuring him, that as soon as\nhis mind was tranquillized he would return to the court, but imploring\nthat in the meantime no search might be made after him; then he and\nBecafico departed together.\n\nMeanwhile, the poor white hind fled into the wood. She wandered about\ntill she came to a fountain, where, as in a mirror, she saw her own\nchanged shape, and wept, convulsed with grief. Then hunger began to\nattack her--she bent her head, and browsed upon the green grass, which\nshe was surprised to find tasted very good. She laid herself down on a\nbank of moss, but passed the night in extreme terror, hearing the wild\nbeasts roaring around her, and often forgetting that she was a hind,\ntrying to save herself by climbing a tree like a human being. Daybreak\nreassured her a little; she admired for the first time the wonderful\nbeauty of dawn; and when the sun rose, it appeared to her such a\nmarvellous sight that she could not take her eyes from it. She was\nstrangely comforted, spite of all her misfortune, by the charm that\nshe found out, every minute more and more, in the new world which now\nfor the first time she beheld in daylight.\n\nThe Fairy Tulip, who loved Desiree, was very sorry for her, although\nsomewhat offended that the queen had not taken her advice, and\ndetained the princess safe in her tower till she was fifteen; however,\nshe would not leave her a prey to the malice of the Fairy of the\nFountain, so contrived invisibly to conduct the faithful Gilliflower\nto the place where the poor forlorn hind reposed. As soon as Desiree\nsaw her, she leaped the stream, and came towards her former companion,\nlavishing on her a thousand caresses.\n\nAt first Gilliflower was very much astonished to be so taken notice of\nby a deer of the forest; but looking at it attentively, she saw two\ngreat tears rolling down from the soft human-like eyes, and some\ninstinct told her that it was her dear princess. She took the forefeet\nof the hind, and kissed them as respectfully as if they had been her\nmistress's hands. She spoke to her, and though the hind could not\nreply, yet it was clear she understood, for the tears flowed faster\nthan ever, and she showed, by as much intelligence as a dumb beast\ncould possibly evince, that she responded to the love of the faithful\ngirl. When Gilliflower promised that she would never quit her, by a\nhundred little signs the poor hind tried to express how happy she was.\n\nThey passed the day together, Desiree leading her companion to a place\nwhere she had seen plenty of wild fruits; so that Gilliflower, who was\ndying of hunger, became strengthened and refreshed. But when night\ncame, the girl's terrors returned.\n\n\"Dear hind,\" said she, \"where shall we sleep? If we stay here the wild\nbeasts will devour us; is there no little hut where we can hide?\"\n\nThe poor hind shook her pretty head, and the tears again began to\nflow, almost as if she were a human being. Her tears melted the heart\nof the Fairy Tulip, who had watched her invisibly all the time, and\nnow made herself known--appearing suddenly in a shady alley of the\nwood. Gilliflower and the white hind threw themselves at her feet--the\nlatter licking her hands, and caressing her as prettily as a deer\ncould--the former imploring her to take pity on the princess, and\nrestore her to her natural shape.\n\n\"I cannot do that,\" said the fairy; \"her enemy has too much power; but\nI can shorten her term of punishment, and soften it a little, by\ngranting that during every night she becomes a woman, though as soon\nas day breaks she must again wander about as a hind of the forest.\"\n\nIt was a great comfort to be a woman every night; and the hind showed\nher joy by innumerable leaps and bounds, which delighted the good\nTulip.\n\n\"Follow this by-path,\" said she, \"and you will find a hut that will\nserve you as a quiet home. Farewell.\"\n\nShe disappeared, and Gilliflower, with the hind trotting after her,\nwent on and on, till she came to a little hut, before which sat an old\nwoman, making a basket of osiers.\n\n\"My good woman,\" said she, \"have you a room to let, for me and my pet\nhere?\"\n\n\"Yes, truly,\" replied the old woman; and took them into a room where\nwere two little beds, hung with white dimity, with fine white sheets,\nand everything as neat and comfortable as possible. As soon as it grew\ndark, the princess recovered her own shape, and kissed and embraced a\nthousand times her dear Gilliflower, who, on her part, was full of\ndelight and thankfulness. Then they had their supper, and went to\nsleep in their two little beds.\n\nWhen morning broke, Gilliflower was awakened by a scratching, and\nthere she saw the hind, just as much a hind as before, waiting to be\nlet out. The faithful attendant opened the door, and the deer sprang\nout quickly, and disappeared in the forest.\n\nNow, by an extraordinary chance, it happened that Prince Warrior,\nwandering about, indifferent to where he went, lost himself in this\nvery forest, where he had come with his companion Becafico. The\nlatter, seeking for fruits to satisfy their hunger, reached the same\ncottage-door where the old woman lived, and being received kindly,\nasked her for some food for his master. She put some bread into a\nbasket, and was going to give it to him, when her charity made her\noffer the wanderers shelter for the night.\n\n\"It is a poor cottage,\" said she; \"but I have still one empty room,\nwhich will at least save you from being eaten up by wolves and lions.\"\n\nSo the prince was persuaded; and the old woman, who appeared ignorant\nof his rank, admitted him and Becafico cautiously, so as not to\ndisturb the lady and the hind, who occupied the next room. Thus the\ntwo lovers were so near, that they might almost have heard one another\nspeak, yet did not know it.\n\nThe prince rarely slept much; his sorrow was still too great; and when\nthe first rays of the sun shone through his window, he arose, and\nwent out into the forest. There he wandered a long time without\nfinding any sure track: at last he came upon a sort of bower, overhung\nwith trees, and carpeted with moss, out of which started a beautiful\nwhite hind, who immediately fled away.\n\nNow the prince had formerly been a great hunter, until his passion for\nthe chase was swallowed up by his love for Desiree; but the old fancy\nreturned when he saw the white hind. He could not help following her,\nand sending after her arrows, not a few, from the bow which he always\ncarried, causing her almost to die of fear; although, by the care of\nthe Fairy Tulip, she was not wounded. All through the day he pursued\nher; until, towards twilight, she escaped from him towards the\ncottage, where Gilliflower was watching in the utmost anxiety. The\nfaithful girl received tenderly into her arms the poor hind,\nbreathless, exhausted; and eagerly awaited the moment when her\nmistress should become a woman again, and tell her what had happened.\nWhen darkness came on, the deer vanished, and it was the Princess\nDesiree who lay on Gilliflower's bosom.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried she, weeping, \"I have more to fear than the Fairy of the\nFountain, and the wild beasts of the forest. I have been pursued all\nday by a young hunter, whom I had scarcely seen, before he obliged me\nto fly; and sent so many arrows after me that I marvel I was not\nkilled, or at least wounded.\"\n\n\"My princess, you must never quit this room again,\" said Gilliflower.\n\n\"I must; for the same enchantment which makes me a hind forces me to\ndo as hinds do. I feel myself every morning irresistibly compelled to\nrun into the wood, to leap and bound, and eat grass, and behave myself\nexactly like a wild creature of the forest. Oh, how weary I am!\"\n\nHer soft eyes closed, and she fell asleep until the dawn of day, when\nagain she was driven out in the shape of a poor four-footed creature,\nto fulfil her sad destiny.\n\nThe prince on his part came home also very much wearied and vexed.\n\"Becafico,\" he said, \"I have spent the day in chasing the most\nbeautiful hind I ever saw. She has slipped from me time after time\nwith the most wondrous adroitness; yet my arrows were so true that I\nmarvel how she escaped. At dawn to-morrow I must be after her once\nmore.\"\n\nSo he did not fail to go, at earliest dawn, to her hiding-place; but\nthe hind took care not to re-visit her favourite haunt. He sought her\neverywhere, and could see nothing; then being very tired and hot, he\ngathered some luscious apples which he saw hanging upon a tree over\nhis head. As soon as he ate them he fell fast asleep.\n\nMeantime the hind, roaming stealthily about, came to the place where\nhe lay--came quite suddenly, or else she would have taken to flight;\nbut now seeing her enemy sound asleep, she paused a minute to look at\nhim; and in his features, wasted with grief, but still so loveable\nand beautiful, she recognised the face which had long been engraven on\nher heart. The poor hind! she crouched down at a little distance, and\nwatched him, her eyes beaming with joy. Then she sighed: at length,\nbecome bolder, she approached nearer, and softly touched him with her\nfore-foot.\n\nAwaking, what was the prince's surprise to see beside him, tame and\nfamiliar, the pretty creature whom he had hunted all yesterday; but\nwhen he put out his hand to seize her, she fled away like lightning.\nHe followed with all the speed he could, and thus, she flying and he\npursuing, they passed the whole day. Towards evening her strength\nfailed; and when the hunter came up to her it was a poor half-dying\ndeer that he found lying on the grass. She thought her death was\ncertain--still, from his hands, it did not seem so terrible as from\nany one else; but instead of killing her he caressed her.\n\n\"Beautiful hind,\" said he, \"do not be afraid. I only wish to take you\nhome with me, and have you with me always.\" He cut branches of trees,\nwove them ingeniously into a sort of couch, which he strewed with\nroses and moss; then took the creature in his arms, laid her gently\ndown upon them, and sat beside her, feeding her from time to time with\nthe softest grass he could find. She ate contentedly from his hand,\nand he almost fancied she understood all the sweet things he said to\nher, and so time passed till it grew dusk.\n\n\"My pretty hind,\" said he, \"I will go in search of a stream where you\ncan drink, and then we will take our way home together.\" But while he\nwas absent she stole away, and had only time to reach the cottage when\nthe transformation happened, and it was not a hind but a weeping\nprincess who threw herself on the bed beside the faithful Gilliflower.\n\n\"I have seen him!\" she cried. \"My Prince Warrior is himself in this\nforest: he was the hunter who has pursued me these two days, and has\ntaken me at last. But he did not slay me: he saved and caressed me.\nAh, he is gentler and sweeter even than the image in my heart.\"\n\nHere she began again to weep; but Gilliflower consoled her, and they\nwent to sleep, wondering much how this adventure would end.\n\nThe prince, returning from the stream, missed his beautiful white\nhind, and came back to Becafico full of grief, mingled with a certain\nanger at the ingratitude of the creature to whom he had been so kind.\nBut at break of day he rose, determined again to pursue her. She,\nhowever, in order to avoid him, took a quite different route. Still,\nthe forest was not so large, but that at last he saw her, leaping and\nbounding among the bushes. Seized by an irresistible impulse, he shot\nan arrow after her; it struck her, she felt a violent pain dart\nthrough one of her slender limbs, and fell helpless on the grass. When\nthe prince came up to her, he was overcome with remorse for his\ncruelty. He took a handful of herbs and bound up her wound, made her a\nbed of branches and moss, laid her head upon his knees, and wept over\nher.\n\n\"My lovely hind,\" said he, \"why did I wound you so cruelly? You will\nhate me, when I wish you to love me.\" So he tended and cherished her\nall day, and, towards nightfall, he knotted a ribbon round her neck,\nwith the intention of gently leading her home. But she struggled with\nhim; and the struggle was so sore that Gilliflower, coming out in\nsearch of her dear mistress, heard the rustling, and saw her hind in\nthe hunter's power. She rushed to rescue her, to the prince's great\nastonishment.\n\n\"Whatever consideration I owe you, madam,\" said he, \"you must know\nthat you are committing a robbery; this hind is mine.\"\n\n\"No, sir, she is mine,\" returned Gilliflower, respectfully. \"She knows\nshe is, and will prove it if you will only give her a little liberty.\nMy pretty pet, come and embrace me.\" The hind crept into her arms.\n\"Now kiss me on my right cheek.\" She obeyed. \"Now touch my heart.\" She\nlaid her foot against Gilliflower's bosom.\n\n\"I allow she is yours,\" said the prince, discontentedly. \"Take her and\ngo your ways.\"\n\nBut he followed them at a distance, and was very much surprised to see\nthem enter the cottage. He asked the old woman who the damsel was, but\nshe said she did not know, except that the lady and the hind lived\nthere together in solitude, and paid her well. But when Becafico, who\nhad eyes as sharp as needles, coming to meet his master, by chance\ncaught sight of Gilliflower, he recognised her at once.\n\n\"Here is some great mystery,\" said he, \"for that is the lady who was\nthe favourite of the Princess Desiree.\"\n\n\"Do not utter that name, which only recalls my grief,\" said the\nprince, sadly; but Becafico, determined to gratify his curiosity, made\nall sorts of inquiries, and discovered that Gilliflower was lodged in\nthe next room.\n\n\"I should like to see her again,\" thought he; \"and since only a thin\npartition divides us, I will bore a hole through.\"\n\nHe did so, and beheld a wonderful sight. There sat the fairest\nprincess in all the world, attired in a robe of silver brocade, her\nhair falling in long curls, and her eyes sparkling through tears.\nGilliflower knelt before her, binding up her beautiful arm, from which\nthe blood was flowing.\n\n\"Do not heed it,\" sighed the princess; \"better let me die, for death\nitself would be sweeter than the life I lead. Alas! how hard it is to\nbe a hind all day; to see my betrothed, to feel his tenderness and\ngoodness, yet be unable to speak to him, or to tell him the fatal\ndestiny which divides me from him.\"\n\nWhen Becafico heard this, words cannot describe his astonishment and\ndelight. He ran towards the prince, who sat moodily at the window.\n\"Sir,\" cried he, \"only look through this hole, and you will see the\noriginal of the portrait which so fascinated you.\"\n\nThe prince looked, and recognised at once his beloved princess. He\nwould have died with joy, had he not believed himself deceived by\nsome enchantment. He knocked at the door, Gilliflower opened it; he\nentered, and threw himself at the feet of Desiree. What followed--of\nexplanations, vows, tears, and embraces--was never very clearly\nrelated, not even by Gilliflower and Becafico, who were present, but\nwho considerately drew aside, and spent the time in conversing with\none another. So passed the night; and anxiously they awaited for the\ndawn, to see whether the beautiful princess would again become a hind\nof the forest. But the day broke, grew clearer, brightened into\nsunrise, and the princess, with the prince sitting beside her,\nremained a beautiful maiden still. Then came a knock at the door, and\nthere entered the little old woman, who had been such a kind hostess\nfor all this while.\n\n\"The period of enchantment is ended, my children,\" said she. \"Go home\nand be happy.\" And then they knew her as no longer the little old\nwoman, but the Fairy Tulip, who had thus faithfully watched her\ncharge.\n\nSo the bride and bridegroom returned to their capital, where the\nmarriage was solemnized with all splendour, and, at Desiree's request,\nLongthorn and her mother, who had been imprisoned by the old king's\norder, were set free, with no further punishment than banishment to\ntheir own country, where they were to remain for life. As for the\nfaithful Gilliflower, she stayed at court, with her beloved mistress,\nand became the wife of the equally faithful Becafico, who had served\nPrince Warrior as devotedly as she the Princess Desiree. The two were\nladen with wealth and honours, and shared the happiness of the other\ntwo lovers, which was as great as any mortal could desire. After their\ndeath the story of the White Hind of the Forest was commanded to be\nwritten down in the archives of the state, and thence it has been told\nin tradition, or sung in poetry, half over the world.\n\n\n\n\nTHE JUNIPER-TREE.\n\n\nOne or two thousand years ago, there was a rich man, who had a\nbeautiful and pious wife; they loved one another dearly, but they had\nno children. They wished and prayed for some night and day, but still\nthey had none. In front of their house was a yard, where stood a\nJuniper-tree, and under it the wife stood once in winter, and peeled\nan apple, and as she peeled the apple she cut her finger, and the\nblood fell on the snow.\n\n\"Oh,\" said she, sighing deeply and looking sorrowfully at the blood,\n\"if I only had a child as red as blood, and as white as snow!\"\n\nWhile she spoke, she became quite happy; it seemed to her as if her\nwish would surely come to pass. Then she went into the house; and a\nmonth passed, and the snow melted; and two months, and the ground was\ngreen; and three months, and the flowers came up out of the earth; and\nfour months, and all the trees in the wood burst forth, and the green\ntwigs all grew thickly together; the little birds sang so that the\nwhole wood rang, and the blossoms fell from the trees. The fifth month\npassed, and she stood under the Juniper-tree, and it smelt so\nbeautiful, and her heart leaped with joy. She fell upon her knees,\nbut could not speak. When the sixth month was gone, the fruit was\nlarge and ripe, and she was very quiet; the seventh month, she took\nthe juniper berries, ate them eagerly, and was sick and sorrowful; and\nthe eighth month went by, and she called to her husband, and cried and\nsaid, \"If I die, bury me under the Juniper-tree.\"\n\nAfter this she was quite comforted and happy, till the next month was\npassed, and then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood.\nWhen she beheld it, she was so glad, that she died.\n\nHer husband buried her under the Juniper-tree, and began to mourn very\nmuch; but after a little time, he became calmer, and when he had wept\na little more, he left off weeping entirely, and soon afterwards he\ntook another wife.\n\nThe second wife brought him a daughter, but the child of the first\nwife was a little son, and was as red as blood, and as white as snow.\nWhen the wife looked at her daughter, she loved her; but when she\nlooked at the little boy, she hated him, and it seemed as if he were\nalways in her way, and she was always thinking how she could get all\nthe property for her daughter. The Evil One possessed her so, that she\nwas quite angry with the little boy, and pushed him about from one\ncorner to another, and cuffed him here and pinched him there, until\nthe poor child was always in fear. When he came home from school, he\ncould not find a quiet place to creep into.\n\nOnce, when the woman went up to her room, her little daughter came up\ntoo, and said \"Mother, give me an apple.\"\n\n\"Yes, my child,\" said the woman, and gave her a beautiful apple out of\nthe chest; and the chest had a great heavy lid, with a great sharp\niron lock.\n\n\"Mother,\" said the little daughter, \"shall not brother have one too?\"\n\nThat vexed the woman, but she said, \"Yes, when he comes from school.\"\n\nAnd when she saw from the window that he was coming, it was just as if\nthe Evil One came into her, and she snatched away the apple from her\ndaughter, and said, \"You shall not have one before your brother.\"\n\nThen she threw the apple into the chest, and shut the lid close down.\nWhen the little boy came in at the door, the Evil One made her say\nkindly, \"My son, will you have an apple?\"\n\nYet she looked so angry all the time, that the little boy said,\n\"Mother, how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple.\"\n\nThen she felt that she must speak to him. \"Come with me,\" said she,\nand opened the lid; \"pick out an apple for yourself.\"\n\nAnd as the little boy stooped over, the Evil One prompted her, and\nsmash! she banged the lid down, so that his head flew off and fell\namong the red apples. Then she was seized with terror, and thought,\n\"Can I get rid of the blame of this?\" So she went up to her room to\nher chest of drawers, and took out of the top drawer a white cloth,\nand placed the head on the neck again, and tied the handkerchief\nround it, so that one could see nothing, and set him before the door\non a chair, and gave him the apple in his hand.\n\nSoon after, little Margery came to her mother, who stood by the\nkitchen fire, and had a pot of hot water before her, which she kept\nstirring round.\n\n\"Mother,\" said little Margery, \"brother sits before the door, and\nlooks quite white, and has an apple in his hand; I asked him to give\nme the apple, but he did not answer me, and I was frightened.\"\n\n\"Go to him again,\" said her mother, \"and if he will not answer you,\ngive him a box on the ear.\"\n\nThen Margery went, and said, \"Brother, give me the apple.\"\n\nBut he was silent, so she gave him a box on the ear, and the head fell\ndown.\n\nShe was frightened, and began to cry and sob, and ran to her mother,\nand said, \"Oh, mother, I have knocked my brother's head off!\" and\ncried and cried, and would not be comforted.\n\n\"Margery,\" said her mother, \"what have you done!--but now be quiet,\nand no one will notice; it cannot be helped now--we will cook him in\nvinegar.\"\n\nThen the mother took the little boy, and chopped him in pieces, put\nhim into the pot, and cooked him in vinegar. But Margery stood by, and\ncried and cried, and all her tears fell into the pot, so that the\ncookery did not want any salt.\n\nWhen the father came home, and sat down to dinner, he said, \"Where is\nmy son?\"\n\nThe mother brought a great big dish of black soup, and Margery cried\nand cried without ceasing. Then the father said again, \"Where is my\nson?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the mother, \"he is gone into the country, to see his uncle,\nwhere he is going to stay awhile.\"\n\n\"What does he want there? And he has not even said good-bye to me!\"\n\n\"Oh, he wished very much to go, and asked if he might remain away six\nweeks; he is well taken care of there, you know.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the father, \"I am sorry; for he ought to have bade me\ngood-bye.\"\n\nAfter that he began to eat, and said, \"Margery, what are you crying\nfor? Brother will be sure to come back. Oh, wife,\" continued he, \"how\ndelicious this food tastes; give me some more.\" And the more he ate,\nthe more he wanted; and he said, \"Give me more, you shall not have any\nof it; I feel as if it were all mine.\" And he ate and ate, throwing\nthe bones under the table, till he had finished it all.\n\nBut Margery went to her drawers, and took out of the bottom drawer her\nbest silk handkerchief, and fetched out all the bones from under the\ntable; she tied them up in the silk handkerchief, and took them out of\ndoors, and shed bitter tears over them. Then she laid them under the\nJuniper-tree in the green grass; and when she had put them there, she\nfelt all at once quite happy, and did not cry any more.\n\nSoon the Juniper began to move, and the twigs kept dividing and then\nclosing, just as if the tree were clapping its hands for joy. After\nthat there went up from it a sort of mist, and right in the centre of\nthe mist burnt a fire, and out of the fire flew a beautiful bird, who,\nsinging deliciously, rose up high in the air. When he was out of\nsight, the Juniper-tree was just as it had been before, only the\nhandkerchief with the bones was gone. But Margery felt quite pleased\nand happy, just as if her brother were still alive. And she went back\nmerrily into the house to dinner.\n\nThe bird flew away, sat himself on a goldsmith's house, and began to\nsing--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\n    My father, he ate me;\n    My sister, little Margery,\n    Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\n    And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nThe goldsmith sat in his workshop, making a gold chain, but he heard\nthe bird, which sat on his roof, and sang, and he thought it very\nbeautiful. He stood up, and as he went over the door-step he lost one\nslipper. But he went right into the middle of the street, with one\nslipper and one sock on; he had on his leather apron; in one hand he\ncarried the gold chain, and in the other the pincers, while the sun\nshone brightly up the street. There he stood, and looked at the bird.\n\n\"Bird,\" said he, \"how beautiful you can sing! Sing me that song\nagain.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the bird, \"I do not sing twice for nothing. Give me that\ngold chain, and I will sing it again.\"\n\n\"There,\" said the goldsmith; \"you shall have the gold chain--now sing\nme that song once more.\"\n\nThen the bird came and took the gold chain in his right claw, and went\nand sat before the goldsmith, and sang--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\n    My father, he ate me;\n    My sister, little Margery,\n    Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\n    And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAfterwards he flew away to a shoemaker's, and set himself on his roof,\nand sang--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\n    My father, he ate me;\n    My sister, little Margery,\n    Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\n    And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nWhen the shoemaker heard it, he ran out of his door in his\nshirt-sleeves, looked towards his roof, and had to hold his hand over\nhis eyes, so that the sun should not dazzle him.\n\n\"Bird,\" said he, \"how beautifully you can sing!\" And he called in at\nhis door, \"Wife, just come out; there is a bird here which can sing so\nbeautifully.\" Then he called his daughter and his workpeople, both\nboys and girls; they all came into the street, looked at the bird, and\nsaw how handsome he was; for he had bright red and green feathers,\nand his neck shone like real gold, and his eyes twinkled in his head\nlike stars.\n\n\"Bird,\" said the shoemaker, \"now sing me that song again.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the bird, \"I do not sing twice for nothing; you must\ngive me something.\"\n\n\"Wife,\" said the man, \"go to the garret: on the highest shelf there\nstands a pair of red shoes--bring them here.\"\n\nThe wife went and fetched the shoes.\n\n\"There,\" said the man, \"now sing me that song again.\"\n\nThen the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw and flew back\non the roof, and sang--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\n    My father, he ate me;\n    My sister, little Margery,\n    Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\n    And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAnd when he had finished, he flew away, with the chain in his right\nclaw and the shoes in his left. He flew far away to a mill, and the\nmill went \"Clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper.\" And\nin the mill there sat twenty millers, who chopped a stone, and\nchopped, \"Hick, hack, hick, hack, hick, hack;\" and the mill went,\n\"Clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper.\"\n\nThe bird flew up, and sat in a lime-tree that grew before the mill,\nand sang--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\"\n\nthen one man stopped;\n\n    \"My father, he ate me;\"\n\nthen two more stopped and listened;\n\n    \"My sister, little Margery,\"\n\nthen four more stopped;\n\n    \"Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\"\n\nnow only eight more were chopping,\n\n    \"Laid them under\"\n\nnow only five,\n\n    \"the Juniper-tree.\"\n\nnow only one.\n\n    \"Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nThen the last man stopped too, and heard the last word.\n\n\"Bird,\" said he, \"how beautifully you sing! Please to sing me that\nsong once more.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the bird, \"I do not sing twice for nothing; give me the\nmillstone, and I will sing it again.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said he, \"if it belonged to me only, you should have it.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried all the others, \"if he sings it again, he shall have it.\"\n\nThen the bird came down, and all the twenty millers took poles, and\nlifted the stone up. The bird stuck his neck through the hole in the\nmillstone, and put it on like a collar, and flew back to the tree, and\nsang--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\n    My father, he ate me;\n    My sister, little Margery,\n    Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\n    And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAnd when he had done singing, he opened his wings, and though he had\nin his right claw the chain, in his left the shoes, and round his neck\nthe millstone, he flew far away to his father's house.\n\nIn the room sat the father, the mother, and little Margery at dinner;\nand the father said, \"Oh, how happy I am! altogether joyful.\"\n\n\"For me,\" said the mother, \"I feel quite frightened, as if a dreadful\nstorm was coming.\"\n\nBut Margery sat, and cried and cried.\n\nThen there came the bird flying, and as he perched himself on the\nroof, \"Oh,\" said the father, \"I feel so happy, and the sun shines out\nof doors so beautifully! It is just as if I were going to see an old\nfriend.\n\n\"No,\" said the wife; \"I am so frightened, my teeth chatter, and it\nfeels as if there was a fire in my veins;\" and she tore open her\ndress. But Margery sat in a corner, and cried, holding her apron\nbefore her eyes, till the apron was quite wet through.\n\nThe bird perched upon the Juniper-tree, and sang--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\"\n\nThen the mother stopped up her ears, and shut her eyes tight, and did\nnot want to see or hear; but there was a roaring in her ears like the\nloudest thunder, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning--\n\n    \"My father, he ate me;\"\n\n\"Oh, wife,\" said the man, \"look at that beautiful bird!--he sings so\nsplendidly. And the sun shines so warm, and there is a smell like\nreal cinnamon!\"\n\n    \"My sister, little Margery,\"\n\nThen Margery laid her head on her knee, and sobbed out loud; but the\nman said, \"I shall go out--I must look at the bird quite close.\"\n\n\"Oh, do not go,\" said the wife; \"it seems to me as if the whole house\nshook, and was in flames.\"\n\nBut the man went out and watched the bird, which still went on\nsinging--\n\n    \"Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\n    And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAfter that, the bird let the gold chain fall, and it fell right on to\nthe man's neck, fitting exactly round it. He went in and said, \"See\nwhat a beautiful bird that is--it has given me such a splendid gold\nchain!\"\n\nBut the wife was frightened, and fell flat down on the floor, and her\ncap dropped off her head.\n\nThen the bird sang again--\n\n    \"My mother, she killed me;\"\n\n\"Oh, that I were a thousand feet under the earth, so that I might not\nhear!\"\n\n    \"My father, he ate me,\"\n\nThen she fell down, as if she was dead.\n\n    \"My sister, little Margery,\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Margery, \"I will go out too, and see if the bird will give\nme anything.\"\n\n    \"Gathered up all my bones,\n    Tied them in a silk handkerchief,\"\n\nAnd the shoes were thrown down.\n\n    \"And laid them under the Juniper-tree:\n    Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nThen Margery was very joyful; she put on the new red shoes, and danced\nand jumped about. \"Oh,\" said she, \"I was so unhappy when I came out,\nand now I am so happy! That is a wonderful bird; he has given me a\npair of red shoes.\"\n\n\"For me,\" cried the wife, and jumped up, and her hair stood on end\nlike flames of fire, \"I feel as if the world were come to an end; I\nwill go out--perhaps I shall feel easier.\"\n\nBut as she went out of the door--smash!--the bird threw the millstone\non her head, and she was crushed to pieces.\n\nThe father and Margery heard it, and rushed out to see what had\nhappened: there was a great flame and smoke rising up from the place,\nand when that was gone, there stood the little brother all alive\nagain--as if he had never died. He took his father and Margery by the\nhand, and they were all three quite happy, and went into the house to\ndinner.\n\n\n\n\nCLEVER ALICE.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a man who had a daughter, who was called\n\"Clever Alice;\" and when she was grown up, her father said, \"We must\nsee about her marrying.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied her mother, \"whenever a young man shall appear who is\nworthy of her.\"\n\nAt last a certain youth, by name Hans, came from a distance to make a\nproposal of marriage but he required one condition, that the Clever\nAlice should be very prudent.\n\n\"Oh,\" said her father, \"no fear of that! she has got a head full of\nbrains;\" and the mother added, \"Ah, she can see the wind blow up the\nstreet, and hear the flies cough!\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied Hans; \"but remember, if she is not very prudent,\nI will not take her.\" Soon afterwards they sat down to dinner, and her\nmother said, \"Alice, go down into the cellar and draw some beer.\"\n\nSo Clever Alice took the jug down from the wall, and went into the\ncellar, jerking the lid up and down on her way, to pass away the time.\nAs soon as she got downstairs, she drew a stool and placed it before\nthe cask, in order that she might not have to stoop, for she thought\nstooping might in some way injure her back, and give it an\nundesirable bend. Then she placed the can before her and turned the\ntap, and while the beer was running, as she did not wish her eyes to\nbe idle, she looked about upon the wall above and below. Presently she\nperceived, after much peeping into this corner and that corner, a\nhatchet, which the bricklayers had left behind, sticking out of the\nceiling right above her head. At the sight of this Clever Alice began\nto cry, saying, \"Oh! if I marry Hans, and we have a child, and he\ngrows up, and we send him into the cellar to draw beer, the hatchet\nwill fall upon his head and kill him;\" and so she sat there weeping\nwith all her might over the impending misfortune.\n\nMeanwhile the good folks upstairs were waiting for the beer, but as\nClever Alice did not come, her mother told the maid to go and see what\nshe was stopping for. The maid went down into the cellar, and found\nAlice sitting before the cask crying heartily, and she asked, \"Alice,\nwhat are you weeping about?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" she replied, \"have I not cause? If I marry Hans, and we have a\nchild, and he grow up, and we send him here to draw beer, that hatchet\nwill fall upon his head and kill him.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the maid, \"what a clever Alice we have!\" And, sitting down,\nshe began to weep, too, for the misfortune that was to happen.\n\nAfter a while, when the servant did not return, the good folks above\nbegan to feel very thirsty; so the husband told the boy to go down\ninto the cellar, and see what had become of Alice and the maid. The\nboy went down, and there sat Clever Alice and the maid both crying,\nso he asked the reason; and Alice told him the same tale, of the\nhatchet that was to fall on her child, if she married Hans, and if\nthey had a child. When she had finished, the boy exclaimed, \"What a\nclever Alice we have!\" and fell weeping and howling with the others.\n\nUpstairs they were still waiting, and the husband said, when the boy\ndid not return, \"Do you go down, wife, into the cellar and see why\nAlice stays so long.\" So she went down, and finding all three sitting\nthere crying, asked the reason, and Alice told her about the hatchet\nwhich must inevitably fall upon the head of her son. Then the mother\nlikewise exclaimed, \"Oh, what a clever Alice we have!\" and, sitting\ndown, began to weep as much as any of the rest.\n\nMeanwhile the husband waited for his wife's return; but at last he\nfelt so very thirsty, that he said, \"I must go myself down into the\ncellar and see what is keeping our Alice.\" As soon as he entered the\ncellar, there he found the four sitting and crying together, and when\nhe heard the reason, he also exclaimed, \"Oh, what a clever Alice we\nhave!\" and sat down to cry with the whole strength of his lungs.\n\nAll this time the bridegroom above sat waiting, but when nobody\nreturned, he thought they must be waiting for him, and so he went down\nto see what was the matter. When he entered, there sat the five crying\nand groaning, each one in a louder key than his neighbour.\n\n\"What misfortune has happened?\" he asked.\n\n\"Ah, dear Hans!\" cried Alice, \"if you and I should marry one another,\nand have a child, and he grow up, and we, perhaps, send him down to\nthis cellar to tap the beer, the hatchet which has been left sticking\nup there may fall on his head, and so kill him: and do you not think\nthis is enough to weep about?\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Hans, \"more prudence than this is not necessary for my\nhousekeeping; because you are such a clever Alice, I will have you for\nmy wife.\" And, taking her hand, he led her home, and celebrated the\nwedding directly.\n\nAfter they had been married a little while, Hans said one morning,\n\"Wife, I will go out to work and earn some money; do you go into the\nfield and gather some corn wherewith to make bread.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered, \"I will do so, dear Hans.\" And when he was gone,\nshe cooked herself a nice mess of pottage to take with her. As she\ncame to the field she said to herself, \"What shall I do? Shall I cut\nfirst, or eat first? Ay, I will eat first!\" Then she ate up the\ncontents of her pot, and when it was finished, she thought to herself,\n\"Now, shall I reap first or sleep first? Well, I think I will have a\nnap!\" and so she laid herself down amongst the corn, and went to\nsleep.\n\nMeanwhile Hans returned home, but Alice did not come, and so he said,\n\"Oh, what a prudent Alice I have! She is so industrious that she does\nnot even come home to eat anything.\" By-and-by, however, evening came\non, and still she did not return; so Hans went out to see how much\nshe had reaped; but, behold, nothing at all, and there lay Alice fast\nasleep among the corn! So home he ran very fast, and brought a net\nwith little bells hanging on it, which he threw over her head while\nshe still slept on. When he had done this, he went back again and shut\nto the house-door, and, seating himself on his stool, began working\nvery industriously.\n\nAt last, when it was nearly dark, the Clever Alice awoke, and as soon\nas she stood up, the net fell all over her hair, and the bells jingled\nat every step she took. This quite frightened her, and she began to\ndoubt whether she were really Clever Alice, and said to herself, \"Am I\nshe, or am I not?\" This was a question she could not answer, and she\nstood still a long while considering about it. At last she thought she\nwould go home and ask whether she were really herself--supposing\nsomebody would be able to tell her. When she came to the house-door it\nwas shut; so she tapped at the window, and asked, \"Hans, is Alice\nwithin?\" \"Yes,\" he replied, \"she is.\" At which answer she became\nreally terrified, and exclaiming, \"Ah, heaven, then I am not Alice!\"\nshe ran up to another house, intending to ask the same question. But\nas soon as the folks within heard the jingling of the bells in her\nnet, they refused to open their doors, and nobody would receive her.\nSo she ran straight away from the village, and no one has ever seen\nher since.\n\nTHE END.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBOOKS BY\n\nMISS MULOCK\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMY MOTHER AND I\nHANNAH\nOLIVE\nTHE OGILVIES\nA BRAVE LADY\nTHE WOMAN'S KINGDOM\nMISTRESS AND MAID\nTHE UNKIND WORD, Etc.\nTHE HEAD OF THE FAMILY\nYOUNG MRS. JARDINE\nJOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN\nAGATHA'S HUSBAND\nA LIFE FOR A LIFE\nTWO MARRIAGES\nCHRISTIAN'S MISTAKE\nA NOBLE LIFE\nA HERO\nTHE FAIRY BOOK\nSTUDIES FROM LIFE\nSERMONS OUT OF CHURCH\nTHE LAUREL BUSH\nA LEGACY\nYOUNG MRS. JARDINE\nHIS LITTLE MOTHER, Etc.\nPLAIN-SPEAKING\nMISS TOMMY\nKING ARTHUR\nABOUT MONEY AND OTHER THINGS.\n\n\nIllustrated. 12mo, each $1.00\n\nThe Fairy Book. New Edition. Post 8vo....\n\nHARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, N. Y.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *","title":"The Fairy Book: The Best Popular Stories Selected and Rendered Anew","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":120882}