{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26386/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26386","id":"gutenberg_26386","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26386","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: French Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales","Picture books for children"],"text":"Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n    [Illustration: HE FLUNG HUGE MASSES OF ROCK AFTER THE VESSEL]\n\n\n                       _Laboulaye's_ FAIRY BOOK\n\n\n                           _Illustrated by_\n\n\n                              Edward G.\n                             McCandlish\n\n                           _Translated by_\n\n                            Mary L. Booth\n\n\n                          _Introduction by_\n\n                         Kate Douglas Wiggin\n\n\n\n\n\n\n         HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK _and_ LONDON\n\n\n\n\n                        LABOULAYE'S FAIRY BOOK\n\n             Copyright, 1866, 1920, by Harper & Brothers\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                      PAGE\n\nINTRODUCTION                           ix\n\nYVON AND FINETTE                        3\n\nTHE CASTLE OF LIFE                     46\n\nDESTINY                                79\n\nTHE TWELVE MONTHS                      86\n\nSWANDA, THE PIPER                      96\n\nTHE GOLD BREAD                        102\n\nTHE STORY OF THE NOSES                109\n\nTHE THREE CITRONS                     115\n\nTHE STORY OF COQUERICO                137\n\nKING BIZARRE AND PRINCE CHARMING      145\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nHE FLUNG HUGE MASSES OF ROCK AFTER THE VESSEL              _Frontispiece_\n\nHE WAS SOON SNORING SO LOUDLY THAT IT SEEMED LIKE THUNDER\nSHAKING THE MOUNTAINS                                      _Facing p._ 16\n\nSHE FOUND HERSELF IN FRONT OF A WRETCHED HUT AT THE DOOR OF\nWHICH STOOD AN OLD WOMAN, OF WHOM SHE BEGGED SHELTER FOR\nTHE NIGHT                                                      \"       26\n\nAT NIGHT THE GRANDMOTHER ALWAYS GAVE HIM GOOD COUNSELS\nFOR HIM TO FOLLOW WHEN SHE WAS GONE                            \"       48\n\nPRETTY DOBRUNKA WAS OBLIGED TO DO ALL THE WORK OF THE\nHOUSE                                                          \"       88\n\nTURNED OUT BY HER MOTHER, DOBRUNKA WENT UNHAPPILY INTO\nTHE FOREST                                                     \"       92\n\nHE BEGAN TO PLAY, AND NEVER HAD HIS MUSIC PRODUCED SUCH AN\nEFFECT                                                         \"      100\n\nAS THE MOTHER GAZED LOVINGLY AT HER BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER,\nMARIENKA LAUGHED IN HER SLEEP                                  \"      106\n\nHE RAN TO THE TREE AND SHOOK IT WITH ALL HIS MIGHT, WHEN,\nBEHOLD! A YOUNG GIRL FELL FROM THE BRANCHES                    \"      112\n\nHE INSTANTLY GAVE HER THE WATER, WHEN, LO! A BEAUTIFUL,\nSLENDER YOUNG GIRL STOOD BEFORE HIM                            \"      126\n\nPAZZA, THOUGH SHE LOVED THE PRINCE, WAS A VERY STERN           \"      154\nSCHOOLMISTRESS\n\nTHE MOST RENOWNED PHYSICIANS OF THE FACULTY MET ONE EVENING\nIN CONSULTATION AT THE PALACE                                  \"      178\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nBy KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN\n\n\nThere was once a green book, deliciously thick, with gilt-edged pages\nand the name of the author in gilt script on the front cover.\n\nLike an antique posy ring, it was a \"box of jewels, shop of rarities\";\nit was a veritable Pandora's box, and if you laid warm, childish hands\nupon it and held it pressed close to your ear, you could hear, as\nPandora did, soft rustlings, murmurings, flutterings, and whisperings\nfrom the fairy folk within. For this was a fairy book--Edouard\nLaboulaye's \"Tales,\" and its heroes and heroines became first the\ndaily companions, and then the lifetime possession, of the two little\ngirls to whom it belonged.\n\nFrom the New England village where it was originally given to them, it\ntraveled to the far West and its tales were told to countless\nimmigrant children of San Francisco, whose great eyes opened wider\nstill as they listened, breathless, to stories beloved by their\nancestors. In later years the green volume journeyed by clumsy,\nrattling stage and rawboned nags to Mexico, and the extraordinary\nadventures of \"Yvon and Finette,\" \"Carlino,\" and \"Graceful\" were\nrepeated in freshly learned Spanish, to many a group of brown-cheeked\nlittle people on the hillsides of Sonora.\n\nAnd now, long, long afterward, there stands on a shelf above my desk\nthe very selfsame worn green volume, read and re-read a hundred times,\nbut so tenderly and respectfully that it has kept all its pages and\nboth its covers; and on this desk itself are the proofs of a new\nedition with clear, beautiful print and gay pictures by Edward\nMcCandlish!\n\nTo be asked to write an introduction to this particular book seems\ninsufferable patronage; yet one would do it for love of Laboulaye, or\nfor the sake of one's own \"little past,\" or to draw one more young\nreader into the charmed circle that will welcome these pages.\n\nThe two children who adored Laboulaye's \"Tales\" possessed many another\nfairy book, so why did this especial volume hold a niche apart in the\ngallery of their hearts?\n\nPartly, perhaps, because of the Gallic wit and vivacity with which the\ntales are told, for children are never too young to appreciate the\ncharms of style.\n\nYou remember, possibly, the French chef who, being imprisoned with no\nmaterials save the tools of his trade, and commanded on pain of death\nto produce an omelette, proudly emerged at last, bearing a savory dish\nmade out of the sole of his shoe?\n\nOf even such stuff Laboulaye could have concocted a delectable tale;\nbut with Brittany, Bohemia, Italy, Dalmatia, Hungary, and Spain for\nhis storehouses, one has only to taste to know how finely flavored are\nthe dishes he sets forth.\n\nIn his preface to the first American edition Laboulaye writes a letter\nto Mlle. Gabrielle Laboulaye, aged two! In it he says: \"When you throw\naway this book with your doll, do not be too severe with your old\ngrandfather for wasting his time on such trifles as fairy stories.\nExperience will teach you that the truest and sweetest things in life\nare not those which we see, but of which we dream.\" Happy the children\nwho have this philosophy set before them early in life.\n\nLike the fairy tales Robert Louis Stevenson remembered, these of\nLaboulaye's have \"the golden smell of broom and the shade of pine,\"\nand they will come back to the child whenever the Wind of Memory\nblows.\n\nIn common with the stories of Charles Perrault, literary parent of the\nfairy tale, Laboulaye's charming narratives have a certain unique\nquality due to the fact that they were intended and collected for the\nauthor's own children, were told to them round the fireside in the\nevening, and so received at first hand the comment and suggestion of a\nbevy of competent, if somewhat youthful, critics.\n\nIt is said that there is a great scarcity of fairy folk in modern\nFrance; and that, terrified by the thunders of the Revolution, they\nleft their unhappy country in a body during its stormy years, first\nassembling in grateful concourse around the tomb of Perrault, upon\nwhose memory they conferred the boon of immortality.\n\nIf this story is true--and the last reported act of the fairies on\nleaving France makes it appear so--then we may be sure that a few of\nthe more hardy and adventurous fays skipped back again across the\nborder and hid themselves in Laboulaye's box of jewels, where they\ngive to each gem an even brighter sheen and a more magical luster.\n\n\"QUILLCOTE,\" HOLLIS, MAINE.\n\n_August, 1920._\n\n\n\n\nLABOULAYE'S FAIRY BOOK\n\n\n\n\nOn the Kerver\n\nYVON _and_ FINETTE\n\n_A Tale of Brittany_\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\n\nI\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in Brittany a noble lord, who was called\nthe Baron Kerver. His manor-house was the most beautiful in the\nprovince. It was a great Gothic castle, with a groined roof and walls,\ncovered with carving, that looked at a distance like a vine climbing\nover an arbor. On the first floor six stained-glass balcony windows\nlooked out on each side toward the rising and the setting sun. In the\nmorning, when the baron, mounted on his dun mare, went forth into the\nforest, followed by his tall greyhounds, he saw at each window one of\nhis daughters, with prayer-book in hand, praying for the house of\nKerver, and who, with their fair curls, blue eyes, and clasped hands,\nmight have been taken for six Madonnas in an azure niche. At evening,\nwhen the sun declined and the baron returned homeward, after riding\nround his domains, he perceived from afar, in the windows looking\ntoward the west, six sons, with dark locks and eagle gaze, the hope\nand pride of the family, that might have been taken for six sculptured\nknights at the portal of a church. For ten leagues round, all who\nwished to quote a happy father and a powerful lord named the Baron\nKerver.\n\nThe castle had but twelve windows, and the baron had thirteen\nchildren. The last, the one that had no place, was a handsome boy of\nsixteen, by the name of Yvon. As usual, he was the best beloved. In\nthe morning, at his departure, and at evening, on his return, the\nbaron always found Yvon waiting on the threshold to embrace him. With\nhis hair falling to his waist, his graceful figure, his wilful air,\nand his bold bearing, Yvon was beloved by all the Bretons. At twelve\nyears of age he had bravely attacked and killed a wolf with an ax,\nwhich had won him the name of _Fearless_. He deserved the title, for\nnever was there a bolder heart.\n\nOne day, when the baron had stayed at home, and was amusing himself by\nbreaking a lance with his squire, Yvon entered the armory in a\ntraveling dress, and, bending one knee to the ground, \"My lord and\nfather,\" said he to the baron, \"I come to ask your blessing. The house\nof Kerver is rich in knights, and has no need of a child; it is time\nfor me to go to seek my fortune. I wish to go to distant countries to\ntry my strength and to make myself a name.\"\n\n\"You are right, Fearless,\" replied the baron, more moved than he\nwished to appear. \"I will not keep you back; I have no right to do so;\nbut you are very young, my child; perhaps it would be better for you\nto stay another year with us.\"\n\n\"I am sixteen, my father; at that age you had already fought one of\nthe proudest lords of the country. I have not forgotten that our arms\nare a unicorn ripping up a lion, and our motto. Onward! I do not wish\nthe Kervers to blush for their last child.\"\n\nYvon received his father's blessing, shook hands with his brothers,\nembraced his sisters, bid adieu to all the weeping vassals, and set\nout with a light heart.\n\nNothing stopped him on his way. A river appeared, he swam it; a\nmountain, he climbed it; a forest, he made his way through it with the\nsun for a guide. \"_On--the Kerver!_\" he cried, whenever he met with an\nobstacle, and went straight forward in spite of everything.\n\nFor three years he had been roaming over the world in search of\nadventures, sometimes conquering, sometimes conquered, always bold and\ngay, when he received an offer to go to fight the heathen of Norway.\nTo kill unbelievers and to conquer a kingdom was a double pleasure.\nYvon enlisted twelve brave comrades, freighted a ship, and hoisted\nfrom the mainmast a blue standard with the unicorn and motto of the\nKervers.\n\nThe sea was calm, the wind fair, and the night serene. Yvon,\nstretched on the deck, watched the stars, and sought the one which\ncast its trembling light on his father's castle. All at once the\nvessel struck upon a rock; a terrible crash was heard; the sails fell\nlike tinder; and an enormous wave burst over the deck and swept away\neverything upon it.\n\n\"_On--the Kerver!_\" cried Yvon, as soon as his head appeared above the\nwater, and he began to swim as tranquilly as if he had been bathing in\nthe lake of the old castle. Happily the moon was rising. Yvon saw, at\na little distance, a black speck among the silvery waves--it was land.\nHe approached it, not without difficulty, and finally succeeded in\ngaining a foothold. Dripping wet, exhausted with fatigue, and out of\nbreath, he dragged himself on the sand, then, without more anxiety,\nsaid his prayers and went to sleep.\n\n\nII\n\nIn the morning, on awaking, Yvon tried to discover in what country he\nhad been cast. He saw in the distance a house as large as a church,\nwith windows fifty feet in height. He walked a whole day before\nreaching it, and at last found himself in front of an immense door,\nwith a knocker so heavy that it was impossible for a man to lift it.\n\nYvon took a great stone and began to knock. \"Come in,\" cried a voice\nthat sounded like the roar of a bull. At the same instant the door\nopened, and the little Breton found himself in the presence of a\ngiant not less than forty feet in height.\n\n\"What is your name, and what do you want here?\" said the giant, taking\nup Yvon between his thumb and finger and lifting him from the ground\nso as to see him better.\n\n\"My name is Fearless, and I am seeking my fortune,\" answered Yvon,\nlooking at the monster with an air of defiance.\n\n\"Well, brave Fearless, your fortune is made,\" said the giant, in a\nmocking tone. \"I am in need of a servant and I will give you the\nplace. You can go to work directly. This is the time for leading my\nsheep to the pasture; you may clean the stable while I am gone. I\nshall give you nothing else to do,\" added he, bursting into a laugh.\n\"You see that I am a good master. Do your task, and, above all things,\ndon't prowl about the house, or it will cost you your life.\"\n\n\"Certainly I have a good master; the work is not hard,\" thought Yvon,\nwhen the giant was gone. \"I have plenty of time to sweep the stable.\nWhat shall I do meanwhile to amuse myself? Shall I look about the\nhouse? Since I am forbidden to do so, it must be because there is\nsomething to see.\"\n\nHe entered the first room, and saw a large fireplace in which a great\npot was hanging, suspended from a hook. The pot was boiling, but there\nwas no fire on the hearth.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" thought Yvon; \"there is some mystery here.\" He\ncut off a lock of his hair, dipped it into the pot, and took it out\nall coated with copper.\n\n\"Oh, oh!\" cried he, \"this is a new kind of soup; anybody that swallows\nit must have an iron-clad stomach.\"\n\nHe went into the next room; there also a pot was suspended from a\nhook, and boiling without fire. Yvon dipped a lock of hair into it,\nand took it out all coated with silver.\n\n\"The broth is not so rich as this in the Kerver kitchen,\" thought he,\n\"but it may have a better taste.\"\n\nUpon this, he entered the third room. There also a pot was suspended\nfrom a hook, and boiling without fire. Yvon dipped a lock of hair into\nit, and took it out all coated with gold. It shone so brightly that it\nmight have been mistaken for a sunbeam.\n\n\"Good!\" cried he. \"In our country the old women have a saying, 'Everything\ngets worse and worse'; here it is just the contrary--everything gets\nbetter and better. What shall I find in the fourth room, I wonder--diamond\nsoup?\"\n\nHe pushed open the door and saw something rarer than precious stones.\nThis was a young woman of such marvelous beauty that Yvon, dazzled,\nfell on his knees at the sight.\n\n\"Unfortunate youth!\" cried she, in a trembling voice, \"what are you\ndoing here?\"\n\n\"I belong to the house,\" answered Yvon; \"the giant took me into his\nservice this morning.\"\n\n\"His service!\" repeated the young girl. \"May Heaven preserve you from\nit!\"\n\n\"Why so?\" said Yvon. \"I have a good master; the work is not hard. The\nstable once swept, my task is finished.\"\n\n\"Yes, and how will you set to work to sweep it?\" said the lady. \"If\nyou sweep it in the usual way, for every forkful of dung that you\nthrow out of the door, ten will come in at the window. But I will tell\nyou what to do. Turn the fork and sweep with the handle, and the dung\nwill instantly fly out of itself.\"\n\n\"I will obey,\" said Yvon; upon which he sat down by the young girl and\nbegan to talk with her. She was the daughter of a fairy, whom the\nwretched giant had made his slave. Friendship soon springs up between\ncompanions in misfortune. Before the end of the day Finette (for that\nwas the lady's name) and Yvon had already promised to belong to each\nother if they could escape from their abominable master. The\ndifficulty was to find the means.\n\nTime passes quickly in this kind of talk. Evening was approaching when\nFinette sent away her new friend, advising him to sweep the stable\nbefore the giant came home.\n\nYvon took down the fork and attempted to use it as he had seen it\ndone at his father's castle. He soon had enough of it. In less than a\nsecond there was so much dung in the stable that the poor boy knew not\nwhich way to turn. He did as Finette had bid him; he turned the fork\nand swept with the handle, when, behold! in the twinkling of an eye\nthe stable was as clean as if no cattle had ever entered it.\n\nThe task finished, Yvon seated himself on a bench before the door of\nthe house. As soon as he saw the giant coming he lolled back in his\nseat, crossed his legs, and began to sing one of his native airs.\n\n\"Have you cleaned the stable?\" asked the giant, with a frown.\n\n\"Everything is ready, master,\" answered Yvon, without troubling\nhimself to move.\n\n\"I am going to see for myself,\" howled the giant. He entered the\nstable grumbling, found everything in order, and came out furious.\n\n\"You have seen my Finette,\" cried he; \"this trick did not come from\nyour own head.\"\n\n\"What is myfinette?\" asked Yvon, opening his mouth and shutting his\neyes. \"Is it one of the animals that you have in this country? Show it\nto me, master.\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue, fool,\" replied the giant; \"you will see her sooner\nthan you will want to.\"\n\nThe next morning the giant gathered his sheep together to lead them\nto the pasture, but before setting out he ordered Yvon to go in the\ncourse of the day in search of his horse, which was turned out to\ngraze on the mountain. \"After that,\" said he, bursting into a laugh,\n\"you can rest all day long. You see that I am a good master. Do your\ntask; and, above all things, don't prowl about the house or I will cut\noff your head.\"\n\nYvon winked his eye as the giant left. \"Yes, you are a good master,\"\nsaid he, between his teeth. \"I understand your tricks; but, in spite\nof your threats, I shall go into the house and talk with your Finette.\nIt remains to be seen whether she will not be more mine than yours.\"\n\nHe ran to the young girl's room. \"Hurrah!\" cried he; \"I have nothing\nto do all day but to go to the mountain after a horse.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Finette. \"How will you set to work to ride him?\"\n\n\"A fine question,\" returned Yvon. \"As if it was a difficult thing to\nride a horse! I fancy that I have ridden worse ones than this.\"\n\n\"It is not so easy as you think,\" replied Finette; \"but I will tell\nyou what to do. Take the bit that hangs behind the stable door, and,\nwhen the animal rushes toward you breathing fire and smoke from his\nnostrils, force it straight between his teeth; he will instantly\nbecome as gentle as a lamb, and you can do what you please with him.\"\n\n\"I will obey,\" said Yvon; upon which he sat down by the side of\nFinette and began to talk with her. They talked of everything; but,\nhowever far their fancy strayed, they always came back to the point\nthat they were promised to each other and that they must escape from\nthe giant. Time passes quickly in this kind of talk. The evening drew\nnigh. Yvon had forgotten the horse and the mountain, and Finette was\nobliged to send him away, advising him to bring back the animal before\nhis master's arrival.\n\nYvon took down the bit that was hidden behind the stable door and\nhastened to the mountain, when, lo! a horse almost as large as an\nelephant rushed toward him at full gallop, breathing fire and smoke\nfrom his nostrils. Yvon firmly awaited the huge animal, and, the\nmoment he opened his enormous jaws, thrust between them the bit; when,\nlo! the horse instantly became as gentle as a lamb. Yvon made him\nkneel down, sprang on his back, and tranquilly returned home.\n\nHis task finished, Yvon seated himself on the bench before the door of\nthe house. As soon as he saw the giant coming, he lolled back in his\nseat, crossed his legs, and began to sing one of his native airs.\n\n\"Have you brought back the horse?\" asked the giant, with a frown.\n\n\"Yes, master,\" answered Yvon, without taking the trouble to move. \"He\nis a fine animal and does you credit. He is gentle, well trained, and\nas quiet as a lamb. He is feeding yonder in the stable.\"\n\n\"I am going to see for myself,\" howled the giant. He entered the\nstable, grumbling, found everything in order, and came out furious.\n\n\"You have seen my Finette,\" he said; \"this trick did not come from\nyour own head.\"\n\n\"Oh, master,\" returned Yvon, opening his mouth and shutting his eyes,\n\"it is the same story over again. What is this myfinette? Once for\nall, show me this monster.\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue, fool,\" returned the giant; \"you will see her sooner\nthan you will want to.\"\n\nThe third day at dawn the giant gathered his sheep together to lead\nthem to the pasture; but, before setting out, he said to Yvon:\n\n\"To-day you must go to the bottomless pit to collect my rent. After\nthat,\" continued he, bursting into a laugh, \"you may rest all day\nlong. You see that I am a good master.\"\n\n\"A good master, so be it,\" murmured Yvon, \"but the task is none the\nless hard. I will go and see my Finette, as the giant says; I have\ngreat need of her help to get through to-day's business.\"\n\nWhen Finette had learned what was the task of the day, \"Well,\" said\nshe, \"how will you go to work to do it?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Yvon, sadly; \"I have never been to the bottomless\npit, and, even if I knew the way there, I should not know what to ask\nfor. Tell me what to do.\"\n\n\"Do you see that great rock yonder?\" said Finette; \"that is one of the\ngates of the bottomless pit. Take this stick, knock three times on the\nstone, and a demon will come out all streaming with flames, who will\nask you how much you want. Take care to answer, 'No more than I can\ncarry.'\"\n\n\"I will obey,\" said Yvon; upon which he took a seat by the side of\nFinette and began to talk with her. He would have been there till this\ntime if the young girl had not sent him to the great rock, when the\nevening drew nigh, to execute the giant's commands.\n\nOn reaching the spot pointed out to him, Yvon found a great block of\ngranite. He struck it three times with the stick, when, lo! the rock\nopened and a demon came forth all streaming with flames.\n\n\"What do you want?\" he cried.\n\n\"I have come for the giant's rent,\" answered Yvon, calmly.\n\n\"How much do you want?\"\n\n\"I never want any more than I can carry,\" replied the Breton.\n\n\"It is well for you that you do not,\" returned the man in flames.\n\"Enter this cavern and you will find what you want.\"\n\nYvon entered, and opened his eyes wide. Everywhere he saw nothing but\ngold, silver, diamonds, carbuncles, and emeralds. They were as\nnumerous as the sands on the seashore. The young Kerver filled a sack,\nthrew it across his shoulder, and tranquilly returned home.\n\nHis task finished, our Breton seated himself on the bench before the\ndoor of the house. As soon as he saw the giant coming he lolled back\nin his seat, crossed his legs, and began to sing one of his native\nairs.\n\n\"Have you been to the bottomless pit to collect my rent?\" asked the\ngiant, with a frown.\n\n\"Yes, master,\" answered Yvon, without taking the trouble to stir. \"The\nsack is right there before your eyes; you can count it.\"\n\n\"I am going to see for myself,\" howled the giant. He untied the\nstrings of the sack, which was so full that the gold and silver rolled\nin all directions.\n\n\"You have seen my Finette,\" he cried; \"this trick did not come from\nyour own head.\"\n\n\"Don't you know but one song?\" said Yvon, opening his mouth and\nshutting his eyes. \"It is the old story, myfinette, myfinette. Once\nfor all, show me this thing.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" roared the giant, with fury, \"wait till to-morrow and\nyou shall make her acquaintance.\"\n\n\"Thank you, master,\" said Yvon. \"It is very good of you; but I see\nfrom your face that you are laughing at me.\"\n\n\nIII\n\nThe next morning the giant went out without giving Yvon any orders,\nwhich troubled Finette. At noon he returned without his flock,\ncomplaining of the heat and fatigue, and said to the young girl:\n\n\"You will find a child, my servant, at the door. Cut his throat, put\nhim into the great pot to boil, and call me when the broth is ready.\"\nSaying this, he stretched himself on the bed to take a nap, and was\nsoon snoring so loudly that it seemed like thunder shaking the\nmountains.\n\nFinette prepared a log of wood, took a large knife, and called Yvon.\nShe pricked his little finger; three drops of blood fell on the log.\n\n\"That is enough,\" said Finette; \"now help me to fill the pot.\"\n\nThey threw into it all that they could find--old clothes, old shoes,\nold carpets, and everything else. Finette then took Yvon by the hand\nand led him through the three antechambers, where she ran in a mold\nthree bullets of gold, two bullets of silver, and one bullet of\ncopper, after which they quitted the house and ran toward the sea.\n\n[Illustration: HE WAS SOON SNORING SO LOUDLY THAT IT SEEMED LIKE\nTHUNDER SHAKING THE MOUNTAINS]\n\n\"_On--the Kerver!_\" cried Yvon, as soon as he saw himself in the\ncountry. \"Explain yourself, dear Finette; what farce are we playing\nnow?\"\n\n\"Let us run--let us run!\" she cried; \"if we do not quit this wretched\nisland before night, it is all over with us.\"\n\n\"_On--the Kerver!_\" replied Yvon, laughing, \"and down with the giant!\"\n\nWhen he had snored a full hour, the giant stretched his limbs, half\nopened one eye, and cried, \"Is it ready?\"\n\n\"It is just beginning to boil,\" answered the first drop of blood on\nthe log.\n\nThe giant turned over, and snored louder than ever for an hour or two\nlonger. Then he stretched his limbs, half opened one eye, and cried\nout: \"Do you hear me? Is it almost ready?\"\n\n\"It is half done,\" answered the second drop of blood on the log.\n\nThe giant turned over, and slept an hour longer. Then he yawned,\nstretched his great limbs, and cried out, impatiently:\n\n\"Isn't it ready yet?\"\n\n\"It is ready now,\" answered the third drop of blood on the log.\n\nThe giant sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and looked around to see who\nhad spoken; but it was in vain to look; he saw nobody.\n\n\"Finette,\" howled he, \"why isn't the table set?\"\n\nThere was no answer. The giant, furious, sprang out of bed, seized a\nladle, which looked like a caldron with a pitchfork for a handle, and\nplunged it into the pot to taste the soup.\n\n\"Finette!\" howled he, \"you haven't salted it. What sort of soup is\nthis? I see neither meat nor vegetables.\"\n\nNo; but, in return, he saw his carpet, which had not quite all boiled\nto pieces. At this sight he fell into such a fit of rage that he could\nnot keep his feet.\n\n\"Villains!\" said he, \"you have played a fine trick on me; but you\nshall pay for it.\"\n\nHe rushed out with a stick in his hand, and strode along at such a\nrate that in a quarter of an hour he discovered the two fugitives\nstill far from the seashore. He uttered such a cry of joy that the\nearth shook for twelve leagues around.\n\nFinette stopped, trembling. Yvon clasped her to his heart.\n\n\"_On--the Kerver!_\" said he; \"the sea is not far off; we shall be\nthere before our enemy.\"\n\n\"Here he is! here he is!\" cried Finette, pointing to the giant not a\nhundred yards off; \"we are lost if this charm does not save us.\"\n\nShe took the copper bullet and threw it on the ground, saying,\n\n    \"Copper bullet, save us, pray;\n    Stop the giant on his way.\"\n\nAnd behold, the earth cracked apart with a terrific noise, and an\nenormous fissure, a bottomless pit, stopped the giant just as he was\nstretching out his hand to seize his prey.\n\n\"Let us fly!\" cried Finette, grasping the arm of Yvon, who was gazing\nat the giant with a swaggering air, defying him to come on.\n\nThe giant ran backward and forward along the abyss, like a bear in his\ncage, seeking a passage everywhere and finding none; then, with a\nfurious jerk, he tore up an immense oak by the roots and flung it\nacross the gap. The branches of the oak nearly crushed the children as\nit fell. The giant seated himself astride the huge tree, which bent\nunder his weight, and crept slowly along, suspended between heaven and\nearth, entangled as he was among the branches. When he reached the\nother side, Yvon and Finette were already on the shore, with the sea\nrolling before them.\n\nAlas! there was neither bark nor ship. The fugitives were lost. Yvon,\nalways brave, picked up stones to attack the giant and to sell his\nlife dearly. Finette, trembling with fear, threw one of the silver\nbullets into the sea, saying,\n\n    \"Silver bullet, bright and pliant,\n    Save us from this frightful giant.\"\n\nScarcely had she spoken the magic words when a beautiful ship rose\nfrom the waves like a swan spreading its white wings. Yvon and Finette\nplunged into the sea; a rope was thrown them by an invisible hand,\nand when the furious giant reached the shore the ship was receding\nrapidly at full sail, leaving behind it a long furrow of shining foam.\n\nGiants do not like the water. This fact is certified to by old Homer,\nwho knew Polyphemus; and the same observation will be found in all\nnatural histories worthy of the name. Finette's master resembled\nPolyphemus. He roared with rage when he saw his slaves about to escape\nhim. He ran hesitatingly along the shore; he flung huge masses of rock\nafter the vessel, which happily fell by the side of it and only made\ngreat black holes in the water; and, finally, mad with anger, he\nplunged head foremost into the sea and began to swim after the ship\nwith frightful speed. At each stroke he advanced forty feet, blowing\nlike a whale, and like a whale cleaving the waves. By degrees he\ngained on his enemies; one more effort would bring him within reach of\nthe rudder, and already he was stretching out his arm to seize it,\nwhen Finette threw the second silver bullet into the sea and cried, in\ntears,\n\n    \"Silver bullet, bright and pliant,\n    Save us from this frightful giant.\"\n\nSuddenly from the midst of the foam darted forth a gigantic swordfish,\nwith a sword at least twenty feet in length. It rushed straight toward\nthe giant, who scarcely had time to dive, chased him under the water,\npursued him on the top of the waves, followed him closely whichever\nway he turned, and forced him to flee as fast as he could to his\nisland, where he finally landed with the greatest difficulty, and fell\nupon the shore dripping, worn out, and conquered.\n\n\"_On--the Kerver!_\" cried Yvon; \"we are saved.\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" said Finette, trembling. \"The giant has a witch for a\ngodmother; I fear that she will revenge on me the insult offered to\nher godson. My art tells me, my dear Yvon, that if you quit me a\nsingle instant until you give me your name in the chapel of the\nKervers I have everything to dread.\"\n\n\"By the unicorn of my ancestors,\" cried Yvon, \"you have the heart of a\nhare and not of a hero! Am I not here? Am I going to abandon you? Do\nyou believe that Providence has saved us from the fangs of that\nmonster to wreck us in port?\"\n\nHe laughed so gaily that Finette laughed in turn at the terror that\nhad seized her.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe rest of the voyage passed off admirably. An invisible hand seemed\nto impel the ship onward. Twenty days after their departure the boat\nlanded Yvon and Finette near Kerver Castle. Once on shore, Yvon turned\nto thank the crew. No one was there. Both boat and ship had vanished\nunder the waves, leaving no trace behind but a gull on the wing.\n\nYvon recognized the spot where he had so often gathered shells and\nchased the crabs to their holes when a child. Half an hour's walk\nwould bring him in sight of the towers of the old castle. His heart\nbeat; he looked tenderly at Finette and saw, for the first time, that\nher dress was fantastic and unworthy of a woman about to enter the\nnoble house of Kerver.\n\n\"My dear child,\" said he, \"the baron, my father, is a noble lord,\naccustomed to be treated with respect. I cannot introduce you to him\nin this gipsy dress; neither is it fitting that you should enter our\ngreat castle on foot like a peasant. Wait for me a few moments, and I\nwill bring you a horse and one of my sister's dresses. I wish you to\nbe received like a lady of high degree. I wish my father himself to\nmeet you on your arrival, and hold it an honor to give you his hand.\"\n\n\"Yvon, Yvon,\" cried Finette, \"do not quit me, I beg you. Once returned\nto your castle, I know that you will forget me.\"\n\n\"Forget you!\" exclaimed Yvon. \"If any one else were to offer me such\nan insult I would teach him with my sword to suspect a Kerver. Forget\nyou, my Finette! You do not know the fidelity of a Breton.\"\n\nThat the Bretons are faithful no one doubts; but that they are still\nmore headstrong is a justice that none will deny them. It was useless\nfor poor Finette to plead in her most loving tones; she was forced to\nyield. She resigned herself with a heavy heart, and said to Yvon:\n\n\"Go without me, then, to your castle, but only stay long enough to\nspeak to your friends; then go straight to the stable, and return as\nsoon as possible. You will be surrounded by people; act as if you saw\nno one, and, above all, do not eat or drink anything whatever. Should\nyou take only a glass of water, evil would come upon us both.\"\n\nYvon promised and swore all that Finette asked, but he smiled in his\nheart at this feminine weakness. He was sure of himself; and he\nthought with pride how different a Breton was from those fickle\nFrenchmen whose words, they say, are borne away by the first breath of\nthe wind.\n\nOn entering the old castle he could scarcely recognize its dark walls.\nAll the windows were festooned with leaves and flowers within and\nwithout; the courtyard was strewn with fragrant grass; on one side was\nspread tables groaning under their weight; on the other, musicians,\nmounted on casks, were playing merry airs. The vassals, dressed in\ntheir holiday attire, were singing and dancing and dancing and\nsinging. It was a great day of rejoicing at the castle. The baron\nhimself was smiling. It is true that he had just married his fifth\ndaughter to the Knight of Kervalec. This marriage added another\nquartering to the illustrious escutcheon of the Kervers.\n\nYvon, recognized and welcomed by all the crowd, was instantly\nsurrounded by his relatives, who embraced him and shook him by the\nhand. Where had he been? Where did he come from? Had he conquered a\nkingdom, a duchy, or a barony? Had he brought the bride the jewels of\nsome queen? Had the fairies protected him? How many rivals had he\noverthrown? All these questions were showered upon him without reply.\nYvon respectfully kissed his father's hand, hastened to his sisters'\nchamber, took two of their finest dresses, went to the stable, saddled\na pony, mounted a beautiful Spanish jennet, and was about to quit the\ncastle, when he found his relatives, friends, and vassals all standing\nin his way, their glasses in their hands, ready to drink their young\nlord's health and his safe return.\n\nYvon gracefully thanked them, bowed, and made his way by degrees\nthrough the crowd, when, just as he was about to cross the drawbridge,\na fair-haired lady, with a haughty and disdainful air, a stranger to\nhim, a sister of the bridegroom, perhaps, approached him, holding a\npomegranate in her hand.\n\n\"My handsome knight,\" said she, with a singular smile, \"you surely\nwill not refuse a lady's first request. Taste this pomegranate, I\nentreat you. If you are neither hungry nor thirsty after so long a\njourney, I suppose at least that you have not forgotten the laws of\npoliteness.\"\n\nYvon dared not refuse this appeal. He was very wrong. Scarcely had he\ntasted the pomegranate when he looked round him like a man waking from\na dream.\n\n\"What am I doing on this horse?\" thought he. \"What means this pony\nthat I am leading? Is not my place in my father's house at my sister's\nwedding? Why should I quit the castle?\"\n\nHe threw the bridle to one of the grooms, leaped lightly to the\nground, and offered his hand to the fair-haired lady, who accepted him\nas her attendant on the spot, and gave him her bouquet to hold as a\nspecial mark of favor.\n\nBefore the evening was over there was another betrothed couple in the\ncastle. Yvon had pledged his faith to the unknown lady and Finette was\nforgotten.\n\n\nV\n\nPoor Finette, seated on the seashore, waited all day long for Yvon,\nbut Yvon did not come. The sun was setting in the fiery waves when\nFinette rose, sighing, and took the way to the castle in her turn. She\nhad not walked long in a steep road, bordered with thorn-trees in\nblossom, when she found herself in front of a wretched hut at the door\nof which stood an old woman about to milk her cow. Finette approached\nher and, making a low courtesy, begged a shelter for the night.\n\nThe old woman looked at the stranger from head to foot. With her\nbuskins trimmed with fur, her full red petticoat, her blue jacket\nedged with jet, and her diadem, Finette looked more like an Egyptian\nprincess than a Christian. The old woman frowned and, shaking her fist\nin the face of the poor forsaken girl, \"Begone, witch!\" she cried;\n\"there is no room for you in this honest house.\"\n\n\"My good mother,\" said Finette, \"give me only a corner of the stable.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the old woman, laughing and showing the only tooth she had\nleft, which projected from her mouth like a bear's tusk, \"so you want\na corner of the stable, do you! Well, you shall have it if you will\nfill my milk-pail with gold.\"\n\n\"It is a bargain,\" said Finette, quietly. She opened a leather purse\nwhich she wore at her belt, took from it a golden bullet, and threw it\ninto the milk-pail, saying,\n\n    \"Golden bullet, precious treasure,\n    Save me, if it be thy pleasure.\"\n\nAnd behold! the pieces of gold began to dance about in the pail; they\nrose higher and higher, flapping about like fish in a net, while the\nold woman, on her knees, gazed with wonder at the sight.\n\n[Illustration: SHE FOUND HERSELF IN FRONT OF A WRETCHED HUT AT THE\nDOOR OF WHICH STOOD AN OLD WOMAN, OF WHOM SHE BEGGED SHELTER FOR THE\nNIGHT]\n\nWhen the pail was full the old woman rose, put her arm through the\nhandle, and said to Finette, \"Madam, all is yours, the house, the cow,\nand everything else. Hurrah! I am going to the town to live like a\nlady with nothing to do. Oh dear, how I wish I were only sixty!\" And,\nshaking her crutch, without looking backward, she set out on a run\ntoward Kerver Castle.\n\nFinette entered the house. It was a wretched hovel, dark, low, damp,\nbad-smelling, and full of dust and spiders' webs--a horrible refuge\nfor a woman accustomed to living in the giant's grand castle. Without\nseeming troubled, Finette went to the hearth, on which a few green\nboughs were smoking, took another golden bullet from her purse, and\nthrew it into the fire, saying,\n\n    \"Golden bullet, precious treasure,\n    Save me, if it be thy pleasure.\"\n\nThe gold melted, bubbled up, and spread all over the house like\nrunning water, and behold! the whole cottage, the walls, the thatch,\nthe wooden rocking-chair, the stool, the chest, the bed, the cow's\nhorns--everything, even to the spiders in their webs, was turned to\ngold. The house gleamed in the moonlight, among the trees, like a star\nin the night.\n\nWhen Finette had milked the cow and drank a little new milk, she threw\nherself on the bed without undressing, and, worn out by the fatigue\nof the day, fell asleep in the midst of her tears.\n\nOld women do not know how to hold their tongues, at least in Brittany.\nFinette's hostess had scarcely reached the village when she hastened\nto the house of the steward. He was an important personage, who had\nmore than once made her tremble when she had driven her cow into her\nneighbor's pasture by mistake. The steward listened to the old woman's\nstory, shook his head, and said it looked like witchcraft; then he\nmysteriously brought a pair of scales, weighed the guineas, which he\nfound to be genuine and of full weight, kept as many of them as he\ncould, and advised the owner to tell no one of this strange adventure.\n\"If it should come to the ears of the bailiff or the seneschal,\" said\nhe, \"the least that would happen to you, mother, would be to lose\nevery one of these beautiful bright guineas. Justice is impartial; it\nknows neither favor nor repugnance; it takes the whole.\"\n\nThe old woman thanked the steward for his advice, and promised to\nfollow it. She kept her word so well that she only told her story that\nevening to two neighbors, her dearest friends, both of whom swore on\nthe heads of their little children to keep it secret. The oath was a\nsolemn one, and so well kept that at noon the next day there was not a\nboy of six in the village that did not point his finger at the old\nwoman, while the very dogs seemed to bark in their language, \"Here is\nthe old woman with her guineas!\"\n\nA girl that amuses herself by filling milk-pails with gold is not to\nbe found every day. Even though she should be something of a witch,\nsuch a girl would none the less be a treasure in a family. The\nsteward, who was a bachelor, made this wise reflection that night on\ngoing to bed. Before dawn he rose to make his rounds in the direction\nof the stranger's cottage. By the first gleam of day he spied\nsomething shining in the distance like a light among the woods. On\nreaching the place, he was greatly surprised to find a golden cottage\ninstead of the wretched hut that had stood there the day before. But,\non entering the house, he was much more surprised and delighted to\nfind a beautiful young girl, with raven hair, sitting by the window\nand spinning on her distaff with the air of an empress.\n\nLike all men, the steward did himself justice, and knew, at the bottom\nof his heart, that there was not a woman in the world that would not\nbe too happy to give him her hand. Without hesitating, therefore, he\ndeclared to Finette that he had come to marry her. The young girl\nburst out laughing, upon which the steward flew into a passion.\n\n\"Take care!\" said he, in a terrible voice. \"I am the master here. No\none knows who you are or whence you came. The gold that you gave the\nold woman has raised suspicions. There is magic in this house. If you\ndo not accept me for a husband this very instant, I will arrest you,\nand before night, perhaps, a witch will be burned before Kerver\nCastle.\"\n\n\"You are very amiable,\" said Finette, with a charming grimace; \"you\nhave a peculiar way of paying court to ladies. Even when they have\ndecided not to refuse, a gallant man spares their blushes.\"\n\n\"We Bretons are plain-spoken people,\" replied the steward; \"we go\nstraight to the point. Marriage or prison, which do you choose?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Finette, laying down the distaff, \"there are the\nfirebrands falling all over the room.\"\n\n\"Don't trouble yourself,\" said the steward; \"I will pick them up.\"\n\n\"Lay them carefully on the top of the ashes,\" returned Finette. \"Have\nyou the tongs?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the steward, picking up the crackling coals.\n\n\"_Abracadabra!_\" cried Finette, rising. \"Villain, may the tongs hold\nyou, and may you hold the tongs till sunset!\"\n\nNo sooner said than done. The wicked steward stood there all day with\nthe tongs in his hand, picking up and throwing back the burning coals\nthat snapped in his face and the hot ashes that flew into his eyes. It\nwas useless for him to shout, pray, weep, and blaspheme; no one heard\nhim. If Finette had stayed at home, she would doubtless have taken\npity on him; but after putting the spell upon him, she hastened to\nthe seashore, where, forgetting everything else, she watched for Yvon\nin vain.\n\nThe moment that the sun set, the tongs fell from the steward's hands.\nHe did not stop to finish his errand, but ran as if the devil or\njustice were at his heels. He made such leaps, he uttered such groans,\nhe was so blackened, scorched, and benumbed, that every one in the\nvillage was afraid of him, thinking that he was mad. The boldest tried\nto speak to him, but he fled without answering, and hid himself in his\nhouse, more ashamed than a wolf that has left his paw in the trap.\n\nAt evening, when Finette returned home in despair, instead of the\nsteward she found another visitor little less formidable. The bailiff\nhad heard the story of the guineas and had also made up his mind to\nmarry the stranger. He was not rough, like the steward, but a fat,\ngood-natured man that could not speak without bursting into a laugh,\nshowing his great yellow teeth, and puffing and blowing like an ox,\nthough at heart he was not less obstinate or less threatening than his\npredecessor. Finette entreated the bailiff to leave her alone. He\nlaughed, and hinted to her, in a good-natured way, that, by right of\nhis office, he had the power to imprison and hang people without\nprocess of law. She clasped her hands and begged him with tears to go.\nFor his only answer, he took a roll of parchment from his pocket,\nwrote on it a contract of marriage, and declared to Finette that,\nshould he stay all night, he would not leave the house till she had\nsigned the promise.\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" said he, \"if you do not like my person, I have another\nparchment here on which I will write an agreement to live apart; and\nif my sight annoys you you have only to shut your eyes.\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Finette, \"I might decide to do as you wish if I were sure\nof finding a good husband in you; but I am afraid.\"\n\n\"Of what, my dear child?\" asked the bailiff, smiling, and already as\nproud as a peacock.\n\n\"Do you think,\" said she, with a pettish air, \"that a good husband\nwould leave that door wide open and not know that his wife was\nfreezing with cold?\"\n\n\"You are right, my dear,\" said the bailiff; \"it was very stupid in me.\nI will go and shut it.\"\n\n\"Have you hold of the knob?\" asked Finette.\n\n\"Yes, my charmer,\" answered the happy bailiff; \"I am just shutting the\ndoor.\"\n\n\"_Abracadabra!_\" cried Finette. \"May you hold the door, villain, and\nmay the door hold you till daybreak.\"\n\nAnd behold! the door opened and shut, and slammed against the walls\nlike an eagle flapping its wings. You may judge what a dance the poor\ncaptive kept up all night. Never had he tried such a waltz, and I\nimagine that he never wished to dance a second one of the same sort.\nSometimes the door swung open with him in the street; sometimes it\nflew back and crushed him against the wall. He swung backward and\nforward, screaming, swearing, weeping, and praying, but all in vain;\nthe door was deaf, and Finette asleep.\n\nAt daybreak his hands unclasped and he fell in the road head foremost.\nWithout waiting to finish his errand, he ran as if the Moors were\nafter him. He did not even turn round, for fear that the door might be\nat his heels. Fortunately for him, all were still asleep when he\nreached the village, and he could hide himself in bed without any one\nseeing his deplorable plight. This was a great piece of good fortune\nfor him, for he was covered with whitewash from head to foot, and so\npale, haggard, and trembling that he might have been taken for the\nghost of a miller escaped from the infernal regions.\n\nWhen Finette opened her eyes she saw by her bedside a tall man dressed\nin black, with a velvet cap and a sword. It was the seneschal of the\nbarony of Kerver. He stood with his arms folded, gazing at Finette in\na way that chilled the very marrow of her bones.\n\n\"What is your name, vassal?\" said he, in a voice of thunder.\n\n\"Finette, at your service, my lord,\" replied she, trembling.\n\n\"Is this house and furniture yours?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord, everything, at your service.\"\n\n\"I mean that it shall be at my service,\" returned the seneschal,\nsternly. \"Rise, vassal! I do you the honor to marry you, and to take\nyourself, your person, and your property under my guardianship.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" returned Finette, \"this is much too great an honor for a\npoor girl like me, a stranger, without friends or kindred.\"\n\n\"Be silent, vassal!\" replied the seneschal. \"I am your lord and\nmaster; I have nothing to do with your advice. Sign this paper.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Finette, \"I don't know how to write.\"\n\n\"Do you think that I do, either?\" returned the seneschal, in a voice\nthat shook the house. \"Do you take me for a clerk? A cross--that is\nthe signature of gentlemen.\"\n\nHe made a large cross on the paper, and handed the pen to Finette.\n\n\"Sign,\" said he. \"If you are afraid to make a cross, infidel, you pass\nyour own death sentence, and I shall take on myself to execute it.\" He\ndrew his heavy sword from the scabbard as he spoke, and threw it on\nthe table.\n\nFor her only answer, Finette leaped out of the window and ran to the\nstable. The seneschal pursued her thither, but, on attempting to\nenter, an unexpected obstacle stopped him. The frightened cow had\nbacked at the sight of the young girl, and stood in the doorway, with\nFinette clinging to her horns and making of her a sort of buckler.\n\n\"You shall not escape me, sorceress!\" cried the seneschal, and, with a\ngrasp like that of Hercules, he seized the cow by the tail and dragged\nher out of the stable.\n\n\"_Abracadabra!_\" cried Finette. \"May the cow's tail hold you, villain,\nand may you hold the cow's tail till you have both been around the\nworld together.\"\n\nAnd behold! the cow darted off like lightning, dragging the unhappy\nseneschal after her. Nothing stopped the two inseparable comrades;\nthey rushed over mountains and valleys, crossed marshes, rivers,\nquagmires, and brakes, glided over the seas without sinking, were\nfrozen in Siberia and scorched in Africa, climbed the Himalayas,\ndescended Mont Blanc, and at length, after thirty-six hours of a\njourney, the like of which had never been seen, both stopped out of\nbreath in the public square of the village.\n\nA seneschal harnessed to a cow's tail is a sight not to be seen every\nday, and all the peasants in the neighborhood crowded together to\nwonder at the spectacle. But, torn as he was by the cactuses of\nBarbary and the thickets of Tartary, the seneschal had lost nothing of\nhis haughty air. With a threatening gesture he dispersed the rabble,\nand limped to his house to taste the repose of which he began to feel\nthe need.\n\n\nVI\n\nWhile the steward, the bailiff, and the seneschal were experiencing\nthese little unpleasantnesses, of which they did not think it proper\nto boast, preparations were being made for a great event at Kerver\nCastle, namely, the marriage of Yvon and the fair-haired lady. Two\ndays had passed in these preparations, and all the friends of the\nfamily had gathered together for twenty leagues round, when, one fine\nmorning Yvon and his bride, with the Baron and Baroness Kerver, took\ntheir seats in a great carriage adorned with flowers, and set out for\nthe celebrated church of St. Maclou.\n\nA hundred knights in full armor, mounted on horses decked with\nribbons, rode on each side of the betrothed couple, each with his\nvizor raised and his lance at rest in token of honor. By the side of\neach baron, a squire, also on horseback, carried the seigniorial\nbanner. At the head of the procession rode the seneschal, with a\ngilded staff in his hand. Behind the carriage gravely walked the\nbailiff, followed by the vassals, while the steward railed at the\nserfs, a noisy and curious rabble.\n\nAs they were crossing a brook, a league from the castle, one of the\ntraces of the carriage broke, and they were forced to stop. The\naccident repaired, the coachman cracked his whip, and the horses\nstarted with such force that the new trace broke in three pieces. Six\ntimes this provoking piece of wood was replaced, and six times it\nbroke anew, without drawing the carriage from the hole where it was\nwedged.\n\nEvery one had a word of advice to offer; even the peasants, as\nwheelwrights and carpenters, were not the last to make a show of their\nknowledge. This gave the steward courage; he approached the baron,\ntook off his cap, and, scratching his head,\n\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"in the house that you see shining yonder among\nthe trees there lives a woman who does things such as nobody else can\ndo. Only persuade her to lend you her tongs, and, in my opinion, they\nwill hold till morning.\"\n\nThe baron made a sign, and ten peasants ran to the cottage of Finette,\nwho very obligingly lent them her gold tongs. They were put in the\nplace of the trace; the coachman cracked his whip, and off went the\ncarriage like a feather.\n\nEvery one rejoiced, but the joy did not last long. A hundred steps\nfarther, lo! the bottom of the carriage gave way; little more, and the\nnoble Kerver family would have sunk quite out of sight. The\nwheelwrights and the carpenters set to work at once; they sawed\nplanks, nailed them down fast, and in the twinkling of an eye repaired\nthe accident. The coachman cracked his whip and the horses started,\nwhen, behold! half of the carriage was left behind; the Baroness\nKerver sat motionless by the side of the bride, while Yvon and the\nbaron were carried off at full gallop. Here was a new difficulty.\nThree times was the carriage mended, three times it broke anew. There\nwas every reason to believe that it was enchanted.\n\nEvery one had a word of advice to offer. This gave the bailiff\ncourage. He approached the baron and said, in a low tone:\n\n\"My lord, in the house that you see shining yonder among the trees\nthere lives a woman who does things such as nobody else can do. Only\npersuade her to lend you her door for the bottom of the carriage, and,\nin my opinion, it will hold till morning.\"\n\nThe baron made a sign, and twenty peasants ran to the cottage of\nFinette, who very obligingly lent them her gold door. They put it in\nthe bottom of the carriage, where it fitted as if it had been made\nexpressly for it. The party took their seats in the carriage, the\ncoachman cracked his whip, the church was in sight, and all the\ntroubles of the journey seemed ended.\n\nNot at all! Suddenly the horses stopped and refused to draw. There\nwere four of them. Six, eight, ten, twenty-four more were put to the\ncarriage, but all in vain; it was impossible to stir them. The more\nthey were whipped the deeper the wheels sunk into the ground, like the\ncoulter of a plow.\n\nWhat were they to do? To go on foot would have been a disgrace. To\nmount a horse and ride to the church like simple peasants was not the\ncustom of the Kervers. They tried to lift the carriage, they pushed\nthe wheels, they shook it, they pulled it, but all in vain. Meanwhile\nthe day was declining and the hour for the marriage had passed.\n\nEvery one had a word of advice to offer. This gave the seneschal\ncourage. He approached the baron, alighted from his horse, raised his\nvelvet cap, and said:\n\n\"My lord, in the house that you see shining yonder among the trees\nthere lives a woman who does things such as nobody else can do. Only\npersuade her to lend you her cow to draw the carriage, and, in my\nopinion, she will draw it till morning.\"\n\nThe baron made a sign, and thirty peasants ran to the cottage of\nFinette, who very obligingly lent them her golden-horned cow.\n\nTo go to church drawn by a cow was not, perhaps, what the ambitious\nbride had dreamed of, but it was better than to remain unmarried in\nthe road. The heifer was harnessed, therefore, before the four horses,\nand everybody looked on anxiously to see what this boasted animal\nwould do.\n\nBut before the coachman had time to crack his whip, lo! the cow\nstarted off as if she were about to go around the world anew. Horses,\ncarriage, baron, betrothed, coachman, all were hurried away by the\nfurious animal. In vain the knights spurred their horses to follow the\npair; in vain the peasants ran at full speed, taking the cross-road\nand cutting across the meadows. The carriage flew as if it had wings;\na pigeon could not have followed it.\n\nOn reaching the door of the church, the party, a little disturbed by\nthis rapid journey, would not have been sorry to alight. Everything\nwas ready for the ceremony and the bridal pair had long been expected;\nbut, instead of stopping, the cow redoubled her speed. Thirteen times\nshe ran round the church like lightning, then suddenly made her way in\na straight line across the fields to the castle, with such force that\nthe whole party were almost shaken to pieces before their arrival.\n\n\nVII\n\nNo more marriage was to be thought of for that day; but the tables\nwere set and the dinner served, and the Baron Kerver was too noble a\nknight to take leave of his brave Bretons until they had eaten and\ndrunk according to custom--that is, from sunset till sunrise, and even\na little later.\n\nOrders were given for the guests to take their seats. Ninety-six\ntables were ranged in eight rows. In front of them, on a large\nplatform covered with velvet, with a canopy in the middle, was a table\nlarger than the rest, and loaded with fruit and flowers, to say\nnothing of the roast hares, and the peacocks smoking beneath their\nplumage. At this table the bridal pair were to have been seated in\nfull sight, in order that nothing might be lacking to the pleasures\nof the feast, and that the meanest peasant might have the honor of\nsaluting them by emptying his cup of hydromel to the honor and\nprosperity of the high and mighty house of Kerver.\n\nThe baron seated the hundred knights at his table, and placed their\nsquires behind their chairs to serve them. At his right he put the\nbride and Yvon, but he left the seat at his left vacant, and, calling\na page, \"Child,\" said he, \"run to the house of the stranger lady who\nobliged us only too much this morning. It was not her fault if her\nsuccess exceeded her good will. Tell her that the Baron Kerver thanks\nher for her help and invites her to the wedding feast of his son, Lord\nYvon.\"\n\nOn reaching the golden house, where Finette, in tears, was mourning\nfor her beloved, the page bent one knee to the ground and, in the\nbaron's name, invited the stranger lady to the castle to do honor to\nthe wedding of Lord Yvon.\n\n\"Thank your master for me,\" answered the young girl, proudly, \"and\ntell him that if he is too noble to come to my house, I am too noble\nto go to his.\"\n\nWhen the page repeated this answer to his master the Baron Kerver\nstruck the table such a blow that three plates flew in the air.\n\n\"By my honor,\" said he, \"this is spoken like a lady, and for the first\ntime I own myself beaten. Quick, saddle my dun mare, and let my\nknights and squires prepare to attend me.\"\n\nIt was with this brilliant train that the baron alighted at the door\nof the golden cottage. He begged Finette's pardon, held the stirrup\nfor her, and seated her behind him on his own horse, neither more nor\nless than a duchess in person. Through respect, he did not speak a\nsingle word to her on the way. On reaching the castle he uncovered his\nhead and led her to the seat of honor that he had chosen for her.\n\nThe baron's departure had made a great excitement, and his return\ncaused still greater surprise. Every one asked who the lady could be\nthat the baron treated with such respect. Judging from her costume,\nshe was a foreigner. Could she be the Duchess of Normandy or the Queen\nof France? The steward, the bailiff, and the seneschal were appealed\nto. The steward trembled, the bailiff turned pale, and the seneschal\nblushed, but all three were as mute as fishes. The silence of these\nimportant personages added to the general wonder.\n\nAll eyes were fixed on Finette, who felt a deadly chill at her heart,\nfor Yvon saw, but did not know her. He cast an indifferent glance at\nher, then began again to talk in a tender tone to the fair-haired\nlady, who smiled disdainfully.\n\nFinette, in despair, took from the purse the golden bullet, her last\nhope. While talking with the baron, who was charmed with her wit, she\nshook the little ball in her hand, and repeated, in a whisper,\n\n    \"Golden bullet, precious treasure,\n    Save me, if it be thy pleasure.\"\n\nAnd behold! the bullet grew larger and larger, until it became a\ngoblet of chased gold, the most beautiful cup that ever graced the\ntable of baron or king.\n\nFinette filled the cup herself with spiced wine, and, calling the\nseneschal, who was cowering behind her, she said, in her gentlest\ntones, \"My good seneschal, I entreat you to offer this goblet to Lord\nYvon. I wish to drink his health, and I am sure that he will not\nrefuse me this pleasure.\"\n\nYvon took the goblet, which the seneschal presented to him on a salver\nof enamel and gold, with a careless hand, bowed to the stranger, drank\nthe wine, and, setting the cup on the table before him, turned to the\nfair-haired lady who occupied all his thoughts. The lady seemed\nanxious and vexed. He whispered a few words in her ear that seemed to\nplease her, for her eyes sparkled, and she placed her hand again in\nhis.\n\nFinette cast down her head and began to weep. All was over.\n\n\"Children,\" cried the baron, in a voice of thunder, \"fill your\nglasses. Let us drink to the noble stranger who honors us with her\npresence. To the noble lady of the golden cottage!\"\n\nAll began to huzzah and drink. Yvon contented himself with raising his\ngoblet to a level with his eyes. Suddenly he started and stood mute,\nhis mouth open and his eyes fixed, like a man that has a vision.\n\nIt was a vision. In the gold of the goblet Yvon saw his past life as\nin a mirror: the giant pursuing him; Finette dragging him along; both\nembarking in the ship that saved them; both landing on the shore of\nBrittany; he quitting her for an instant; she weeping at his\ndeparture. Where was she? By his side, of course. What other woman\nthan Finette could be by the side of Yvon?\n\nHe turned toward the fair-haired lady and cried out like a man\ntreading on a serpent. Then, staggering as if he were drunk, he rose\nand looked around him with haggard eyes. At the sight of Finette he\nclasped his trembling hands and, dragging himself toward her, fell on\nhis knees and exclaimed, \"Finette, forgive me!\"\n\nTo forgive is the height of happiness. Before evening Finette was\nseated by the side of Yvon, both weeping and smiling.\n\nAnd what became of the fair-haired lady? No one knows. At the cry of\nYvon she disappeared; but it was said that a wretched old hag was seen\nflying on a broomstick over the castle walls, chased by the dogs; and\nit was the common opinion among the Kervers that the fair-haired lady\nwas none other than the witch, the godmother of the giant. I am not\nsure enough of the fact, however, to dare warrant it. It is always\nprudent to believe, without proof, that a woman may be a witch, but it\nis never wise to say so.\n\nWhat I can say on the word of a historian is that the feast,\ninterrupted for a moment, went on gayer than ever. Early the next\nmorning they went to the church, where, to the joy of his heart, Yvon\nmarried Finette, who was no longer afraid of evil spirits; after which\nthey ate, drank, and danced for thirty-six hours, without any one\nthinking of resting. The steward's arms were a little heavy, the\nbailiff rubbed his back at times, and the seneschal felt a sort of\nweariness in his limbs, but all three had a weight on their\nconsciences which they could not shake off, and which made them\ntremble and flutter, till finally they fell on the ground and were\ncarried off. Finette took no other vengeance on them; her only desire\nwas to render all happy around her, far and near, who belonged to the\nnoble house of Kerver. Her memory still lives in Brittany; and among\nthe ruins of the old castle, any one will show you the statue of the\ngood lady, with five bullets in her hand.\n\n\n\n\n_The_ Castle _of_ Life\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived at Salerno a poor old woman who earned\nher bread by fishing, and whose only comfort and stay in life was her\ngrandson, a boy twelve years of age, whose father had been drowned in\na storm and whose mother had died of grief. Graceful, for this was the\nchild's name, loved nobody in the world but his grandmother; he\nfollowed her to the shore every morning before daybreak to pick up the\nshell-fish or draw the net to the beach, longing for the time when he\nshould be strong enough to go to sea himself and brave the waves that\nhad swallowed up all his kindred. He was so handsome, so well made,\nand so promising, that no sooner had he entered the town with his\nbasket of fish on his head than every one ran after him, and he sold\nthe whole before he reached the market.\n\nUnfortunately, the grandmother was very old; she had but one front\ntooth left, her head shook with age, and her eyes were dim. Every\nmorning she found it harder to rise than the day before. Feeling that\nshe had but a few days longer to live, at night, before Graceful\nwrapped himself in his blanket and lay down on the ground to sleep,\nshe always gave him good counsels for him to follow when she was gone;\nshe told him what fishermen to avoid, and how, by being good and\nindustrious, prudent and resolute, he would make his way in the world\nand finally have a boat and nets of his own. The poor boy paid little\nheed to all this wisdom. As soon as his grandmother began to put on a\ngrave air he threw his arms around her neck and cried: \"Grandmamma,\ngrandmamma, don't leave me. I have hands, I am strong, I shall soon be\nable to work for us both; but if you were not here at night when I\ncame home from fishing, what would become of me?\"\n\n\"My child,\" said the old woman one day to him, \"I shall not leave you\nso much alone as you think; when I am gone you will have two powerful\nprotectors whom more than one prince might envy you. A long time ago I\ndid a favor to two great ladies, who will not forget you when the time\ncomes to call them, which will be very soon.\"\n\n\"Who are these two ladies?\" asked Graceful, who had never seen any\nwomen but fishermen's wives in the hut.\n\n\"They are two fairies,\" replied his grandmother--\"two powerful\nfairies--the Fairy of the Woods and the Fairy of the Waters. Listen to\nme, my child; I am going to intrust you with a secret--a secret which\nyou must keep as carefully as I have done, and which will give you\nwealth and happiness. Ten years ago, the same year that your father\ndied and your mother also left us, I went out one morning before\ndaybreak to surprise the crabs asleep in the sand. As I was stooping\ndown, hidden by a rock, I saw a kingfisher slowly floating toward the\nbeach. The kingfisher is a sacred bird which should always be\nrespected; knowing this, I let it alight and did not stir, for fear of\nfrightening it. At the same moment I saw a beautiful green adder come\nfrom a cleft of the mountain and crawl along the sand toward the bird.\nWhen they were near each other, without either seeming surprised at\nthe meeting, the adder coiled itself around the neck of the\nkingfisher, as if tenderly embracing it; they remained thus entwined\nfor a few moments, after which they suddenly separated, the adder to\nreturn to the rock, and the kingfisher to plunge into the waves which\nbore it away.\n\n[Illustration: AT NIGHT THE GRANDMOTHER ALWAYS GAVE HIM GOOD COUNSELS\nFOR HIM TO FOLLOW WHEN SHE WAS GONE]\n\n\"Greatly astonished at what I had seen, I returned the next morning at\nthe same hour, and at the same hour the kingfisher also alighted on\nthe sands and the adder came from its retreat. There was no doubt that\nthey were fairies, perhaps enchanted fairies, to whom I could render a\nservice. But what was I to do? To show myself would have been to\ndisplease them and run into danger; it was better to wait for a\nfavorable opportunity which chance would doubtless offer. For a whole\nmonth I lay in ambush, witnessing the same spectacle every morning,\nwhen one day I saw a huge black cat arrive first at the place of\nmeeting and hide itself behind a rock, almost under my hand. A black\ncat could be nothing else than an enchanter, according to what I had\nlearned in my childhood, and I resolved to watch him. Scarcely had the\nkingfisher and the adder embraced each other when, behold! the cat\ngathered itself up and sprang upon these innocents. It was my turn to\nthrow myself upon the wretch, who already held his victims in his\nmurderous claws; I seized him, despite his struggles, although he tore\nmy hands in pieces, and without pity, knowing with whom I had to deal,\nI took the knife which I used to open shell-fish, and cut off the\nmonster's head, claws, and tail, confidently awaiting the success of\nmy devotion.\n\n\"I did not wait long; no sooner had I thrown the body of the animal\ninto the sea than I saw before me two beautiful ladies, one crowned\nwith white plumes, the other with a serpent's skin thrown like a scarf\nacross her shoulder. They were, as I have already told you, the Fairy\nof the Waters and the Fairy of the Woods, who, enchanted by a wretched\ngenie who had learned their secret, had been forced to remain a\nkingfisher and an adder until freed by some generous hand, and who\nowed me their power and freedom.\n\n\"'Ask of us what you will,' said they, 'and your request shall be\ninstantly granted.'\n\n\"I reflected that I was old, and had suffered too much in life to wish\nto begin it anew, while the day would come, my child, when nothing\nwould be too great for your desires; when you wish to be rich,\nnoble--a general, a marquis, a prince, perhaps! When that day comes,\nthought I, I can give him everything, and a single moment of such\nhappiness will repay me for eighty years of pain and misery. I thanked\nthe fairies, therefore, and entreated them to keep their good will\ntill the day when I should have need of it. The Fairy of the Waters\ntook a small feather from her crown, and the Fairy of the Woods\ndetached a scale from her scarf.\n\n\"'My good woman,' said they, 'when you wish for us, place this feather\nand this scale in a vessel of pure water and call on us, making a\nwish. Should we be at the end of the world, we will be at your side in\nan instant, ready to pay the debt we owe you.'\n\n\"I bowed my head in token of gratitude. When I raised it all had\nvanished; even the wounds and blood had disappeared from my hands, and\nI should have thought that I had been dreaming, had not the scale of\nthe serpent and the feather of the kingfisher remained in my hand.\"\n\n\"And where are these treasures, grandmamma?\" asked Graceful.\n\n\"My child, I have carefully concealed them,\" answered the old woman,\n\"not wishing to show them to you till you were a man and able to make\nuse of them; but since death is about to separate us, the moment has\ncome to give you these precious talismans. You will find at the back\nof the cupboard a wooden chest hidden under some rags; in the chest is\na little pasteboard box, wound about with tow; open this box and you\nwill find the scale and the feather carefully wrapped in cotton. Take\ncare not to break them; handle them respectfully, and I will tell you\nwhat next to do.\"\n\nGraceful brought the box to the poor woman, who was no longer able to\nquit her pallet, and she herself took from it the two articles.\n\n\"Now,\" said she, giving them to her grandson, \"put a bowlful of water\nin the middle of the room; place the scale and the feather in the\nwater, and make a wish--wish for fortune, nobility, wit, power,\nwhatever you please; only, as I feel that I am dying, kiss me once\nmore, my child, before speaking the words that will separate us\nforever, and receive my last blessing; it will be another talisman to\nbring you happiness.\"\n\nBut, to the old woman's surprise, Graceful did not come near her,\neither to kiss her or to receive her blessing. He quickly placed the\nbowl in the middle of the room, threw the feather and scale into the\nwater, and shouted at the top of his voice, \"Appear, Fairy of the\nWaters! I wish that my grandmother may live forever. Appear, Fairy of\nthe Woods! I wish that my grandmother may live forever.\"\n\nAnd behold! the water bubbled, bubbled, bubbled; the bowl grew to a\ngreat basin, which the walls of the hut could scarcely hold, and from\nthe bottom of the basin Graceful saw two beautiful young women rise,\nwhom he knew directly from their wands to be fairies. One wore a crown\nof holly leaves mixed with red berries, and diamond ear-rings\nresembling acorns in their cups; she was dressed in a robe of olive\ngreen, over which a speckled skin was knotted like a scarf across the\nright shoulder--this was the Fairy of the Woods. As to the Fairy of\nthe Waters, she wore a garland of reeds on her head, with a white robe\ntrimmed with the feathers of aquatic birds, and a blue scarf, which\nnow and then rose above her head and fluttered like the sail of a\nship. Great ladies as they were, they looked smilingly at Graceful,\nwho had taken refuge in his grandmother's arms, and trembled with fear\nand admiration.\n\n\"Here we are, my child,\" said the Fairy of the Waters, who spoke\nfirst, as the eldest. \"We have heard what you said, and your wish does\nyou honor; but, though we can help you in the plan which you have\nconceived, you alone can execute it. We can, indeed, prolong your\ngrandmother's life for some time, but, for her to live forever, you\nmust go the Castle of Life, four long days' journey from here, on the\ncoast of Sicily. There you will find the Fountain of Immortality. If\nyou can accomplish each of these four days' journey without turning\naside from the road, and, on reaching the castle, can answer three\nquestions that will be put to you by an invisible voice, you will\nobtain what you desire. But, my child, reflect well before undertaking\nthis adventure, for you will meet more than one danger on the way; and\nif you fail a single time to reach the end of your day's journey you\nwill not only miss the object of your pursuit, but you will never quit\nthe country, from which none has ever returned.\"\n\n\"I will go, madam,\" returned Graceful.\n\n\"But you are very young, my child,\" said the Fairy of the Woods, \"and\nyou do not even know the way.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" replied Graceful. \"I am sure, beautiful ladies, that you\nwill not forsake me, and to save my grandmother I would go to the end\nof the world.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" said the Fairy of the Woods. Then separating the lead from a\nbroken window-pane, she placed it in the hollow of her hand.\n\nAnd behold! the lead began to melt and bubble without seeming to burn\nthe fairy, who threw the metal on the hearth, where it cooled in a\nthousand different forms.\n\n\"What do you see in all that?\" said the fairy to Graceful.\n\n\"It seems to me, madam,\" said he, after looking attentively, \"that I\nsee a spaniel with a long tail and large ears.\"\n\n\"Call him,\" said the fairy.\n\nA barking was instantly heard, and forth from the metal sprang a black\nand flame-colored spaniel, which began to gambol and leap around\nGraceful.\n\n\"This will be your companion,\" said the fairy. \"His name is Fido. He\nwill show you the way; but I warn you that it is for you to direct\nhim, and not for him to lead you. If you make him obey, he will serve\nyou; if you obey him, he will destroy you.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said the Fairy of the Waters, \"have I nothing to give you, my\npoor Graceful?\"\n\nThen, looking around her, the lady saw on the ground a bit of paper,\nwhich she tossed into the fire with her tiny foot. The paper caught\nfire, and as soon as the blaze had died away thousands of little\nsparks were seen chasing one another about. The fairy watched these\nsparks with a curious eye; then, as the last one was about to go out,\nshe blew upon the cinders, when, lo! the chirp of a bird was heard,\nand a swallow rose, which fluttered, terrified, about the room and\nfinally alighted on Graceful's shoulder.\n\n\"This will be your companion,\" said the Fairy of the Waters. \"Her name\nis Pensive. She will show you the way; but I warn you it is for you to\ndirect her, and not for her to lead you. If you make her obey, she\nwill serve you; if you obey her, she will destroy you.\"\n\n\"Stir the black ashes,\" added the good Fairy of the Waters, \"and\nperhaps you will find something there.\"\n\nGraceful obeyed. Under the ashes of the paper he found a vial of rock\ncrystal, sparkling like a diamond. This, the fairy said, was to hold\nthe water of immortality, which would break any vessel made by the\nhand of man. By the side of the vial Graceful found a dagger with a\ntriangular blade--a very different thing from the stiletto of his\nfather the fisherman, which he had been forbidden to touch. With this\nweapon he could brave the proudest enemy.\n\n\"My sister, you shall not be more generous than I,\" said the other\nfairy; then, taking a rush from the only chair in the room, she blew\nupon it, when, lo! the rush instantly swelled, and in less time than\nit takes to tell it became a beautiful musket, inlaid with\nmother-of-pearl. A second rush produced a cartridge-box, which\nGraceful slung around his body and which became him marvelously. One\nwould have thought him a prince setting out for the chase; he was so\nhandsome that his grandmother wept for joy and emotion.\n\nThe two fairies vanished; Graceful kissed the good old woman, urging\nher to await his return, and knelt before her to receive her blessing.\nShe entreated him to be patient, just, and charitable, and, above all,\nnot to wander from the right path. \"Not for my sake,\" added the old\nwoman, \"for I would gladly welcome death, and I regret the wish that\nyou have made, but for your own, my child, that you may return to me\nand that I may not die without your being here to close my eyes.\"\n\nIt was late. Graceful threw himself on the ground, too agitated, it\nseemed, to sleep. But slumber soon overtook him, and he slept soundly\nall night, while his poor grandmother watched the face of her dear\nchild lighted by the flickering lamp, and did not weary of mournfully\nadmiring him.\n\n\nII\n\nEarly in the morning, when dawn was scarcely breaking, the swallow\nbegan to twitter, and Fido to pull the blankets. \"Let us go,\nmaster--let us go,\" said the two companions, in their language, which\nGraceful understood by the gift of the fairies; \"the tide is already\nrising on the beach, the birds are singing, the flies are humming, and\nthe flowers are opening in the sun. Let us go; it is time.\"\n\nGraceful kissed his grandmother for the last time, and took the road\nto P\u00e6stum, Pensive fluttering to the right and the left in pursuit of\nthe flies, and Fido fawning on his young master or running before him.\n\nThey had gone two leagues from the town when Graceful saw Fido talking\nwith the ants, who were marching in regular troops, carrying all their\nprovisions with them.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked he.\n\n\"To the Castle of Life,\" they answered.\n\nA little farther on Pensive encountered the grasshoppers, who had also\nset out on a journey, together with the bees and the butterflies; all\nwere going to the Castle of Life, to drink of the Fountain of\nImmortality. They traveled in company, like people following the same\nroad. Pensive introduced Graceful to a young butterfly that chatted\nagreeably. Friendship springs up quickly in youth; in an hour the two\ncomrades were inseparable.\n\nTo go straight forward does not suit the taste of butterflies, and\nGraceful's friend was constantly losing himself among the grass.\nGraceful, who had never been free in his life, nor had seen so many\nflowers and so much sunshine, followed all the windings of his\ncompanion, and troubled himself no more about the day than if it were\nnever to end; but, after a few leagues' journey his new friend began\nto be weary.\n\n\"Don't go any farther,\" said he to Graceful. \"See how beautiful is\nthis landscape, how fragrant these flowers, and how balmy these\nfields. Let us stay here; this is life.\"\n\n\"Let us go on,\" said Fido; \"the day is long, and we are only at the\nbeginning.\"\n\n\"Let us go on,\" said Pensive; \"the sky is clear and the horizon\nunbounded. Let us go on.\"\n\nGraceful, restored to his senses, reasoned sagely with the butterfly,\nwho fluttered constantly to the right and the left, but all in vain.\n\"What matters it to me?\" said the insect. \"Yesterday I was a\ncaterpillar, to-night I shall be nothing. I will enjoy to-day.\" And he\nsettled on a full-blown P\u00e6stum rose. The perfume was so strong that\nthe poor butterfly was suffocated. Graceful vainly endeavored to\nrecall him to life; then, bemoaning his fate, he fastened him with a\npin to his hat like a cockade.\n\nToward noon the grasshoppers stopped in turn. \"Let us rest,\" said\nthey; \"the heat will overpower us if we struggle against the noonday\nsun. It is so pleasant to live in sweet repose! Come, Graceful, we\nwill divert you and you shall sing with us.\"\n\n\"Listen to them,\" said Pensive; \"they sing so sweetly!\" But Fido would\nnot stop; his blood seemed on fire, and he barked so furiously that\nGraceful forgot the grasshoppers to follow his importunate companion.\n\nAt evening Graceful met the honey-bee loaded with booty. \"Where are\nyou going?\" said he.\n\n\"I am returning home,\" said the bee; \"I shall not quit my hive.\"\n\n\"What!\" rejoined Graceful; \"industrious as you are, will you do like\nthe grasshoppers and renounce your share in immortality?\"\n\n\"Your castle is too far off,\" returned the bee. \"I have not your\nambition. My daily labor suffices for me; I care nothing for your\ntravels; to me work is life.\"\n\nGraceful was a little moved at losing so many of his fellow-travelers\non the first day; but when he thought with what ease he had\naccomplished the first day's journey his heart was filled with joy. He\ncaressed Fido, caught the flies which Pensive took from his hand, and\nslept full of hope, dreaming of his grandmother and the two fairies.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe next morning, at daybreak, Pensive called her young master.\n\n\"Let us go,\" said she; \"the tide is already rising on the shore, the\nbirds are singing, the bees are humming, and the flowers are opening\nin the sun. Let us go; it is time.\"\n\n\"Wait a moment,\" said Fido. \"The day's journey is not long; before\nnoon we shall be in sight of the temples of P\u00e6stum, where we are to\nstop for the night.\"\n\n\"The ants are already on the way,\" returned Pensive; \"the road is\nharder than yesterday, and the weather more uncertain. Let us go.\"\n\nGraceful had seen his grandmother smiling on him in his dreams, and he\nset out on his way with even greater ardor than the day before. The\nmorning was glorious; on the right the blue waves broke with a gentle\nmurmur on the strand; on the left, in the distance, the mountains were\ntinged with a roseate hue; the plain was covered with tall grass\nsprinkled with flowers; the road was lined with aloes, jujubes, and\nacanthuses, and before them lay a cloudless horizon. Graceful,\nravished with hope and pleasure, fancied himself already at the end of\nhis journey. Fido bounded over the fields and chased the frightened\npartridges; Pensive soared in the air and sported with the light. All\nat once Graceful saw a beautiful doe in the midst of the reeds,\nlooking at him with languishing eyes as if she were calling him. He\nwent toward her; she bounded forward, but only a little way. Three\ntimes she repeated the same trick, as if to allure him on.\n\n\"Let us follow her,\" said Fido. \"I will cut off the way and we will\nsoon catch her.\"\n\n\"Where is Pensive?\" said Graceful.\n\n\"What does it matter?\" replied Fido; \"it is the work of an instant.\nTrust to me--I was born for the chase--and the doe is ours.\"\n\nGraceful did not let himself be bid twice. While Fido made a circuit\nhe ran after the doe, which paused among the trees as if to suffer\nherself to be caught, then bounded forward as soon as the hand of the\npursuer touched her. \"Courage, master!\" cried Fido, as he came upon\nher. But with a toss of the head, the doe flung the dog in the air,\nand fled swifter than the wind.\n\nGraceful sprang forward in pursuit. Fido, with burning eyes and\ndistended jaws, ran and yelped as if he were mad. They crossed\nditches, brakes, and hedges, unchecked by nothing. The wearied doe\nlost ground. Graceful redoubled his ardor, and was already stretching\nout his hand to seize his prey when all at once the ground gave way\nbeneath his feet and he fell, with his imprudent companion, into a\npit covered over with leaves. He had not recovered from his fall when\nthe doe, approaching the brink, cried, \"You are betrayed; I am the\nwife of the King of the Wolves, who is coming to eat you both.\" Saying\nthis, she disappeared.\n\n\"Alas! master,\" said Fido, \"the fairy was right in advising you not to\nfollow me. We have acted foolishly and I have destroyed you.\"\n\n\"At all events,\" said Graceful, \"we will defend our lives\"; and,\ntaking his musket, he double-loaded it, in readiness for the King of\nthe Wolves; then, somewhat calmed, he examined the deep ditch into\nwhich he had fallen. It was too high for him to escape from it; in\nthis hole he must await his death. Fido understood the look of his\nfriend.\n\n\"Master,\" said he, \"if you take me in your arms and throw me with all\nyour might, perhaps I can reach the top; and, once there, I can help\nyou.\"\n\nGraceful had not much hope. Three times he endeavored to throw Fido,\nand three times the poor animal fell back; finally, at the fourth\neffort, he caught hold of some roots, and aided himself so well with\nhis teeth and paws that he escaped from the tomb. He instantly threw\ninto the ditch the boughs which he found about the edge.\n\n\"Master,\" said he, \"plant these branches in the earth and make\nyourself a ladder. Quick! quick!\" he added. \"I hear the howls of the\nKing of the Wolves.\"\n\nGraceful was adroit and agile. Anger redoubled his strength; in a\nmoment he was outside. Then he secured his dagger in his belt, changed\nthe powder in the pan of his musket, and, placing himself behind a\ntree, awaited the enemy with firmness.\n\nSuddenly a frightful cry was heard, and an animal, with tusks like\nthose of the wild boar, rushed on him with prodigious bounds. Graceful\ntook aim and fired. The bullet hit the mark and the animal fell back\nhowling, but instantly sprang forward anew. \"Load your musket again!\nMake haste!\" cried Fido, springing courageously in the face of the\nmonster and seizing his throat with his teeth.\n\nThe wolf had only to shake his head to fling the poor dog to the\nground. He would have swallowed him at one mouthful had not Fido\nglided from his jaws, leaving one of his ears behind. It was\nGraceful's turn to save his companion; he boldly advanced and fired\nhis second shot, taking aim at the shoulder. The wolf fell; but,\nrising, with a last effort he threw himself on the hunter, who fell\nunder him. On receiving this terrible shock, Graceful thought himself\nlost; but without losing courage, and calling the good fairies to his\naid, he seized his dagger and thrust it into the heart of the animal,\nwhich, ready to devour his enemy, straightened his limbs and died.\n\nGraceful rose, covered with blood and froth, and seated himself,\ntrembling, upon a fallen tree. Fido crept painfully to his feet,\nwithout daring to caress him, for he felt how much he was to blame.\n\n\"Master,\" said he, \"what will become of us? Night is approaching and\nwe are so far from P\u00e6stum!\"\n\n\"We must go,\" said the child, and he rose; but he was so weak that he\nwas obliged to sit down again. A burning thirst devoured him; he was\nfeverish and everything whirled before his eyes. He thought of his\ngrandmother, and began to weep. What was poor Graceful's remorse for\nhaving so soon forgotten such fair promises, and condemned himself to\ndie in a country from which there was no return, and all this for the\nbright eyes of a doe! How sadly ended the day so well begun!\n\nSinister howls were soon heard; the brothers of the King of the Wolves\nwere calling him and coming to his aid. Graceful embraced Fido, his\nonly friend, and forgave him the imprudence for which they were both\nabout to pay with their lives; then loaded his musket, offered up a\nprayer to the good fairies, commended his grandmother to them, and\nprepared to die.\n\n\"Graceful! Graceful! where are you?\" cried a little voice that could\nbe none other than Pensive's, and the swallow alighted on the head of\nher master.\n\n\"Courage!\" said she; \"the wolves are still far off. There is a spring\nclose by where you can quench your thirst and stanch your bleeding\nwounds, and I have found a hidden path which will lead us to P\u00e6stum.\"\n\nGraceful and Fido dragged themselves along to the brook, trembling\nwith hope and fear; then entered the obscure path, a little reanimated\nby the soft twittering of Pensive. The sun had set; they walked in the\ntwilight for some hours, and, when the moon rose, they were out of\ndanger. They had still to journey over a painful and dangerous road\nfor those who no longer had the ardor of the morning. There were\nmarshes to cross, ditches to leap, and thickets to break through,\nwhich tore Graceful's face and hands; but at the thought that he could\nstill repair his fault and save his grandmother his heart was so light\nthat his strength redoubled at every step with his hope. At last,\nafter a thousand obstacles, they reached P\u00e6stum just as the stars\nmarked midnight.\n\nGraceful threw himself on the pavement of the temple of Neptune, and,\nafter thanking Pensive, fell asleep, with Fido at his feet, wounded,\nbleeding, and silent.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe sleep was not long. Graceful was up before daybreak, which seemed\nlong in coming. On descending the steps of the temple he saw the ants,\nwho had raised a heap of sand and were bringing grain from the new\nharvest. The whole republic was in motion. The ants were all going or\ncoming, talking to their neighbors, and receiving or giving orders;\nsome were dragging wisps of straw, others were carrying bits of wood,\nothers conveying away dead flies, and others heaping up provisions; it\nwas a complete winter establishment.\n\n\"What!\" said Graceful to the ants, \"are you not going to the Castle of\nLife? Do you renounce immortality?\"\n\n\"We have worked long enough,\" answered one of the laborers; \"the time\nfor harvest has come. The road is long and the future uncertain, and\nwe are rich. Let fools count on to-morrow; the wise man uses to-day.\nWhen a person has hoarded riches honestly it is true philosophy to\nenjoy them.\"\n\nFido thought that the ant was right; but, as he no longer dared\nadvise, he contented himself with shaking his head as they set out.\nPensive, on the contrary, said that the ant was a selfish fellow, and\nthat, if life were made only for enjoyment, the butterfly was wiser\nthan he. At the same time, and with a lighter wing than ever, the\nswallow soared upward to lead the way.\n\nGraceful walked on in silence. Ashamed of the follies of the day\nbefore, although he still regretted the doe, he resolved that on the\nthird day nothing should turn him aside from the road. Fido, with his\nmutilated ear, limped after his master and seemed not less dreamy than\nhe. At noon they sought for a shady place in which to rest for a few\nmoments. The sun was less scorching than the day before. It seemed as\nif both country and season had changed. The road lay through meadows\nlately mown for the second time, or beautiful vineyards full of\ngrapes, and was lined with great fig-trees laden with fruit, in which\nthousands of insects were humming; golden clouds were floating in the\nhorizon, the air was soft and gentle, and everything tempted to\nrepose.\n\nIn the most beautiful of the meadows, by the side of a brook which\ndiffused its coolness afar, Graceful saw a herd of buffaloes chewing\nthe cud under the shade of the ashes and plane-trees. They were lazily\nstretched on the ground, in a circle around a large bull that seemed\ntheir chief and king. Graceful approached them, and was received with\npoliteness. They invited him by a nod to be seated, and pointed out to\nhim great bowls full of milk and cheese. Our traveler admired the\ncalmness and gravity of these peaceful and powerful animals, which\nseemed like so many Roman senators in their curule chairs. The gold\nring which they wore in their noses added still more to the majesty of\ntheir aspect. Graceful, who felt calmer and more sedate than the day\nbefore, thought, in spite of himself, how pleasant it would be to live\nin the midst of this peace and plenty; if happiness were anywhere, it\nmust surely be found here.\n\nFido shared his master's opinion. It was the season of the southward\nmigration of the quails; the ground was covered with tired birds,\nresting to regain strength before crossing the sea, and Fido had only\nto stoop down to find game worthy of a prince. Satiated with eating,\nhe stretched himself at Graceful's feet and slept soundly.\n\nWhen the buffaloes had finished chewing their cud, Graceful, who had\nhitherto feared to disturb them, entered into conversation with the\nbull, who showed a cultivated mind and wide experience.\n\n\"Are you the masters of this rich domain?\" asked he.\n\n\"No,\" replied the old buffalo; \"we belong, with all the rest, to the\nFairy Crapaudine, the Queen of the Vermilion Towers, the richest of\nall the fairies.\"\n\n\"What does she require of you?\" asked Graceful.\n\n\"Nothing, except to wear this gold ring in the nose and to pay her a\ntribute of milk,\" returned the bull, \"or, at most, to give her one of\nour children from time to time to regale her guests. At this price we\nenjoy our plenty in perfect security, and we have no reason to envy\nany on earth, for none are so happy as we.\"\n\n\"Have you never heard of the Castle of Life and the Fountain of\nImmortality?\" asked Graceful, who, without knowing why, blushed as he\nput the question.\n\n\"There were some old men among our ancestors who still talked of these\nvisions,\" replied the bull; \"but we are wiser than our fathers; we\nknow that there is no other happiness than to chew the cud and\nsleep.\"\n\nGraceful rose sadly to resume his journey, and asked what were those\nreddish square towers which he saw in the distance.\n\n\"They are the Vermilion Towers,\" returned the bull; \"they bar the way;\nand you must pass through the castle of the Fairy Crapaudine in order\nto continue your road. You will see the fairy, my young friend, and\nshe will offer you hospitality and riches. Take my advice and do like\nthose that have gone before you, all of whom accepted the favors of\nour mistress, and found that they had done well to abandon their\ndreams in order to live happy.\"\n\n\"And what became of them?\" asked Graceful.\n\n\"They became buffaloes like us,\" rejoined the bull, who, not having\nfinished his afternoon nap, closed his eyes and fell asleep.\n\nGraceful started and awakened Fido, who rose, grumbling. He called\nPensive. Pensive did not answer; she was talking with a spider that\nhad spun a great web between the branches of an ash-tree, which was\nglittering in the sun, full of flies. \"Why take this long journey?\"\nsaid the spider to the swallow. \"What is the use of changing your\nclimate and putting your life at the mercy of the sea, the weather, or\na master? Look at me; I depend on nobody, and have everything for\nmyself. I am my own mistress; I enjoy my art and genius; I bring the\nworld to me; nothing can disturb either my calculations, or a\nserenity which I owe to myself alone.\"\n\nGraceful called Pensive three times without making her hear, so\ncompletely was she engrossed in admiration of her new friend. Every\ninstant some giddy fly fell into the web, and each time the spider,\nlike an attentive hostess, offered the prey to her astonished\ncompanion, when suddenly a breeze passed--a breeze so light that it\ndid not ruffle a feather of the swallow's wing. Pensive looked for the\nspider; the web had been swept away by the winds, and the poor insect\nwas clinging by one foot to the last thread, when a bird seized it and\nbore it away.\n\n\nV\n\nSetting out again on their way, they proceeded in silence to the\npalace of Crapaudine. Graceful was introduced with great ceremony by\ntwo beautiful greyhounds, caparisoned with purple and wearing on their\nnecks broad collars sparkling with rubies. After crossing a great\nnumber of halls, all full of pictures, statues, gold, and silver, and\ncoffers overflowing with money and jewels, Graceful and his companions\nentered a circular temple, which was Crapaudine's drawing-room. The\nwalls were of lapis-lazuli, and the ceiling, of sky-blue enamel, was\nsupported by twelve chiseled pillars of massive gold, with capitals of\nacanthus leaves of white enamel edged with gold. A huge frog, as\nlarge as a rabbit, was seated in a velvet easy-chair. It was the fairy\nof the place. The charming Crapaudine was draped in a scarlet mantle\ncovered with glittering spangles, and wore on her head a ruby diadem\nwhose luster lighted up her fat cheeks mottled with green and yellow.\nAs soon as she perceived Graceful she extended to him her fingers,\ncovered with rings, which the poor boy was obliged respectfully to\nraise to his lips as he bowed.\n\n\"My friend,\" said the fairy to him, in a hoarse voice, which she\nvainly tried to soften, \"I was expecting you, and I will not be less\ngenerous to you than my sisters have been. On the way here you have\nseen but a small part of my riches. This palace, with its pictures,\nits statues, and its coffers full of gold, these vast domains, and\nthese innumerable flocks, all may be yours if you wish; it depends\nonly on yourself to become the richest and happiest of men.\"\n\n\"What must I do for this?\" asked Graceful, greatly excited.\n\n\"Less than nothing,\" replied the fairy; \"chop me up into little pieces\nand eat me. It is not a very disagreeable thing to do,\" added\nCrapaudine, looking at Graceful with eyes redder than usual.\n\n\"Can I not season you, at least?\" said Graceful, who had been unable\nto look without envy at the beautiful gardens of the fairy.\n\n\"No, you must eat me without seasoning; but walk about my palace, see\nand handle all my treasures, and reflect that, by giving me this proof\nof devotion, they will all be yours.\"\n\n\"Master,\" sighed Fido, in a supplicating voice, \"a little courage! We\nare so comfortable here!\"\n\nPensive said nothing, but her silence was consent. As to Graceful, who\nremembered the buffaloes and the gold ring, he distrusted the fairy.\nCrapaudine perceived it.\n\n\"Do not think, my dear Graceful, that I wish to deceive you,\" she\nsaid. \"In offering you all that I possess, I also demand of you a\nservice which I will reward as it deserves. When you have done what I\npropose I shall become a young girl, as beautiful as Venus, except\nthat my hands and feet will remain like those of a frog, which is very\nlittle when one is rich. Ten princes, twenty marquises, and thirty\ncounts have already begged me to marry them as I am; when I become a\nwoman, I will give you the preference, and we will enjoy my vast\nfortune together. Do not blush for your poverty; you have about you a\ntreasure that is worth all mine, the vial which my sister gave you.\"\nSaying this, she stretched out her slimy fingers to seize the\ntalisman.\n\n\"Never!\" cried Graceful, shrinking back, \"never! I wish neither repose\nnor fortune; I wish to quit this place and to go to the Castle of\nLife.\"\n\n\"You shall never go there!\" exclaimed the fairy, in a rage. The castle\ninstantly disappeared, a circle of fire surrounded Graceful, and an\ninvisible clock began to strike midnight. At the first stroke the\nchild started; at the second, without hesitating, he plunged headlong\ninto the flames. To die for his grandmother seemed to him the only\nmeans of showing his love and repentance.\n\n\nVI\n\nTo Graceful's surprise, the flames parted without touching him, and he\nsuddenly found himself in a new country, with his two companions by\nhis side. This country was no longer Italy, but Russia, the end of the\nearth. He was wandering on a mountain covered with snow. Around him he\nsaw nothing but great trees, coated with hoar-frost and dripping water\nfrom all their branches; a damp and penetrating mist chilled him to\nthe bones; the moist earth sank under his feet; and, to crown his\nwretchedness, it was necessary to descend a steep precipice, at the\nbottom of which a torrent was breaking noisily over the rocks.\nGraceful took his dagger and cut a branch from a tree to support his\nfaltering steps. Fido, with his tail between his legs, barked feebly;\nand Pensive, her ruffled feathers covered with icicles, clung to her\nmaster's shoulder. The poor bird was half dead, but she encouraged\nGraceful and did not complain.\n\nWhen, after infinite pains, he reached the foot of the mountain,\nGraceful found a river filled with enormous icebergs, striking against\none another and whirling in the current, and this river he must\ncross, without bridge, without boat, and without aid.\n\n\"Master,\" said Fido, \"I can go no farther. Accursed be the fairy that\ndrew me from nothingness to place me in your service.\" Saying this, he\nlay down on the ground and would not stir. Graceful vainly tried to\nrestore his courage, and called him his companion and friend. All that\nthe poor dog could do was to answer his master's caresses for the last\ntime by wagging his tail and licking his hands; then his limbs\nstiffened and he expired.\n\nGraceful took Fido on his back in order to carry him to the Castle of\nLife, and boldly climbed one of the icebergs, still followed by\nPensive. With his staff he pushed this frail bark into the middle of\nthe current, which bore it away with frightful rapidity.\n\n\"Master,\" said Pensive, \"do you hear the roaring of the waters? We are\nfloating toward a whirlpool which will swallow us up! Give me a last\ncaress and farewell!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Graceful. \"Why should the fairies have deceived us? The\nshore may be close by; perhaps the sun is shining behind the clouds.\nMount, mount, my good Pensive; perchance above the fog you will find\nlight and will see the Castle of Life!\"\n\nPensive spread her half-frozen wings, and courageously soared amid the\ncold and mist. Graceful listened for a moment to the sound of her\nflight; then all was silent, while the iceberg pursued its furious\ncourse through the darkness. Graceful waited a long time; at last,\nwhen he felt himself alone, hope abandoned him, and he lay down to\nawait death on the tottering iceberg. Livid flashes of lightning shot\nthrough the clouds, horrible bursts of thunder were heard, and the end\nof the world and of time seemed approaching. All at once, in the midst\nof his despair, Graceful heard the cry of the swallow, and Pensive\nfell at his feet. \"Master, master,\" cried she, \"you were right. I have\nseen the shore; the dawn is close at hand. Courage!\" Saying this, she\nconvulsively spread her tired wings and lay motionless and lifeless.\n\nGraceful started up, placed the poor bird that had sacrificed itself\nfor him next his heart, and, with superhuman ardor, urged the iceberg\non to safety or destruction. Suddenly he heard the roaring of the\nbreakers. He fell on his knees and closed his eyes, awaiting death.\n\nA wave like a mountain broke over his head and cast him fainting on\nthe shore, which no living person had touched before him.\n\n\nVII\n\nWhen Graceful recovered his senses, the ice, clouds, and darkness had\ndisappeared. He was lying on the ground in the midst of a charming\ncountry, covered with trees bathed in a soft light. In front of him\nwas a beautiful castle, from which bubbled a brook that flowed into a\nsea as blue, calm, and transparent as the sky. Graceful looked about\nhim; he was alone--alone with the remains of his two companions, which\nthe waves had washed on the shore. Exhausted with suffering and\nexcitement, he dragged himself to the brook and bent over the water to\nrefresh his parched lips, when he shrank back with affright. It was\nnot his face that he saw in the water, but that of an old man with\nsilvery locks who strongly resembled him. He turned round; there was\nno one behind him. He again drew near the fountain; he saw the old\nman, or rather, doubtless, the old man was himself. \"Great fairies,\"\nhe cried. \"I understand you. If it is my life that you wish in\nexchange for that of my grandmother, I joyfully accept the sacrifice.\"\nAnd without troubling himself further about his old age and wrinkles,\nhe plunged his head into the water and drank eagerly.\n\nOn rising, he was astonished to see himself again as he was when he\nleft home, only more beautiful, with blacker hair and brighter eyes\nthan ever. He picked up his hat, which had fallen near the spring, and\nwhich a drop of water had touched by chance, when what was his\nsurprise to see the butterfly that he had pinned to it fluttering its\nwings and seeking to fly. He gave it its liberty, and ran to the beach\nfor Fido and Pensive, then plunged them both into the blessed\nfountain. Pensive flew upward with a joyful cry and disappeared amid\nthe turrets of the castle. Fido, shaking the water from both ears,\nran to the kennels of the palace, where he was met by magnificent\nwatch-dogs, which, instead of barking and growling at the new-comer,\nwelcomed him joyfully like an old friend. Graceful had at last found\nthe Fountain of Immortality, or rather the brook that flowed from\nit--a brook already greatly weakened, and which only gave two or three\nhundred years of life to those that drank of it; but nothing prevented\nthem from drinking anew.\n\nGraceful filled his vial with this life-giving water and approached\nthe palace. His heart beat, for a last trial remained. So near\nsuccess, he feared the more to fail. He mounted the steps of the\ncastle. All was closed and silent; no one was there to receive the\ntraveler. When he had reached the last step and was about to knock at\nthe door, a voice, rather gentle than harsh, stopped him.\n\n\"Have you loved?\" said the invisible voice.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Graceful; \"I have loved my grandmother better than any\none in the world.\"\n\nThe door opened a little way.\n\n\"Have you suffered for her whom you have loved?\" resumed the voice.\n\n\"I have suffered,\" replied Graceful; \"much through my own fault,\ndoubtless, but a little for her whom I wished to save.\"\n\nThe door opened half-way and the child caught a glimpse of woods,\nwaters, and a sky more beautiful than anything of which he had ever\ndreamed.\n\n\"Have you always done your duty?\" said the voice, in a harsher tone.\n\n\"Alas! no,\" replied Graceful, falling on his knees; \"but when I have\nfailed I have been punished by my remorse even more than by the hard\ntrials through which I have passed. Forgive me, and punish me as I\ndeserve, if I have not yet expiated all my faults; but save her whom I\nlove--save my grandmother.\"\n\nThe door instantly opened wide, though Graceful saw no one.\nIntoxicated with joy, he entered a courtyard surrounded with arbors\nembowered in foliage, with a fountain in the midst, spouting from a\ntuft of flowers larger, more beautiful, and more fragrant than any he\nhad seen on earth. By the side of the spring stood a woman dressed in\nwhite, of noble bearing, and seemingly not more than forty years old.\nShe advanced to meet Graceful, and smiled on him so sweetly that the\nchild felt himself touched to the heart, and his eyes filled with\ntears.\n\n\"Don't you know me?\" said the woman.\n\n\"Oh, grandmother! is it you?\" he exclaimed. \"How came you in the\nCastle of Life?\"\n\n\"My child,\" said she, pressing him to her heart, \"He who brought me\nhere is an enchanter more powerful than the fairies of the woods and\nthe waters. I shall never more return to Salerno. I shall receive my\nreward here for the little good I have done by tasting a happiness\nwhich time will not destroy.\"\n\n\"And me, grandmother!\" cried Graceful, \"what shall become of me? After\nseeing you here, how can I return to suffer alone?\"\n\n\"My dear child,\" she replied, \"no one can live on earth after he has\ncaught a glimpse of the celestial delights of this abode. You have\nlived, my dear Graceful; life has nothing more to teach you. You have\npassed in four days through the desert where I languished eighty\nyears, and henceforth nothing can separate us.\"\n\nThe door closed, and from that time nothing was heard of Graceful or\nhis grandmother. It was in vain that search was made for the palace\nand enchanted fountain; they were never more discovered on earth. But\nif we understood the language of the stars, if we felt what their\ngentle rays tell us every evening, we should long ago have learned\nfrom them where to look for the Castle of Life and the Fountain of\nImmortality.\n\n\n\n\nDestiny\n\n_A Dalmatian Tale_\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two brothers, who lived together in one\nfamily. One did everything, while the other was an idle fellow who\ntroubled himself about nothing but eating and drinking. The harvests\nwere always magnificent; they had cows, horses, sheep, pigs, bees, and\neverything else in plenty.\n\nThe elder brother, who did everything, said to himself, one day, \"Why\nshould I work for this idler? It is better for us to separate; I will\nwork for myself alone, and he can do as he likes.\" He said to his\nbrother, therefore:\n\n\"Brother, it is not just for me to do everything, while you trouble\nyourself about nothing but eating and drinking; we must separate.\"\n\nHis brother tried to dissuade him from his plan, saying:\n\n\"Brother, don't do this, we are so well off as we are. You have\neverything in your own hands; what is mine is yours; and you know that\nI am always satisfied with what you do or order done.\"\n\nThe elder, however, persisted in his resolution till the younger was\nforced to yield. \"Since it must be so,\" said he, \"I am not angry.\nDivide the property as you like.\"\n\nThe division made, each took his share. The idler hired a drover for\nhis cattle, a groom for his horses, a shepherd for his sheep, a\ngoatherd for his goats, a swineherd for his hogs, and a keeper for his\nbees, and said to them all, \"I intrust my property to you. May God\nhave you in His keeping.\" And he continued to stay at home, with no\nmore care than before.\n\nThe elder, on the contrary, labored for himself as he had done for the\ncommon good: he kept his own flocks and had an eye to everything; yet,\nin spite of all this, he found bad luck and misfortune everywhere;\neverything went wrong with him, until at last he was so poor that he\nhad not even a pair of shoes, but was forced to go barefoot. He said\nto himself, \"I will go to my brother's house and see how affairs are\nprospering with him.\"\n\nHis road lay through a pasture in which a flock of sheep was feeding.\nOn approaching them he saw that they had no shepherd. A beautiful\nyoung girl was seated near them, with her distaff, spinning gold\nthread.\n\nHe saluted the young girl and asked her to whom the flock belonged.\n\n\"To him to whom I belong belong also these sheep,\" answered she.\n\n\"And who are you?\" said he.\n\n\"I am your brother's fortune?\" she replied.\n\n\"And where is my fortune?\" he exclaimed, seized with anger and envy.\n\n\"Ah! she is far from you,\" said the young girl.\n\n\"Can I find her?\" asked he.\n\n\"You can,\" she replied, \"if you only look yonder.\"\n\nOn hearing these words, and seeing that the sheep were the finest that\ncould be imagined, he had no wish to see the other flocks, but went\nstraight to his brother, who, as soon as he saw him, burst into tears,\nmoved with pity.\n\n\"Where have you been so long?\" asked he. And, seeing him clothed in\nrags and barefooted, he gave him a pair of shoes and some money.\n\nAfter staying three days in his brother's house, the poor man set out\nfor home. No sooner had he reached his house than he threw a bag\nacross his shoulder, with a piece of bread in it, took a staff in his\nhand, and set out to seek his fortune.\n\nAfter walking for some time he found himself in a great forest, where\nhe saw a wretched old hag asleep under a tree. He gave her a blow on\nthe back with his staff to awaken her. She moved with difficulty, and,\nhalf opening her bleared eyes, said to him, \"Thank God that I was\nasleep, for if I had been awake you would not have had those shoes.\"\n\n\"Who are you, then,\" asked he, \"that would have prevented my having\nthese shoes?\"\n\n\"I am your fortune,\" answered the old woman.\n\n\"What! are you my fortune?\" cried he, striking his breast. \"May God\nexterminate you! Who gave you to me?\"\n\n\"It was Destiny,\" replied the old woman.\n\n\"Where is Destiny?\" he asked.\n\n\"Go and find him,\" said the old woman, lying down to sleep again.\n\nHe set out in search of Destiny. After a long, long journey, at length\nhe reached a wood, where he found a hermit, of whom he asked the way\nto the abode of Destiny.\n\n\"Go straight up yonder mountain and you will find his castle,\"\nanswered the hermit; \"but when you find him take care not to speak to\nhim, but only do all that you see him do.\"\n\nThe traveler thanked the hermit and took his way to the mountain. When\nhe reached the abode of Destiny he saw a magnificent palace full of\nservants constantly bustling about and doing nothing. As to Destiny,\nhe was supping at a table bountifully served. When the stranger saw\nthis he also sat down at the table and supped with the master of the\nhouse. After supper Destiny went to bed, and his guest did the same.\n\nAt midnight a terrible noise was heard in the castle, and a voice\ncried, \"Destiny, Destiny, such a number of souls have come into the\nworld this night; give them something according to thy good pleasure.\"\n\nAnd behold! Destiny rose, and opened a golden chest filled with\nshining guineas, which he scattered by handfuls about the room,\nsaying, \"Such as I am to-day, such shalt thou be all thy life!\"\n\nAt daybreak the beautiful castle had vanished, and in its place stood\nan ordinary house, in which, however, nothing was wanting. When\nevening came Destiny sat down to supper. His guest did the same, but\nno one spoke a word. Supper over, they went to bed. At midnight a\nterrible noise was heard, and a voice cried, \"Destiny, Destiny, such a\nnumber of souls have come into the world this night; give them\nsomething according to thy good pleasure.\"\n\nAnd behold! Destiny rose, and opened a silver chest, but this time\nthere were no guineas in it, but only silver coin, with a few small\npieces of gold, which Destiny scattered on the floor, saying, \"Such as\nI am to-day, such shalt thou be all thy life!\"\n\nAt daybreak this house had also disappeared, and a smaller one stood\nin its place. The same thing happened every night, and every morning\nthe house was smaller, until finally there was nothing but a wretched\nhut. Destiny now took a spade and began to dig the ground. His guest\ndid the same, and both worked all day. When night came, Destiny took\na crust of bread and, breaking it in two, gave half to his companion.\nThis was all his supper. When they had eaten it they went to bed.\n\nAt midnight a terrible noise was heard, and a voice cried out,\n\"Destiny, Destiny, such a number of souls have come into the world\nthis night; give them something according to thy good pleasure.\"\n\nAnd behold! Destiny rose, and opened a wooden chest filled with\npebbles mixed with a few copper coins, which he scattered on the\nground, saying, \"Such as I am to-day, such shalt thou be all thy\nlife!\"\n\nWhen morning dawned the cabin was changed into a splendid palace, as\non the first day. Then, for the first time, Destiny spoke to his\nguest. \"Why did you come here?\" asked he.\n\nThe poor man told him the whole story of his wretchedness, and how he\nhad come to ask Destiny himself why he had given him such a bad\nfortune.\n\n\"You saw what I was the first night, when I scattered guineas, and\nwhat followed,\" replied Destiny. \"Such as I am on the night that a man\nis born, such will that man be all his life. You were born on a night\nof poverty; you will always be poor. Your brother, on the contrary,\ncame into the world on a lucky night; he will always be fortunate.\nBut, since you have taken so much trouble to find me, I will tell you\nhow to help yourself. Your brother has a daughter by the name of\nMiliza, who is as fortunate as her father. Take her for your wife when\nyou return home, but be careful always to say that all that you have\nbelongs to her.\"\n\nThe poor man thanked Destiny again and again, and set out for home. As\nsoon as he arrived he went straight to his brother's house and said,\n\n\"Brother, give me Miliza for a wife; you see that I am all alone in\nthe world.\"\n\n\"I am willing,\" answered his brother; \"Miliza is yours.\"\n\nThe bridegroom carried Miliza to his house. He soon became very rich,\nbut he always took good care to say, \"All that I have belongs to\nMiliza.\"\n\nOne day, however, as he was admiring his wheat, which was the most\nbeautiful that ever was seen, a stranger passed by and asked, \"Whose\nwheat is this?\"\n\n\"It is mine,\" answered he, without thinking. But scarcely had he\nspoken when, behold! the wheat took fire, and the flames spread all\nover the field. Without stopping to put it out, he ran after the\ntraveler, crying, \"Stop, sir, I was mistaken; it belongs to Miliza, my\nbrother's daughter.\"\n\nThe fire went out at once of its own accord. He had learned a good\nlesson which he never forgot, and from that time thenceforth he was\nfortunate, thanks to Miliza.\n\n\n\n\nThe Twelve Months\n\n_A Bohemian Tale_\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nThere was once a woman who was left a widow with two children. The\nelder, who was only her stepdaughter, was named Dobrunka; the younger,\nwho was as wicked as her mother, was called Katinka. The mother\nworshiped her daughter, but she hated Dobrunka, simply because she was\nas beautiful as her sister was ugly. Dobrunka did not even know that\nshe was pretty, and she could not understand why her stepmother flew\ninto a rage at the mere sight of her. The poor child was obliged to do\nall the work of the house; she had to sweep, cook, wash, sew, spin,\nweave, cut the grass, and take care of the cow, while Katinka lived\nlike a princess--that is to say, did nothing.\n\nDobrunka worked with a good will, and took reproaches and blows with\nthe gentleness of a lamb; but nothing soothed her stepmother, for\nevery day added to the beauty of the elder sister and the ugliness of\nthe younger. \"They are growing up,\" thought the mother, \"and suitors\nwill soon appear, who will refuse my daughter when they see this\nhateful Dobrunka, who grows beautiful on purpose to spite me. I must\nget rid of her, cost what it may.\"\n\nOne day in the middle of January, Katinka took a fancy for some\nviolets. She called Dobrunka and said, \"Go to the forest and bring me\na bunch of violets, that I may put them in my bosom and enjoy their\nfragrance.\"\n\n\"Oh, sister, what an idea!\" answered Dobrunka; \"as if there were any\nviolets under the snow!\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue, stupid fool,\" returned her sister, \"and do as I bid\nyou. If you do not go to the forest and bring me back a bunch of\nviolets I will beat you to a jelly.\" Upon this the mother took\nDobrunka by the arm, put her out of the door, and drew the bolt on\nher.\n\nThe poor girl went to the forest weeping bitterly. Everything was\ncovered with snow; there was not even a footpath. She lost her way and\nwandered about till, famishing with hunger and perishing with cold,\nshe entreated God to take her from this wretched life.\n\nAll at once she saw a light in the distance. She went on, climbing\nhigher and higher, until at last she reached the top of a huge rock,\nupon which a great fire was built. Around the fire were twelve stones,\nand on each stone sat a motionless figure, wrapped in a large mantle,\nhis head covered with a hood which fell over his eyes. Three of these\nmantles were white like the snow, three were green like the grass of\nthe meadows, three were golden like the sheaves of ripe wheat, and\nthree were purple like the grapes of the vine. These twelve figures,\ngazing at the fire in silence, were the Twelve Months of the year.\n\nDobrunka knew January by his long white beard. He was the only one\nthat had a staff in his hand. The poor girl was terribly frightened.\nShe drew near, saying, in a timid voice, \"My good sirs, please to let\nme warm myself by your fire; I am freezing with cold.\"\n\nJanuary nodded his head. \"Why have you come here, my child?\" he asked.\n\"What are you looking for?\"\n\n\"I am looking for violets,\" replied Dobrunka.\n\n\"This is not the season for them; there are no violets in the time of\nsnow,\" said January, in his gruff voice.\n\n\"I know it,\" replied Dobrunka, sadly; \"but my sister and mother will\nbeat me to a jelly if I do not bring them some. My good sirs, please\nto tell me where I can find them.\"\n\nOld January rose, and, turning to a young man in a green mantle, put\nhis staff in his hand, and said to him, \"Brother March, this is your\nbusiness.\"\n\nMarch rose in turn, and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold!\nthe flames rose, the snow melted, the buds put forth on the trees, the\ngrass turned green under the bushes, the flowers peeped through the\nverdure, and the violets opened--it was spring.\n\n\"Make haste, my child, and gather your violets,\" said March.\n\n[Illustration: PRETTY DOBRUNKA WAS OBLIGED TO DO ALL THE WORK OF THE\nHOUSE]\n\nDobrunka gathered a large bouquet, thanked the Twelve Months, and\njoyfully ran home. You can imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the\nstepmother. The fragrance of the violets filled the whole house.\n\n\"Where did you find these fine things?\" asked Katinka, in a disdainful\nvoice.\n\n\"Up yonder, on the mountain,\" answered her sister. \"It looked like a\ngreat blue carpet under the bushes.\"\n\nKatinka put the bouquet in her bosom and did not even thank the poor\nchild.\n\nThe next morning the wicked sister, as she sat idling by the stove,\ntook a fancy for some strawberries.\n\n\"Go to the forest and bring me some strawberries,\" said she to\nDobrunka.\n\n\"Oh, sister, what an idea! as if there were any strawberries under the\nsnow!\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue, stupid fool, and do as I bid you. If you don't go\nto the forest and bring me back a basket of strawberries, I will beat\nyou to a jelly.\"\n\nThe mother took Dobrunka by the arm, put her out of the door, and drew\nthe bolt on her.\n\nThe poor girl returned to the forest, looking with all her eyes for\nthe light that she had seen the day before. She was fortunate enough\nto spy it, and she reached the fire trembling and almost frozen.\n\nThe Twelve Months were in their places, motionless and silent.\n\n\"My good sirs,\" said Dobrunka, \"please to let me warm myself by your\nfire; I am almost frozen with cold.\"\n\n\"Why have you returned?\" asked January. \"What are you looking for?\"\n\n\"I am looking for strawberries,\" answered she.\n\n\"This is not the season for them,\" returned January, in his gruff\nvoice; \"there are no strawberries under the snow.\"\n\n\"I know it,\" replied Dobrunka, sadly; \"but my mother and sister will\nbeat me to a jelly if I do not bring them some. My good sirs, please\nto tell me where I can find them.\"\n\nOld January rose and, turning to a man in a golden mantle, he put his\nstaff in his hand, saying, \"Brother June, this is your business.\"\n\nJune rose in turn, and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold!\nthe flames rose, the snow melted, the earth grew green, the trees were\ncovered with leaves, the birds sang and the flowers opened--it was\nsummer. Thousands of little white stars enameled the turf, then turned\nto red strawberries, looking, in their green cups, like rubies set in\nemeralds.\n\n\"Make haste, my child, and gather your strawberries,\" said June.\n\nDobrunka filled her apron, thanked the Twelve Months, and joyfully\nran home. You may imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the\nstepmother. The fragrance of the strawberries filled the whole house.\n\n\"Where did you find these things?\" asked Katinka, in a disdainful\nvoice.\n\n\"Up yonder on the mountain,\" answered her sister; \"there were so many\nof them that they looked like blood poured on the ground.\"\n\nKatinka and her mother devoured the strawberries without even thanking\nthe poor child.\n\nThe third day the wicked sister took a fancy for some red apples. The\nsame threats, the same insults, and the same violence followed.\nDobrunka ran to the mountain, and was fortunate enough to find the\nTwelve Months warming themselves, motionless and silent.\n\n\"You here again, my child?\" said old January, making room for her by\nthe fire. Dobrunka told him, with tears, how, if she did not bring\nhome some red apples, her mother and sister would beat her to death.\n\nOld January repeated the ceremonies of the day before. \"Brother\nSeptember,\" said he to a gray-bearded man in a purple mantle, \"this is\nyour business.\"\n\nSeptember rose and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold! the\nflames ascended, the snow melted, and the trees put forth a few yellow\nleaves, which fell one by one before the wind--it was autumn. The only\nflowers were a few late pinks, daisies, and immortelles. Dobrunka saw\nbut one thing, an apple-tree with its rosy fruit.\n\n\"Make haste, my child; shake the tree,\" said September.\n\nShe shook it, and an apple fell; she shook it again, and a second\napple followed.\n\n\"Make haste, Dobrunka, make haste home!\" cried September, in an\nimperious voice.\n\nThe good child thanked the Twelve Months, and joyfully ran home. You\nmay imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the stepmother.\n\n\"Red apples in January! Where did you get these apples?\" asked\nKatinka.\n\n\"Up yonder on the mountain; there is a tree there that is as red with\nthem as a cherry-tree in July.\"\n\n\"Why did you bring only two? You ate the rest on the way.\"\n\n\"Oh, sister, I did not touch them; I was only permitted to shake the\ntree twice, and but two apples fell.\"\n\n\"Begone, you fool!\" cried Katinka, striking her sister, who ran away\ncrying.\n\nThe wicked girl tasted one of the apples; she had never eaten anything\nso delicious in her life, neither had her mother. How they regretted\nnot having any more!\n\n[Illustration: TURNED OUT BY HER MOTHER, DOBRUNKA WENT UNHAPPILY INTO\nTHE FOREST]\n\n\"Mother,\" said Katinka, \"give me my fur cloak. I will go to the forest\nand find the tree, and whether I am permitted or not I will shake\nit so hard that all the apples will be ours.\"\n\nThe mother tried to stop her. A spoiled child listens to nothing.\nKatinka wrapped herself in her fur cloak, drew the hood over her head,\nand hastened to the forest.\n\nEverything was covered with snow; there was not even a footpath.\nKatinka lost her way, but she pushed on, spurred by pride and\ncovetousness. She spied a light in the distance. She climbed and\nclimbed till she reached the place, and found the Twelve Months each\nseated on his stone, motionless and silent. Without asking their\npermission, she approached the fire.\n\n\"Why have you come here? What do you want? Where are you going?\" asked\nold January, gruffly.\n\n\"What matters it to you, old fool?\" answered Katinka. \"It is none of\nyour business where I came from or whither I am going.\" She plunged\ninto the forest. January frowned and raised his staff above his head.\nIn the twinkling of an eye the sky was overcast, the fire went out,\nthe snow fell, and the wind blew. Katinka could not see the way before\nher. She lost herself, and vainly tried to retrace her steps. The snow\nfell and the wind blew. She called her mother, she cursed her sister,\nshe cursed God. The snow fell and the wind blew. Katinka froze, her\nlimbs stiffened, and she fell motionless. The snow still fell and the\nwind still blew.\n\nThe mother went without ceasing from the window to the door, and from\nthe door to the window. The hours passed and Katinka did not return.\n\n\"I must go and look for my daughter,\" said she. \"The child has\nforgotten herself with those hateful apples.\" She took her fur cloak\nand hood, and hastened to the mountain. Everything was covered with\nsnow; there was not even a footpath. She plunged into the forest,\ncalling her daughter. The snow fell and the wind blew. She walked on\nwith feverish anxiety, shouting at the top of her voice. The snow\nstill fell and the wind still blew.\n\nDobrunka waited through the evening and the night, but no one\nreturned. In the morning she took her wheel and spun a whole distaff\nfull; there was still no news. \"What can have happened?\" said the\ngirl, weeping. The sun was shining through an icy mist and the ground\nwas covered with snow. Dobrunka prayed for her mother and sister. They\ndid not return; and it was not till spring that a shepherd found the\ntwo corpses in the forest.\n\nDobrunka remained the sole mistress of the house, the cow, and the\ngarden, to say nothing of a piece of meadow adjoining the house. But\nwhen a good and pretty girl has a field under her window, the next\nthing that follows is a young farmer who offers her his heart and\nhand. Dobrunka was soon married. The Twelve Months did not abandon\ntheir child. More than once, when the north wind blew fearfully and\nthe windows shook in their frames, old January stopped up all the\ncrevices of the house with snow, so that the cold might not enter this\npeaceful abode.\n\nDobrunka lived to a good old age, always virtuous and happy, having,\naccording to the proverb, winter at the door, summer in the barn,\nautumn in the cellar, and spring in the heart.\n\n\n\n\nSwanda the Piper\n\n_A Bohemian Tale_\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nSwanda, the Piper, was a jolly companion. Like every true musician, he\nwas born with an unquenchable thirst; besides, he was madly fond of\nplay, and would have risked his soul at strajak, the favorite game at\ncards in Bohemia. When he had earned a little money he would throw\naside his pipes, and drink and play with the first comer till he\nreturned to his home as light in pocket as when he had left it. But he\nwas always so merry, witty, and good-natured that not a drinker ever\nleft the table while the piper was there, and his name still lives in\nBohemia as the prince of good fellows.\n\nOne day there was a festival at Mokran, and no merry-making was ever\ncomplete without the piper. Swanda, after blowing his pipe till\nmidnight and earning twenty zwanzigers, determined to amuse himself on\nhis own account. Neither prayers nor promises could persuade him to\ngo on with his music; he was determined to drink his fill and to\nshuffle the cards at his ease; but, for the first time in his life, he\nfound no one to play with him.\n\nSwanda was not the man to quit the inn so long as he had a kreutzer in\nhis pocket, and on that day he had many of them. By dint of talking,\nlaughing, and drinking he took one of those fixed ideas which are not\nuncommon among those who look too often in the bottom of their glass,\nand determined to play at any price; but all his neighbors refused his\nchallenge. Furious at finding no partner, he rose with an unsteady\nstep, paid for what he had drank, and left the inn.\n\n\"I will go to Drazic,\" said he; \"the schoolmaster and the bailiff\nthere are honest people who are not afraid of play, and I shall find\npartners. Hurrah!\"\n\nThe night was clear and the moon shone like a fish's eye. On reaching\na cross-road Swanda raised his eyes by chance, and stopped, mute and\nmotionless. A flock of ravens were croaking over his head, and in\nfront of him rose four posts, standing like pillars, and connected at\nthe top by cross-beams, from each of which swung a half-devoured\ncorpse. It was a robbers' gallows, a spectacle by no means amusing to\na less stoical spirit than that of Swanda.\n\nHe had not recovered from the first shudder when suddenly there\nappeared before him a man dressed in black, with pale and hollow\ncheeks, and eyes that glittered like carbuncles.\n\n\"Where are you going so late, friend Piper?\" asked he, in a soft\nvoice.\n\n\"To Drazic, Mr. Black Coat,\" answered the intrepid Swanda.\n\n\"Would you like to earn something by your music?\"\n\n\"I am tired of blowing,\" returned Swanda. \"I have some silver in my\npocket, and wish to amuse myself.\"\n\n\"Who talks to you of silver? It is with gold that we pay.\"\n\nSaying this, the stranger flashed before his eyes a handful of shining\nducats. The piper was the son of a thrifty mother; he knew not how to\nresist such an invitation, and followed the black man and his gold.\n\nHow the time passed he never could remember. It is true that his head\nwas a little heavy. The only thing that he recollected was that the\nblack man warned him to accept whatever was offered him, whether gold\nor wine, but never to return thanks except by saying \"Good luck,\nbrother!\"\n\nWithout knowing how he had entered, he found himself in a dark room\nwhere three men, dressed in black like his guide, were playing at\nstrajak by no other light than their glittering eyes. On the table\nwere piles of gold, and a jug from which each one drank in his turn.\n\n\"Brothers,\" said the black man, \"I bring you friend Swanda, whom you\nhave long known by reputation. I thought to please you on this\nfeast-day by giving you a little music.\"\n\n\"A good idea!\" said one of the players. Then, taking the jug, he\nhanded it to Swanda, saying, \"Here, piper, drink and play.\"\n\nSwanda had some scruples; but, after all, it is impossible to have\ncharcoal without putting your finger into the ashes. The wine, though\nrather warm, was not bad. He replaced the jug on the table, and\nraising his hat, said, \"Good luck, brother!\" as he had been advised.\n\nHe began to play, and never had his music produced such an effect.\nEach note made the players leap for joy. Their eyes shot forth flames;\nthey moved about uneasily in their chairs; they staked the ducats by\nhandfuls; they shouted and burst into loud fits of laughter without\nstirring a muscle of their pallid faces. The jug passed from hand to\nhand, always full, though replenished by no one.\n\nAs soon as Swanda finished an air they handed him the jug, from which\nhe never failed to drink deeply, and threw handfuls of gold into his\nhat. \"Good luck, brother!\" he repeated, astounded at his\nfortune--\"good luck!\"\n\nThe feast lasted a long time. At last, the piper having struck up a\npolka, the black men, in a transport of mirth, quitted the table and\ndanced and waltzed with an ardor and frenzy which ill accorded with\ntheir icy faces. One of the dancers gathered up all the gold that was\nheaped on the table, and, pouring it into Swanda's hat, \"Here,\" said\nhe, \"take this for the pleasure that you have given us.\"\n\n\"God bless you, my good lords!\" said the dazzled piper. Scarcely had\nhe spoken when men, room, and cards vanished.\n\nIn the morning a peasant on his way to the fields heard the sound of a\npipe as he approached the cross-road. \"It is Swanda,\" said he. But\nwhere was the piper? Seated on a corner of the gallows, he was blowing\nwith all his might, while the corpses of the robbers danced in the\nwind to his music.\n\n\"Halloo, comrade!\" cried the peasant. \"How long have you been playing\nthe cuckoo up there?\"\n\nSwanda started, dropped his pipe, opened his eyes, and glided,\nbewildered, down the gallows. His first thought, however, was for his\nducats. He rummaged his pockets and turned his hat inside out, but all\nin vain; there was not even a kreutzer!\n\n\"My friend,\" said the peasant, making the sign of the cross, \"God has\npunished you by giving you the devil for a partner; you love cards too\nwell.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" said Swanda, trembling; \"I will never touch them\nagain in my life.\"\n\n[Illustration: HE BEGAN TO PLAY AND NEVER HAD HIS MUSIC PRODUCED SUCH\nAN EFFECT.]\n\nHe kept his word; and, to thank Heaven for having preserved him\nfrom such peril, he took the fatal pipe to which the devil had danced,\nand suspended it as a votive offering in the church of Strakonic, his\nbirthplace, where it may be seen to this day. The pipe of Strakonic\nhas become a proverb, and it is even said that its sound is heard\nevery year at the day and hour when Swanda played for Satan and his\nfriends.\n\n\n\n\n_The_ Gold Bread\n\n_A Hungarian Tale_\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a widow who had a beautiful daughter. The\nmother was modest and humble; the daughter, Marienka, was pride\nitself. She had suitors from all sides, but none satisfied her; the\nmore they tried to please her the more she disdained them.\n\nOne night, when the poor mother could not sleep, she took her beads\nand began to pray for her dear child, who gave her more than one care.\nMarienka was asleep by her side. As the mother gazed lovingly at her\nbeautiful daughter, Marienka laughed in her sleep.\n\n\"What a beautiful dream she must have to laugh in this way!\" said the\nmother. Then she finished her prayer, hung her beads on the wall, laid\nher head on the same pillow with her daughter, and fell asleep.\n\n\"My dear child,\" said she in the morning, \"what did you dream last\nnight that you laughed so?\"\n\n\"What did I dream, mamma? I dreamed that a nobleman came here for me\nin a copper coach, and that he put a ring on my finger set with a\nstone that sparkled like the stars. And when I entered the church the\npeople had eyes for no one but the blessed Virgin and me.\"\n\n\"My daughter, my daughter, that was a proud dream!\" said the mother,\nshaking her head. But Marienka went out singing.\n\nThe same day a wagon entered the yard. A handsome young farmer in good\ncircumstances came to ask Marienka to share a peasant's bread with\nhim. The mother was pleased with the suitor, but the proud Marienka\nrefused him, saying, \"Though you should come in a copper coach, and\nput a ring on my finger set with a stone that sparkled like the stars,\nI would not have you for a husband.\" And the farmer went away storming\nat Marienka's pride.\n\nThe next night the mother waked, took her beads, and prayed still more\nearnestly for her daughter, when, behold! Marienka laughed again as\nshe was sleeping.\n\n\"I wonder what she is dreaming,\" said the mother, who prayed, unable\nto sleep.\n\n\"My dear child,\" she said the next morning, \"what did you dream last\nnight that you laughed aloud?\"\n\n\"What did I dream, mamma? I dreamed that a nobleman came here for me\nin a silver coach, and that he offered me a golden diadem. And when I\nentered the church the people looked at me more than they did at the\nblessed Virgin.\"\n\n\"Hush! you are blaspheming. Pray, my daughter, pray that you may not\nfall into temptation.\"\n\nBut Marienka ran away to escape her mother's sermon.\n\nThe same day a carriage entered the yard. A young lord came to entreat\nMarienka to share a nobleman's bread with him.\n\n\"It is a great honor,\" said the mother; but vanity is blind.\n\n\"Though you should come in a silver coach,\" said Marienka to the new\nsuitor, \"and should offer me a golden diadem, I would not have you for\na husband.\"\n\n\"Take care, my child,\" said the poor mother; \"pride is a device of the\nEvil One.\"\n\n\"Mothers never know what they are saying,\" thought Marienka, and she\nwent out shrugging her shoulders.\n\nThe third night the mother could not sleep for anxiety. As she lay\nawake, praying for her daughter, behold! Marienka burst into a loud\nfit of laughter.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the mother, \"what can the unhappy child be dreaming now?\"\nAnd she continued to pray till daylight.\n\n\"My dear child,\" said she in the morning, \"what did you dream last\nnight?\"\n\n\"You will be angry again if I tell you,\" answered Marienka.\n\n\"No, no,\" replied the mother. \"Tell me.\"\n\n\"I dreamed that a noble lord, with a great train of attendants, came\nto ask me in marriage. He was in a golden coach, and he brought me a\ndress of gold lace. And when I entered the church, the people looked\nat nobody but me.\"\n\nThe mother clasped her hands. Marienka, half dressed, sprang from the\nbed and ran into the next room, to avoid a lecture that was tiresome\nto her.\n\nThe same day three coaches entered the yard, one of copper, one of\nsilver, and one of gold; the first drawn by two horses, the second by\nfour, and the third by eight, all caparisoned with gold and pearls.\nFrom the copper and silver coaches alighted pages dressed in scarlet\nbreeches and green jackets and cloaks, while from the golden coach\nstepped a handsome nobleman all dressed in gold. He entered the house,\nand, bending one knee on the ground, asked the mother for her\ndaughter's hand.\n\n\"What an honor!\" thought the mother.\n\n\"My dream has come to pass,\" said Marienka. \"You see, mother, that, as\nusual, I was right and you were wrong.\"\n\nShe ran to her chamber, tied the betrothal knot, and offered it\nsmilingly as a pledge of her faith to the handsome lord, who, on his\nside, put a ring on her finger set with a stone that sparkled like the\nstars, and presented her with a golden diadem and a dress of gold\nlace.\n\nThe proud girl ran to her room to dress for the ceremony, while the\nmother, still anxious, said to the bridegroom, \"My good sir, what\nbread do you offer my daughter?\"\n\n\"Among us,\" said he, \"the bread is of copper, silver, and gold. She\ncan take her choice.\"\n\n\"What does this mean?\" thought the mother. But Marienka had no\nanxiety; she returned as beautiful as the sun, took her lover's arm,\nand set out for the church without asking her mother's blessing. The\npoor woman was left to pray alone on the threshold; and when Marienka\nreturned and entered the carriage she did not even turn round to look\nat her mother or to bid her a last farewell.\n\nThe eight horses set off at a gallop, and did not stop till they\nreached a huge rock in which there was a hole as large as the gate of\na city. The horses plunged into the darkness, the earth trembled, and\nthe rock cracked and crumbled. Marienka seized her husband's hand.\n\n\"Don't be alarmed, my fair one; in a moment it will be light.\"\n\nAll at once a thousand lights waved in the air. The dwarfs of the\nmountain, each with a torch in his hand, came to salute their lord,\nthe King of the Mines. Marienka learned for the first time her\nhusband's name. Whether he was a spirit of good or of evil, at least\nhe was so rich that she did not regret her choice.\n\n[Illustration: AS THE MOTHER GAZED LOVINGLY AT HER BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER,\nMARIENKA LAUGHED IN HER SLEEP]\n\nThey emerged from the darkness, and advanced through bleached\nforests and mountains that raised their pale and gloomy summits to the\nskies. Firs, beeches, birches, oaks, rocks, all were of lead. At the\nend of the forest stretched a vast meadow the grass of which was of\nsilver; and at the bottom of the meadow was a castle of gold, inlaid\nwith diamonds and rubies. The carriage stopped before the door, and\nthe King of the Mines offered his hand to his bride, saying, \"My fair\none, all that you see is yours.\"\n\nMarienka was delighted. But it is impossible to make so long a journey\nwithout being hungry; and it was with pleasure, therefore, that she\nsaw the mountain dwarfs bring in a table, everything on which\nglittered with gold, silver, and precious stones. The dishes were\nmarvelous--side-dishes of emeralds, and roasts of gold on silver\nsalvers. Every one ate heartily except the bride, who begged her\nhusband for a little bread.\n\n\"Bring the copper bread,\" said the King of the Mines.\n\nMarienka could not eat it.\n\n\"Bring the silver bread,\" said he.\n\nMarienka could not eat it.\n\n\"Bring the gold bread,\" said he, at length.\n\nMarienka could not eat it.\n\n\"My fair one,\" said the King of the Mines, \"I am very sorry; but what\ncan I offer you? We have no other bread.\"\n\nThe bride burst into tears. Her husband laughed aloud; his heart was\nof metal, like his kingdom.\n\n\"Weep, if you like,\" he cried; \"it will do you no good. What you\nwished for you possess. Eat the bread that you have chosen.\"\n\nIt was thus that the rich Marienka lived in her castle, dying of\nhunger, and seeking in vain for a root to allay the torture that was\nconsuming her. God had humbled her by granting her prayer.\n\nThree days in the year, the Rogation Days, when the ground half opens\nto receive the fruitful rain sent by the Lord, Marienka returns to the\nearth. Dressed in rags, pale and wrinkled, she begs from door to door,\ntoo happy when any one throws her a few crusts, and when she receives\nas alms from the poor what she lacks in her palace of gold--a little\nbread and a little pity.\n\n\n\n\nThe Story _of the Noses_\n\n_A Bohemian Tale_\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nAt Dewitz, in the neighborhood of Prague, there once lived a rich and\nwhimsical old farmer who had a beautiful daughter. The students of\nPrague, of whom there were at that time twenty-five thousand, often\nwalked in the direction of Dewitz, and more than one of them offered\nto follow the plow in hopes of becoming the son-in-law of the farmer.\nThe first condition that the cunning peasant set on each new servant\nwas this: \"I engage you,\" he would say, \"for a year--that is, till the\ncuckoo sings the return of spring; but if, from now till then, you say\nonce that you are not satisfied, I will cut off the end of your nose.\nI give you the same right over me,\" he added, laughing. And he did as\nhe said. Prague was full of students with the ends of their noses\nglued on, which did not prevent an ugly scar, and, still less, bad\njokes. To return from the farm disfigured and ridiculed was well\ncalculated to cool the warmest passion.\n\nA young man by the name of Coranda, somewhat ungainly in manner, but\ncool, adroit, and cunning, which are not bad aids in making one's\nfortune, took it in his head to try the adventure. The farmer received\nhim with his usual good nature, and, the bargain made, sent him to the\nfield to work. At breakfast-time the other servants were called, but\ngood care was taken to forget Coranda. At dinner it was the same.\nCoranda gave himself no trouble about it. He went to the house, and\nwhile the farmer's wife was feeding the chickens unhooked an enormous\nham from the kitchen rafters, took a huge loaf from the cupboard, and\nwent back to the fields to dine and take a nap.\n\n\"Are you satisfied?\" cried the farmer, when he returned at night.\n\n\"Perfectly satisfied,\" said Coranda; \"I have dined better than you\nhave.\"\n\nAt that instant the farmer's wife came rushing in, crying that her ham\nwas gone. Coranda laughed, and the farmer turned pale.\n\n\"Are you not satisfied?\" asked Coranda.\n\n\"A ham is only a ham,\" answered his master. \"Such a trifle does not\ntrouble me.\" But after that time he took good care not to leave the\nstudent fasting.\n\nSunday came. The farmer and his wife seated themselves in the wagon to\ngo to church, saying to Coranda, \"It is your business to cook the\ndinner. Cut up the piece of meat you see yonder, with onions, carrots,\nleeks, and parsley, and boil them all together in the great pot over\nthe kitchen fire.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered Coranda.\n\nThere was a little pet dog at the farm-house by the name of Parsley.\nCoranda killed him, skinned him, cut him up with the meat and\nvegetables, and put the whole to boil over the kitchen fire. When the\nfarmer's wife returned she called her favorite; but, alas! she saw\nnothing but a bloody skin hanging by the window.\n\n\"What have you done?\" said she to Coranda.\n\n\"What you ordered me, mistress. I have boiled the meat, onions,\ncarrots, and leeks, and parsley in the bargain.\"\n\n\"Wicked wretch!\" cried the farmer, \"had you the heart to kill the\ninnocent creature that was the joy of the house?\"\n\n\"Are you not satisfied?\" said Coranda, taking his knife from his\npocket.\n\n\"I did not say that,\" returned the farmer. \"A dead dog is nothing but\na dead dog.\" But he sighed.\n\nA few days after, the farmer and his wife went to market. Fearing\ntheir terrible servant, they said to him, \"Stay at home and do exactly\nwhat you see others do.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Coranda.\n\nThere was an old shed in the yard the roof of which was falling to\npieces. The carpenters came to repair it, and began, as usual, by\ntearing down the roof. Coranda took a ladder and mounted the roof of\nthe house, which was quite new. Shingles, lath, nails, and tiles, he\ntore off everything, and scattered them all to the winds. When the\nfarmer returned the house was open to the sky.\n\n\"Villain!\" said he, \"what new trick have you played me?\"\n\n\"I have obeyed you, master,\" answered Coranda. \"You told me to do\nexactly what I saw others do. Are you not satisfied?\" And he took out\nhis knife.\n\n\"Satisfied!\" returned the farmer; \"why should I not be satisfied? A\nfew shingles more or less will not ruin me.\" But he sighed.\n\nNight came, the farmer and his wife said to each other that it was\nhigh time to get rid of this incarnate demon. As is always the case\nwith sensible people, they never did anything without consulting their\ndaughter, it being the custom in Bohemia to think that children always\nhave more wit than their parents.\n\n\"Father,\" said Helen, \"I will hide in the great pear-tree early in the\nmorning, and call like the cuckoo. You can tell Coranda that the year\nis up, since the cuckoo is singing; pay him and send him away.\"\n\nEarly in the morning the plaintive cry of the cuckoo was heard through\nthe fields. The farmer seemed surprised. \"Well, my boy, spring is\ncome,\" said he. \"Do you hear the cuckoo singing yonder? I will pay you\nand we will part good friends.\"\n\n[Illustration: HE RAN TO THE TREE AND SHOOK IT WITH ALL HIS MIGHT,\nWHEN, BEHOLD! A YOUNG GIRL FELL FROM THE BRANCHES]\n\n\"A cuckoo!\" said Coranda; \"that is a bird which I have always wanted\nto see.\"\n\nHe ran to the tree and shook it with all his might, when, behold! a\nyoung girl fell from the branches, fortunately more frightened than\nhurt.\n\n\"Villain!\" cried the farmer.\n\n\"Are you not satisfied?\" said Coranda, opening his knife.\n\n\"Wretch! you kill my daughter and you think that I ought to be\nsatisfied! I am furious. Begone, if you would not die by my hand!\"\n\n\"I will go when I have cut off your nose,\" said Coranda. \"I have kept\nmy word. Do you keep yours.\"\n\n\"Stop!\" cried the farmer, putting his hand before his face. \"You will\nsurely let me redeem my nose?\"\n\n\"It depends on what you offer,\" said Coranda.\n\n\"Will you take ten sheep for it?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Ten cows?\"\n\n\"No; I would rather cut off your nose.\" And he sharpened his knife on\nthe door-step.\n\n\"Father,\" said Helen, \"the fault was mine; it belongs to me to repair\nit. Coranda, will you take my hand instead of my father's nose?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Coranda.\n\n\"I make one condition,\" said the young girl. \"We will make the same\nbargain; the first one of us that is not satisfied after marriage\nshall have his nose cut off by the other.\"\n\n\"Good,\" replied Coranda. \"I would rather it was the tongue; but that\nwill come next.\"\n\nNever was a finer wedding seen at Prague, and never was there a\nhappier household. Coranda and the beautiful Helen were a model pair.\nThe husband and wife were never heard to complain of each other; they\nloved with drawn swords, and, thanks to their ingenious bargain, kept\nfor long years both their love and their noses.\n\n\n\n\n_The Three Citrons_\n\nA Neapolitan Tale\n\n[Illustration: ]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a king who was called the King of the\nVermilion Towers. He had but one son, whom he loved as the apple of\nhis eye, and who was the only hope of a royal line about to become\nextinct. The old king's whole ambition was to marry this illustrious\nprince--to find him a princess at once handsome, noble, young, and\nrich. He could think of nothing but this wished-for marriage.\n\nUnhappily, among all the virtues in which the heir to a crown is never\nlacking, Carlino, for that was the young prince's name, had the\ntrifling fault of being shyer than a deer. He shook his head and fled\nto the woods at the mere sound of a woman's name, to the great grief\nof his father, who was in despair at seeing his family about to die\nout. But his grief was in vain; nothing touched the heart of Carlino.\nThe tears of a father, the prayers of a whole people, the interest of\nthe state, nothing could melt this stony heart. Twenty preachers had\nwasted their eloquence and thirty senators their Latin in reasoning\nwith him. To be stubborn is one of the privileges of royalty, as\nCarlino had known from his birth, and he would have thought himself\ndishonored by being second to a mule in obstinacy.\n\nBut more things often happen in an hour than in a hundred years, and\nno one can say with safety, \"This is a road that I shall never\ntravel.\" One morning at breakfast, as Carlino, instead of listening to\nhis father's sermon, was amusing himself by watching the flies buzzing\nin the air, he forgot that he had a knife in his hand, and pricked his\nfinger in a gesture of impatience. The blood gushed forth and fell\ninto a plate of cream that had just been handed to him, where it made\na curious mixture of white and red. Either by chance or by the\npunishment of Heaven, the prince was instantly seized with the maddest\ncaprice that could be imagined.\n\n\"Sir,\" said he to his father, \"if I do not soon find a woman as white\nand red as this cream dyed with my blood, I am lost. This wonder must\nexist somewhere. I love her; I am dying for her; I must have her; I\nwill have her. To a resolute heart nothing is impossible. If you would\nhave me live, let me go in search of her, or before to-morrow I shall\nbe dead of loneliness.\"\n\nThe poor King of the Vermilion Towers was thunderstruck at this folly.\nIt seemed to him that his palace was crumbling over his head; he\nturned red and pale by turns, stammered, wept, and finally cried, in\na voice broken with sobs:\n\n\"Oh, my child, the staff of my old age, my heart's blood, the life of\nmy soul, what an idea have you taken into your head! Have you lost\nyour reason? Yesterday you almost made me die of sorrow by refusing to\nmarry; to-day you are about to drive me from the world by another\npiece of folly. Whither would you go, unhappy boy? Why leave your\nhome, where you have been born and bred? Do you know to what danger\nand suffering the traveler exposes himself? Drive away these perilous\nfancies, and stay with me, my child, if you would not deprive me of\nlife and destroy your kingdom and house at one blow.\"\n\nAll these words, and others equally wise, had no more effect than an\nofficial harangue. Carlino, his eye fixed and his brow bent, listened\nto nothing but his passion. All that was said to him went in at one\near and out at the other; it was eloquence cast to the winds.\n\nWhen the old king, worn out with prayers and tears, perceived that it\nwas easier to melt a leaden weathercock on its steeple than a spoiled\nchild in pursuit of his whim, he heaved a deep sigh and determined to\nlet Carlino go; and giving him counsels to which he scarcely listened,\nseveral bags filled with guineas, which were rather better received\nthan the counsels, and two trusty servants, the good king clasped his\nrebellious son to his heart and bade him adieu, then mounted to the\ntop of the great tower to follow the ungrateful boy with his eyes as\nfar as he could see. When Carlino at last disappeared in the distance,\nthe poor monarch thought that his heart was breaking. He buried his\nface in his hands and wept, not like a child, but like a father. The\ntears of a child are like the summer rain, large drops that are soon\ndried up; the tears of a father are like the autumnal rain, which\nfalls slowly and soaks into the ground.\n\nWhile the king wept, Carlino, mounted on a fine horse, rode on gaily,\nhis plume waving in the wind, like a hero about to conquer the world.\nTo find what he sought was not an easy task, however, and his journey\nlasted more than one day. He crossed mountains and valleys, traversed\nkingdoms, duchies, earldoms, and baronies, and visited cities,\nvillages, castles, and cottages, gazing at all the women, and gazed at\nby them in turn; but all in vain: the treasure that he sought was not\nto be found in old Europe.\n\nAt the end of four months he reached Marseilles, resolved to embark\nfor the Indies. At the sight of the raging sea, however, his brave and\nfaithful servants were seized with an epidemic, called by the\nphysicians stay-at-homeativeness in Hebrew, and the headache in the\nfeet in Latin. To the great regret of these honest people, they were\nforced to quit their good master and remain quietly on shore, wrapped\nin their warm blankets, while Carlino, embarked on a frail bark,\nbraved the winds and waves.\n\nNothing can stop a heart hurried away by passion. The prince roamed\nover Egypt, India, and China, going from province to province, from\ncity to city, from house to house, and from cabin to cabin, everywhere\nseeking the original of the fair image that was engraved on his heart,\nbut in vain. He saw women of all colors and shades, brown, blond,\nolive, sandy, white, yellow, red, and black, but he did not see her\nwhom he loved.\n\nAlways seeking and never finding, Carlino at last reached the end of\nthe world. There was nothing more before him but the ocean and the\nsky. His hopes were at an end; his dream had vanished. As he was\nwalking despairingly up and down the seashore, he spied an old man\nwarming himself in the sun. The prince asked him if there was nothing\nbeyond these waves that stretched as far as the eye could reach.\n\n\"No,\" said the old man; \"no one has ever discovered anything in this\nshoreless ocean, or, at least, those who have ventured on it have\nnever returned to tell the story. I remember, however, having heard\nthe old men among us say, when I was a child,\" he added, \"that their\nfathers had told them that yonder, a long, long way off, far beyond\nthe horizon, was the Island of the Fates; but woe to the imprudent man\nwho approaches these merciless fairies: he is struck with death at\ntheir sight.\"\n\n\"What does that matter?\" cried Carlino. \"I would face death itself to\ngain my wishes.\"\n\nA bark lay by the strand. The prince sprang on board and unfurled the\nsail. The wind, which blew off the shore, hurried forward the frail\ncraft, the land disappeared, and Carlino found himself in the midst of\nthe ocean. In vain he gazed about him; there was nothing but the\nsea--the sea everywhere; in vain the bark bounded over the foaming\nwaves with the speed of lightning, like a steed with mane floating on\nthe wind; there was nothing but the sea--the sea everywhere. Billows\nfollowed billows, the hours passed one after another, the day\ndeclined, and the solitude and silence seemed to deepen around\nCarlino, when all at once he uttered a cry; he saw a black speck in\nthe distance. At the same instant the bark, shooting ahead like an\narrow, struck upon the sand at the foot of huge rocks, which raised\ntheir dark summits, notched and worn by time, to the skies. Fate had\nthrown Carlino upon that strand from which none had ever returned.\n\nTo climb this wall was not an easy matter; there was neither road nor\npath; and when Carlino, after long efforts, with torn hands and\nwearied limbs, at last succeeded in reaching a level spot, what he\nfound was not calculated to reassure him. He saw nothing but glaciers\npiled upon one another--black, damp rocks rising from the midst of the\nsnows--not a tree, not a blade of grass, not a bit of moss; it was the\npicture of winter and death. The only sign of life in this desert was\na wretched hovel, the roof of which was loaded with great stones in\norder to resist the fury of the winds. The prince approached the hut,\nand was about to enter it, when he stopped short, struck with surprise\nand terror at the spectacle which presented itself.\n\nAt the end of the room was a great web of cloth, on which were\npictured all the conditions of life. There were kings, soldiers,\nfarmers, and shepherds, with ladies richly dressed, and peasant women\nspinning by their side. At the bottom boys and girls were dancing\ngaily, holding each other by the hand. Before the web walked the\nmistress of the house--an old woman, if the name woman can be given to\na skeleton with bones scarcely hidden by a skin yellower and more\ntransparent than wax. Like a spider ready to pounce upon its prey, the\nold woman, armed with a great pair of shears, peered at all the\nfigures with a jealous eye, then suddenly fell upon the web and cut it\nat random, when, lo! a piercing wail rose from it that would have\nmoved a heart of stone. The tears of children, the sobs of mothers,\nthe despair of lovers, the last murmurs of old age, all human sorrow\nseemed mingled in this wail. At the sound the old woman burst into a\nloud laugh, and her hideous face lighted up with ferocious delight,\nwhile an invisible hand mended the web, eternally destroyed and\neternally repaired.\n\nThe hag, again opening her shears, was already approaching the web\nanew, when she saw the shadow of Carlino.\n\n\"Fly, unhappy man,\" cried she, without turning round; \"I know what\nbrings you here, but I can do nothing for you. Go to my sister;\nperhaps she will give you what you desire. She is Life--I am Death.\"\n\nCarlino did not wait for a second bidding. He rushed onward, too happy\nto escape this scene of horror.\n\nThe landscape soon changed. Carlino found himself in a fertile valley.\nOn every side were harvests, blossoming fields, vines loaded with\ngrapes, and olive-trees full of fruit. In the thick shade of a\nfig-tree, by a running spring, sat a blind woman unrolling the last\ngold and silver thread from a spindle. Around her lay several\ndistaffs, full of different kinds of materials ready for\nspinning--flax, hemp, wool, silk, and others.\n\nWhen she had finished her task the fairy stretched out her trembling\nhand at random, took the first distaff that came, and began to spin.\n\nCarlino bowed respectfully to the lady, and began with emotion to tell\nher the story of his pilgrimage, when the fairy stopped him at the\nfirst word.\n\n\"My child,\" said she, \"I can do nothing for you. I am only a poor\nblind woman that does not even know herself what she is doing. This\ndistaff, which I have taken at random, decides the fate of all who are\nborn while I am spinning it. Riches or poverty, happiness or\nmisfortune, are attached to this thread that I cannot see. The slave\nof destiny, I can create nothing. Go to my other sister; perhaps she\nwill give you what you desire. She is Birth; I am Life.\"\n\n\"Thanks, madam,\" answered Carlino; and with a light heart he ran to\nfind the youngest of the Fates. He soon discovered her, fresh and\nsmiling as the spring. Everything about her was taking root and\ngerminating; the corn was bursting through the earth and putting forth\nits green blades from the brown furrows; the orange-blossoms were\nopening; the buds on the trees were unfolding their pink scales; the\nchickens, scarcely feathered, were running round the anxious hen, and\nthe lambs were clinging to their mother. It was the first smile of\nlife.\n\nThe fairy received the prince with kindness. After listening to him\nwithout laughing at his folly, she asked him to sup with her, and at\ndessert gave him three citrons, and a beautiful knife with a\nmother-of-pearl handle.\n\n\"Carlino,\" said she, \"you can now return to your father's house. The\nprize is gained; you have found what you have been seeking. Go, then,\nand when you have reached your kingdom, stop at the first fountain\nthat you see and cut one of these citrons. A fairy will come forth,\nwho will ask you for a drink. Give her the water quickly, or she will\nslip through your fingers like quicksilver. If the second escapes you\nin the same way, have an eye to the last; give her a drink instantly,\nand you will have a wife according to your heart.\"\n\nIntoxicated with joy, the prince kissed again and again the charming\nhand that crowned his wishes. He was more happy than wise, and little\ndeserved to succeed; but fairies have their caprices, and Fortune is\nalways a fairy.\n\nIt was a long distance from the end of the world to the kingdom of the\nVermilion Towers. Carlino experienced more than one storm and braved\nmore than one danger on his way across land and sea, but at last,\nafter a long voyage and a thousand trials, he reached his father's\ncountry with his three citrons, which he had treasured like the apple\nof his eye.\n\nHe was not more than two hours' journey from the royal castle when he\nentered a dense forest where he had hunted many a time. A transparent\nfountain, bordered with wild flowers and shaded by the trembling\nleaves of the aspen, invited the traveler to repose. Carlino seated\nhimself on a carpet of verdure enameled with daisies, and, taking his\nknife, cut one of the citrons.\n\nAll at once a young girl as white as milk and as red as a strawberry\ndarted past him like lightning. \"Give me a drink!\" said she, pausing\nan instant.\n\n\"How beautiful she is!\" cried the prince, so ravished by her charms\nthat he forgot the advice of the Fate. He paid dearly for it; in a\nsecond the fairy had disappeared. Carlino smote his breast in despair,\nand stood as astonished as a child that sees the running water slip\nthrough his fingers.\n\nHe tried to calm himself, and cut the next citron with a trembling\nhand, but the second fairy was even more beautiful and more fleeting\nthan her sister. While Carlino admired her, wonder-struck, in the\ntwinkling of an eye she took flight.\n\nThis time the prince burst into tears and wept so bitterly that he\nseemed a part of the fountain. He sobbed, tore his hair, and called\ndown all the maledictions of Heaven on his head.\n\n\"Fool that I am!\" he cried; \"twice I have let her escape as though my\nhands were tied. Fool that I am, I deserve my fate. When I should have\nrun like a greyhound I stood still like a post. A fine piece of\nbusiness! But all is not lost; the third time conquers. I will try the\nmagic knife once more, and if it deceives me this time I will use it\non myself.\"\n\nHe cut the last citron. The third fairy darted forth and said, like\nher companions, \"Give me a drink!\" But the prince had learned a\nlesson. He instantly gave her the water, when, lo! a beautiful,\nslender young girl, as white as milk, with cheeks like roses, stood\nbefore him, looking like a freshly opened rosebud. She was a marvel of\nbeauty such as the world had never seen, as fresh as a lily and as\ngraceful as a swan; her hair was of brighter gold than the sun, her\nclear blue eyes revealed the depths of her heart, her rosy lips seemed\nmade only to comfort and charm; in a word, from head to foot she was\nthe most enchanting creature that had ever descended from heaven to\nearth. It is a great pity that we have no likeness of her.\n\nAt the sight of his bride the prince almost lost his reason from joy\nand surprise. He could not understand how this miracle of freshness\nand beauty had sprung from the bitter rind of a citron.\n\n\"Am I asleep?\" he cried. \"Am I dreaming? If I am the sport of a\ndelusion, for pity's sake do not awaken me.\"\n\nThe fairy's smile soon reassured him. She accepted his hand, and was\nthe first to ask to repair to the good king of the Vermilion Towers,\nwho would be so happy to bless his children.\n\n\"My love,\" answered Carlino, \"I am as impatient as you to see my\nfather and to prove to him that I was right; but we cannot enter the\ncastle arm in arm like two peasants. You must go like a princess; you\nmust be received like a queen. Wait for me by this fountain; I will\nrun to the palace, and return in two hours with a dress and equipage\nworthy of you.\" Saying this, he tenderly kissed her hand and left her.\n\nThe young girl was afraid, on finding herself alone; the cry of a\nraven, the rustling of the trees, a dead branch broken by the wind,\neverything frightened her. She looked tremblingly about her, and saw\nan old oak by the side of the fountain whose huge trunk offered her a\nshelter. She climbed the tree and hid herself in it, all but her\nlovely face, which, encircled by the foliage, was reflected in the\ntransparent fountain as in a clear mirror.\n\n[Illustration: HE INSTANTLY GAVE HER THE WATER, WHEN, LO! A BEAUTIFUL,\nSLENDER YOUNG GIRL STOOD BEFORE HIM]\n\nNow there was a negress, by the name of Lucy, who lived in the\nneighborhood, and who was sent every day by her mistress to the\nfountain for water. Lucy came, as usual, with her pitcher on her\nshoulder, and just as she was about to fill it, she spied the image of\nthe fairy in the spring. The fool, who had never seen herself, thought\nthat the face was her own. \"Poor Lucy!\" she cried. \"What! you, so\nfresh and beautiful, are forced by your mistress to carry water like a\nbeast of burden! No, never!\" And in her vanity she dashed the pitcher\nto the ground and returned home.\n\nWhen her mistress asked her why she had broken the pitcher, the slave\nshrugged her shoulders and said, \"The pitcher that goes often to the\nwell is soon broken.\" Upon this her mistress gave her a little wooden\ncask and ordered her to go back immediately and fill it at the\nfountain.\n\nThe negress ran to the spring, and, gazing lovingly at the beautiful\nimage in the water, sighed and said, \"No, I am not an ape, as I am so\noften told; I am more beautiful than my mistress. Mules may carry\ncasks--not I!\" She dashed the cask on the ground, broke it in a\nthousand pieces, and returned to her mistress, grumbling.\n\n\"Where is the cask?\" asked her mistress, who was waiting impatiently\nfor the water.\n\n\"A mule ran against me and knocked it down, and it is all broken to\npieces.\"\n\nAt these words her mistress lost patience. Seizing a broom, she gave\nthe negress one of those lessons that are not soon forgotten; then,\ntaking down a leathern bottle that was hanging on the wall, \"Run,\nwretched ape,\" she said; \"and if you do not instantly bring this back\nto me full of water, I will beat you within an inch of your life.\"\n\nThe negress took to her heels in terror, and filled the bottle\nobediently; but when it was filled she stopped to look once more in\nthe fountain; and seeing the lovely face reflected there, \"No!\" she\ncried, in a burst of anger--\"no, I will not be a water-carrier; no, I\nwas not made to serve my mistress like a dog.\"\n\nSaying this, she took from her hair the great pin that held it, and\npierced the bottle through and through. The water spouted out in every\ndirection. At the sight the fairy in the tree burst into a fit of\nlaughter. The negress looked up, saw the beautiful stranger, and\nunderstood the whole.\n\n\"Oh!\" said she to herself, \"so you are the cause of my beating; no\nmatter, you shall pay me well for it.\" Then, raising her voice, she\ncalled, in her sweetest tones, \"What are you doing up there, lovely\nlady?\"\n\nThe fairy, who was as good as she was beautiful, tried to comfort the\nslave by talking with her. The acquaintance was soon made; an innocent\nsoul is unsuspicious in friendship. The fairy, without distrust, told\nthe negress all that had happened to her and the prince, why she was\nalone in the forest, and how she was every instant expecting Carlino\nwith a grand equipage to conduct his bride to the king of the\nVermilion Towers, and to marry her there in the presence of all the\ncourt.\n\nOn hearing this story, the wicked and envious negress conceived an\nabominable idea. \"Madame,\" said she, \"if the prince is coming with all\nhis suite, you must be ready to meet him. Your hair is all in\ndisorder; let me come to you, and I will comb it.\"\n\n\"With pleasure,\" answered the fairy, with a gracious smile, as she\nstretched out a little white hand, which looked, in Lucy's great black\npaw, like a crystal mirror in an ebony frame.\n\nNo sooner had she climbed the tree than the wicked slave untied the\nfairy's hair and began to comb it; then, all at once, taking her great\nhair-pin, she pierced her to the brain. Feeling herself wounded, the\nfairy cried, \"Palomba! Palomba!\" when she instantly turned to a\nwood-pigeon and flew away. The horrible negress took her victim's\nplace, and stretched out her neck among the foliage, looking like a\nstatue of jet in a niche of emerald.\n\nMeanwhile the prince, mounted on a magnificent horse, was riding\nthither at full speed, followed by a long cavalcade. Poor Carlino was\nastonished to find a crow where he had left a swan. He almost lost his\nreason, his voice was choked with tears, and he gazed in all\ndirections, hoping to see his bride among the foliage. But the\nnegress, putting on a suffering air, said to him, casting down her\neyes, \"Look no farther, my prince; a wicked fairy has made me her\nvictim, and a wretched fate has changed your lily to charcoal.\"\n\nThough he cursed the fairies who had played on his credulity, Carlino,\nlike a true prince, would not break his word. He gallantly gave his\nhand to Lucy and helped her to descend from the tree, all the while\nheaving sighs that would have melted a heart of stone. When the\nnegress was dressed like a princess, and covered with lace and\ndiamonds that adorned her as the stars adorn the night, by rendering\nthe darkness still more visible, Carlino seated her at his right hand,\nin a magnificent carriage lined with plate-glass and drawn by six\nwhite horses, and took his way to the palace, as happy as a criminal\nwith the rope about his neck.\n\nThe old king came to meet them a league from the castle. The wonderful\nstories of his son had turned his brain. In spite of etiquette and\nagainst the remonstrances of his courtiers, he hastened to admire the\nincomparable beauty of his daughter-in-law. \"Upon my word,\" he\nexclaimed, at the sight of a crow instead of the dove that had been\npromised him--\"upon my word, this is too much. I knew that my son was\nmad, but I did not know that he was blind. Is this the spotless lily\nthat he has been to the end of the world to seek? Is this the rose\nfresher than the morning dew, the miracle of beauty that has come from\nthe rind of a citron? Does he think that I will bear this new insult\nto my gray hairs? Does he think that I will leave to mulatto children\nthe empire of the Vermilion Towers, the glorious inheritance of my\nancestors? This baboon shall never enter my palace.\"\n\nThe prince fell at his father's feet and tried to move him. The prime\nminister, a man of great experience, remonstrated with his master\nthat, at court, black often becomes white and white black in the space\nof twenty-four hours; and that there was no reason to be astonished at\nsuch a very natural metamorphosis. What was the king of the Vermilion\nTowers to do? He was a king and a father, and by this double title\nalways accustomed to do the will of others. He yielded and consented\nwith a bad grace to this strange union. The court gazette announced to\nthe whole kingdom the happy choice that the prince had made, and\nordered the people to rejoice. The wedding was postponed for a week;\nit was impossible to make the preparations for the ceremony in less\ntime than this.\n\nThe negress was lodged in a magnificent suite of apartments;\ncountesses disputed with one another the honor of putting on her\nslippers; and duchesses obtained, not without difficulty, the glorious\nprivilege of handing her her nightgown. The town and castle were\nadorned with flags of all colors; walls were thrown down, yews were\nplanted, walks were graveled, old speeches were furbished up, stale\ncompliments were newly framed, and poems and sonnets that had done\nduty everywhere were patched up anew. There was but one idea in the\nkingdom--that of thankfulness to the prince for having chosen a wife\nso worthy of him.\n\nThe kitchen was not forgotten. Three hundred scullions, a hundred\ncooks, and fifty stewards set to work, under the superintendence of\nthe famous Bouchibus, the chief of the royal kitchens. Pigs were\nkilled, sheep cut up, capons larded, pigeons plucked, and turkeys\nspitted; it was a universal massacre. It is impossible to have a feast\nworthy of the name without the help of the poultry-yard.\n\nIn the midst of this bustle a beautiful wood-pigeon, with blue wings,\nperched on one of the kitchen windows, and cooed, in a plaintive\nvoice,\n\n    \"Bouchibus, tell me, for you must know, sure,\n    What has Carlino to do with the Moor?\"\n\nThe great Bouchibus was at first too busy with public affairs to\nattend to the cooing of a pigeon; but after a while he began to be\nastonished at understanding the language of birds, and thought it his\nduty to inform his new mistress of the wonder. The negress did not\ndisdain to go to the kitchen. As soon as she heard the song, with a\ncry of affright, she ordered Bouchibus to catch the pigeon and make a\nstew of it.\n\nNo sooner said than done. The poor bird suffered itself to be caught\nwithout resistance. In an instant Bouchibus, armed with his great\nknife, cut off its head and threw it into the garden. Three drops of\nblood fell on the ground; and three days after there sprang from the\nearth a beautiful citron-tree, which grew so fast that before night it\nwas in blossom.\n\nThe prince, while taking the air in his balcony, chanced to spy a\ncitron-tree which he had never seen before. He called the cook and\nasked him who had planted this beautiful tree. The story of Bouchibus\nperplexed him greatly. He at once commanded, under penalty of death,\nthat no one should touch the citron-tree, and that the greatest care\nshould be taken of it.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as he awoke, the prince hastened to the\ngarden. There were already three citrons on the tree--three citrons\nexactly like those which the Fate had given him. Carlino gathered\nthem, hastened to his apartments, and shut himself up under lock and\nkey. With a trembling hand he filled a golden cup, set with rubies,\nwhich had belonged to his mother, with water, and opened the magic\nknife, which had never left him.\n\nHe cut a citron, and the first fairy came forth. Carlino scarcely\nglanced at her, and suffered her to take flight. It was the same with\nthe second; but as soon as the third appeared he gave her the cup,\nfrom which she drank with a smile, and stood before him more graceful\nthan ever.\n\nThe fairy then told Carlino all that she had suffered from the wicked\nnegress. The prince, beside himself with mingled joy and anger,\nlaughed and wept, sang and raved. The king, hearing the noise, ran to\nsee what was the matter, and you may judge of his surprise. He danced\nabout like a madman, with his crown on his head and his scepter in his\nhand. All at once he stopped short, bent his brow, which was a sign\nthat a thought had struck him, threw a large veil over the princess\nwhich covered her from head to foot, and taking her by the hand, led\nher to the dining-room.\n\nIt was the hour for breakfast. The ministers and courtiers were ranged\nround a long table, magnificently served, waiting for the entrance of\nthe royal family to be seated. The king called the guests one after\nanother, and, raising the veil as each approached the fairy, asked:\n\n\"What shall be done to the person who sought to destroy this marvel of\nbeauty?\"\n\nAnd each one, wonder-struck, answered in his own way. Some said that\nthe author of such a crime deserved a hempen cravat; others thought\nthat the wretch should be thrown into the water with a stone to his\nneck. Beheading seemed to the old minister too mild a punishment for\nsuch a villain; he was in favor of flaying him alive, and all present\napplauded his humanity.\n\nWhen the negress's turn came she approached without suspicion, and did\nnot recognize the fairy. \"Sire,\" said she, \"a monster capable of\ninjuring this charming creature deserves to be roasted alive in an\noven, and to have his ashes thrown to the winds.\"\n\n\"You have pronounced your own sentence,\" cried the king of the\nVermilion Towers. \"Wretch, behold your victim and prepare to die. Let\na funeral pile be built in the square in front of the castle. I will\ngive my good people the pleasure of seeing a witch burn; it will\noccupy them for an hour or two.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said the young fairy, taking the king's hand, \"Your Majesty\nsurely will not refuse me a wedding gift?\"\n\n\"No, indeed, my child,\" replied the old king. \"Ask what you will;\nshould it be my crown, I will gladly give it to you.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" continued the fairy, \"grant me this wretched creature's\npardon. An ignorant and miserable slave, life has taught her nothing\nbut hatred and malice; let me render her happy and teach her that the\nonly happiness on earth consists in loving others.\"\n\n\"My daughter,\" said the king, \"it is very evident that you are a\nfairy; you know nothing of human justice. Among us, we do not reform\nthe wicked, we kill them; it is sooner done. But I have given my word.\nTame this serpent at your own risk and peril; I am willing.\"\n\nThe fairy raised the negress, who kissed her hands, weeping; then they\nall sat down to the table. The king was so happy that he ate enough\nfor four. As for Carlino, who kept his eyes fixed on his bride, he cut\nhis thumb five or six times in a fit of absent-mindedness, which each\ntime put him in the best humor imaginable. Everything gives us\npleasure when the heart is happy.\n\nWhen the old king died, full of years and honor, Carlino and his\nlovely wife ascended the throne in turn. For half a century, if\nhistory is to be believed, they neither raised the taxes, shed a drop\nof blood, nor caused a tear to fall; and although more than a thousand\nyears have passed since then, the good people of the Vermilion Towers\nstill sigh at the mention of this distant age, and little children are\nnot the only ones to ask when the fairies will reign again.\n\n\n\n\nStory of\n\nCoquerico\n\n_A Spanish Tale_\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a handsome hen who lived like a great lady\nin the poultry-yard of a rich farmer, surrounded by a numerous family\nwhich clucked about her, and none of which clamored more loudly or\npicked up the corn faster with his beak than a poor little deformed\nand crippled chicken. This was precisely the one that the mother loved\nbest. It is the way with all mothers; the weakest and most unsightly\nare always their favorites. This misshapen creature had but one eye,\none wing, and one leg in good condition; it might have been thought\nthat Solomon had executed his memorable sentence on Coquerico, for\nthat was the name of the wretched chicken, and cut him in two with his\nfamous sword. When a person is one-eyed, lame, and one-armed, he may\nreasonably be expected to be modest; but our Castilian ragamuffin was\nprouder than his father, the best spurred, most elegant, bravest, and\nmost gallant cock to be seen from Burgos to Madrid. He thought himself\na phoenix of grace and beauty, and passed the best part of the day\nin admiring himself in the brook. If one of his brothers ran against\nhim by accident, he abused him, called him envious and jealous, and\nrisked his only remaining eye in battle; if the hens clucked on seeing\nhim, he said it was to hide their spite because he did not condescend\nto look at them.\n\nOne day, when he was more puffed up with vanity than usual, he\nresolved no longer to remain in such a narrow sphere, but to go out\ninto the world, where he would be better appreciated.\n\n\"My lady mother,\" said he, \"I am tired of Spain; I am going to Rome to\nsee the pope and cardinals.\"\n\n\"What are you thinking of, my poor child!\" cried his mother. \"Who has\nput such a folly into your head? Never has one of our family been\nknown to quit his country, and for this reason we are the honor of our\nrace, and are proud of our genealogy. Where will you find a\npoultry-yard like this--mulberry-trees to shade you, a whitewashed\nhenroost, a magnificent dunghill, worms and corn everywhere, brothers\nthat love you, and three great dogs to guard you from the foxes? Do\nyou not think that at Rome itself you will regret the ease and plenty\nof such a life?\"\n\nCoquerico shrugged his crippled wing in token of disdain. \"You are a\nsimple woman, my good mother,\" said he; \"everything is accounted\nworthy of admiration by him who has never quitted his dunghill. But I\nhave wit enough to see that my brothers have no ideas and that my\ncousins are nothing but rustics. My genius is stifling in this hole; I\nwish to roam the world and seek my fortune.\"\n\n\"But, my son, have you never looked in the brook?\" resumed the poor\nhen. \"Don't you know that you lack an eye, a leg, and a wing? To make\nyour fortune, you need the eyes of a fox, the legs of a spider, and\nthe wings of a vulture. Once outside of these walls, you are lost.\"\n\n\"My good mother,\" replied Coquerico, \"when a hen hatches a duck she is\nalways frightened on seeing it run to the water. You know me no\nbetter. It is my nature to succeed by my wit and talent. I must have a\npublic capable of appreciating the charms of my person; my place is\nnot among inferior people.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said the hen, seeing all her counsels useless--\"my son,\nlisten at least to your mother's last words. If you go to Rome, take\ncare to avoid St. Peter's Church; the saint, it is said, dislikes\ncocks, especially when they crow. Shun, moreover, certain personages\ncalled cooks and scullions; you will know them by their paper caps,\ntheir tucked-up sleeves, and the great knives which they wear at their\nsides. They are licensed assassins, who track our steps without pity\nand cut our throats without giving us time to cry mercy. And now, my\nchild,\" she added, raising her claw, \"receive my blessing. May St.\nJames, the patron saint of pilgrims, protect thee!\"\n\nCoquerico pretended not to see the tear that trembled in his mother's\neye, nor did he trouble himself any more about his father, who\nbristled his plumage and seemed about to call him back. Without caring\nfor those whom he left behind, he glided through the half-open door\nand, once outside, flapped his only wing and crowed three times, to\ncelebrate his freedom--\"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\"\n\nAs he half flew, half hopped over the fields, he came to the bed of a\nbrook which had been dried up by the sun. In the middle of the sands,\nhowever, still trickled a tiny thread of water, so small that it was\nchoked by a couple of dead leaves that had fallen into it.\n\n\"My friend,\" exclaimed the streamlet at the sight of our traveler--\"my\nfriend, you see my weakness; I have not even the strength to carry\naway these leaves which obstruct my passage, much less to make a\ncircuit, so completely am I exhausted. With a stroke of your beak you\ncan restore me to life. I am not an ingrate; if you oblige me, you may\ncount on my gratitude the first rainy day, when the water from heaven\nshall have restored my strength.\"\n\n\"You are jesting,\" said Coquerico. \"Do I look like one whose business\nit is to sweep the brooks? Apply to those of your own sort.\" And with\nhis sound leg, he leaped across the streamlet.\n\n\"You will remember me when you least expect it,\" murmured the brook,\nbut with so feeble a voice that it was lost on the proud cock.\n\nA little farther on, Coquerico saw the wind lying breathless on the\nground.\n\n\"Dear Coquerico, come to my aid,\" it cried; \"here on earth we should\nhelp one another. You see to what I am reduced by the heat of the day;\nI, who in former times uprooted the olive-trees and lashed the waves\nto frenzy, lie here well-nigh slain by the dog-star. I suffered myself\nto be lulled to sleep by the perfume of the roses with which I was\nplaying; and, lo! here I am, stretched almost lifeless upon the\nground. If you will raise me a couple of inches with your beak and fan\nme a little with your wing, I shall have the strength to mount to\nyonder white clouds which I see in the distance, where I shall receive\naid enough from my family to keep me alive till I gain fresh strength\nfrom the next whirlwind.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered the spiteful Coquerico, \"Your Excellency has more\nthan once amused himself by playing tricks at my expense. It is not a\nweek since your lordship glided like a traitor behind me and diverted\nhimself by opening my tail like a fan and covering me with confusion\nin the face of nations. Have patience, therefore, my worthy friend;\nmockers always have their turn; it does them good to repent and to\nlearn to respect those whose birth, wit, and beauty should screen them\nfrom the jests of a fool.\" And Coquerico, bristling his plumage,\ncrowed three times in his shrillest voice and proudly strutted\nonward.\n\nA little farther on he came to a newly mown field where the farmers\nhad piled up the weeds in order to burn them. Coquerico approached a\nsmoking heap, hoping to find some stray kernels of corn, and saw a\nlittle flame which was charring the green stalks without being able to\nset them on fire.\n\n\"My good friend,\" cried the flame to the new-comer, \"you are just in\ntime to save my life; I am dying for want of air. I cannot imagine\nwhat has become of my cousin, the wind, who cares for nothing but his\nown amusement. Bring me a few dry straws to rekindle my strength, and\nyou will not have obliged an ingrate.\"\n\n\"Wait a moment,\" said Coquerico, \"and I will serve you as you deserve,\ninsolent fellow that dares ask my help!\" And behold! he leaped on the\nheap of dried weeds, and trampled it down till he smothered both flame\nand smoke; after which he exultingly shouted three times,\n\"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\" and flapped his wings, as if he had done a great\ndeed.\n\nProudly strutting onward and crowing, Coquerico at last arrived at\nRome, the place to which all roads lead. Scarcely had he reached the\ncity when he hastened to the great Church of St. Peter. Grand and\nbeautiful as it was, he did not stop to admire it, but, planting\nhimself in front of the main entrance, where he looked like a fly\namong the great columns, he raised himself on tiptoe and began to\nshout, \"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\" only to enrage the saint and disobey his\nmother.\n\nHe had not yet ended his song when one of the pope's guard, who\nchanced to hear him, laid hands on the insolent wretch who dared thus\nto insult the saint, and carried him home in order to roast him for\nsupper.\n\n\"Quick!\" said he to his wife on entering the house, \"give me some\nboiling water; here is a sinner to be punished.\"\n\n\"Pardon, pardon, Madame Water!\" cried Coquerico. \"Oh, good and gentle\nwater, the best and purest thing in the world, do not scald me, I pray\nyou!\"\n\n\"Did you have pity on me when I implored your aid, ungrateful wretch?\"\nanswered the water, boiling with indignation. And with a single gush\nit inundated him from head to foot, and left not a bit of down on his\nbody.\n\nThe unhappy Coquerico stripped of all his feathers, the soldier took\nhim and laid him on the gridiron.\n\n\"Oh, fire, do not burn me!\" cried he, in an agony of terror. \"Oh,\nbeautiful and brilliant fire, the brother of the sun and the cousin of\nthe diamond, spare an unhappy creature; restrain thy ardor, and soften\nthy flame; do not roast me!\"\n\n\"Did you have pity on me when I implored your aid, ungrateful wretch?\"\nanswered the fire, and, fiercely blazing with anger, in an instant it\nburnt Coquerico to a coal.\n\nThe soldier, seeing his roast chicken in this deplorable condition,\ntook him by the leg and threw him out of the window. The wind bore the\nunhappy fowl to a dunghill, where it left him for a moment.\n\n\"Oh, wind,\" murmured Coquerico, who still breathed, \"oh, kindly\nzephyr, protecting breeze, behold me cured of my vain follies. Let me\nrest on the paternal dunghill.\"\n\n\"Let you rest!\" roared the wind. \"Wait, and I will teach you how I\ntreat ingrates.\" And with one blast it sent him so high in the air\nthat, as he fell back, he was transfixed by a steeple.\n\nThere St. Peter was awaiting him. With his own hand he nailed him to\nthe highest steeple in Rome, where he is still shown to travelers.\nHowever high placed he may be, all despise him because he turns with\nthe slightest wind; black, dried up, stripped of his feathers, and\nbeaten by the rain, he is no longer called Coquerico, but Weathercock,\nand thus expiates, and must expiate eternally, his disobedience,\nvanity, and wickedness.\n\n\n\n\nKING BIZARRE and PRINCE CHARMING\n\nOR, THE ART OF GOVERNING MEN\n\nA TALE OF ALL NATIONS\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nI\n\nKING BIZARRE AND PRINCE CHARMING\n\nIn the kingdom of Wild Oats, a happy country, a land blessed of\nHeaven, where the men are always right and the women never wrong,\nthere lived long ago a king who thought of nothing but the happiness\nof his kingdom, and who, it is said, never was dull for lack of\namusement. Whether he was beloved by his people is doubtful; it is\ncertain that the courtiers had little esteem and less love for their\nprince. For this reason, they had given him the surname of King\nBizarre, the only title by which he is known in history, as is seen in\nthe _Great Chronicles of the Kingdoms and Principalities of the World\nWhich Have Never Existed_, a learned masterpiece which has\nimmortalized the erudition and criticism of the reverend father, Dr.\nMelchisedec de Mentiras y Necedad.\n\nLeft a widower after a year's marriage, Bizarre had fixed his whole\naffections on his son and heir, who was the most beautiful child\nimaginable. His complexion was as fresh as a rose; his beautiful hair\nfell in golden curls on his shoulders; add to his clear blue eyes a\nstraight nose, a small mouth, and a dimpled chin, and you have the\nportrait of a cherub. At twelve years of age this young marvel danced\nenchantingly, rode like a riding-master, and fenced to perfection. No\none could have helped being won by his smile and the truly royal\nmanner in which he saluted the crowd in passing when he was in good\nhumor. For this reason, the voice of the people, which is never\nmistaken, had christened him Prince Charming, and his name always\nclung to him.\n\nCharming was as beautiful as the day; but the sun itself, it is said,\nhas spots, and the princes do not disdain to resemble the sun. The\nchild dazzled the court with his fine mien; but there were shadows\nhere and there which did not escape the piercing eye of love or envy.\nSupple, agile, and adroit in all kinds of bodily exercises, Charming\nhad an indolent mind. He lacked application, and had taken a fancy\nthat he ought to know everything without studying. It is true that\ngovernesses, courtiers, and servants had continually repeated to him\nthat work was not made for kings, and that a prince always knows\nenough when he lavishes on poets, writers, and artists, with a\nprodigal and disdainful hand, a little of the money which the people\nare too happy to offer him.\n\nThese maxims tickled Charming's pride; and at twelve years of age the\nbeautiful child, with precocious firmness, had steadily refused to\nlearn the alphabet. Three teachers, chosen from the most able and\npatient instructors, a priest, a philosopher, and a colonel, had\nattempted in turn to bend his youthful obstinacy; but the priest had\nwasted his philosophy, the philosopher his tactics, and the colonel\nhis Latin. Left master of the field of battle, Charming listened to\nnothing but his caprice, and lived lawless and unconstrained. As\nstubborn as a mule, as irascible as a turkey-cock, as dainty as a cat,\nand as idle as an adder, but an accomplished prince withal, he was the\npride of the beautiful country of Wild Oats, and the hope and love of\na people that esteemed nothing in their kings but grace and beauty.\n\n\nII\n\nPAZZA\n\nNotwithstanding he had been brought up at court, King Bizarre was a\nman of sense. Charming's ignorance was far from pleasing to him, and\nhe often asked himself with anxiety what would become of his kingdom\nin the hands of a prince whom the basest of flatterers might easily\ndeceive. But what was he to do, what means could he employ with a\nchild that a worshiped wife had bequeathed to him in dying? Rather\nthan see his son weep, Bizarre would have given him his crown; his\naffection rendered him powerless. Love is not blind, whatever the\npoets may say; alas! it would be too happy not to see a jot. It is the\ntorment of him who loves to become, despite himself, the slave and\naccomplice of the ingrate who feels himself beloved.\n\nEvery day, after the council, the king went to spend the evening with\nthe Countess of Castro, an old lady who had dandled him on her knees\nwhen an infant, and who alone could recall to him the sweet memories\nof his childhood and youth. She was very ugly, and something of a\nwitch, it is said; but the world is so wicked that we must never\nbelieve more than half its scandal. The countess had large features\nand luxuriant gray hair, and it was easy to see that she had been\nbeautiful in former times.\n\nOne day, when Charming had been more unreasonable than usual, the king\nentered the countess's house with an anxious air, and seating himself\nbefore the card-table, began to play a game of Patience. It was his\nway of diverting his thoughts and forgetting for a few hours the cares\nof royalty. Scarcely had he ranged sixteen cards in a square when he\nheaved a deep sigh.\n\n\"Countess,\" he cried, \"you see before you the most wretched of fathers\nand kings. Despite his natural grace, Charming is every day becoming\nmore wilful and vicious. Must I leave such an heir after me, and\nintrust the happiness of my people to a crowned fool?\"\n\n\"That is the way with Nature,\" replied the countess; \"she always\ndistributes her gifts with an impartial hand. Stupidity and beauty go\nhand in hand, and wit and ugliness are seldom separated. I have an\nexample of this in my own family. A few days ago a great-grandniece\nwas sent to me, a child under ten years old, that has no other\nrelative. She is as tawny as a frog, as scraggy as a spider, yet,\nwithal, as cunning as an ape, and as learned as a book. Judge for\nyourself, sire; here is my little monster coming to salute you.\"\n\nBizarre turned his head and saw a child that answered in every respect\nto the countess's description. With a high, round forehead, black,\nwild-looking eyes, rough hair turned back in the Chinese fashion,\ndull, brown skin, great white teeth, red hands, and long arms, she was\nanything but a beauty. But the chrysalis gives birth to the butterfly.\nWait a few years, and you will see what pretty women come from these\nfrightful little girls of ten.\n\nThe little monster approached the king, and courtesied to him with so\nserious an air that Bizarre could not help laughing, though he felt\nlittle like it.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked he, chucking the child under the chin.\n\n\"Sire,\" she answered, gravely, \"I am Donna Dolores Rosario Coral\nConcha Balthazara Melchiora Gaspara y Todos Santos, the daughter of\nthe noble knight Don Pasquale Bartolomeo Francesco de Asiz y--\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said the king. \"I did not ask for your genealogy; we are\nwitnessing neither your baptism nor your marriage. What are you\ncommonly called?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied she, \"I am called Pazza.\"[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: That is to say, Madcap, in Italian. It appears that a\nvery mixed language is spoken in the kingdom of Wild Oats.]\n\n\"And why are you called Pazza?\"\n\n\"Because it is not my name.\"\n\n\"That is strange,\" said the king.\n\n\"No, it is natural,\" replied the child. \"My aunt pretends that I am\ntoo giddy for any saint to wish to own me for her goddaughter, and\nthat is why she has given me a name that can offend no one in\nParadise.\"\n\n\"Well answered, my child. I see that you are not an ordinary girl. The\nsaints in Paradise are not always treated with such consideration.\nSince you know so much, tell me what is a wise man?\"\n\n\"A wise man, sire, is one who knows what he says when he speaks, and\nwhat he does when he acts.\"\n\n\"Upon my word,\" exclaimed the king, \"if my wise men were what you\nfancied them, I would make the Academy of Sciences my council of\nstate, and would give it my kingdom to govern. What is an ignorant\nman?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" returned Pazza, \"there are three kinds of ignorant men: he\nwho knows nothing, he who talks of what he does not know, and he who\nwill learn nothing; all three are fit for nothing but to be burned or\nhung.\"\n\n\"That is a proverb. Do you know what proverbs are called?\"\n\n\"Yes, sire; they are called the wisdom of nations.\"\n\n\"And why are they called so?\"\n\n\"Because they are mad; they say whatever you please; they are of all\ncolors, to suit all tastes. Proverbs are like bells, which answer yes\nor no according to the humor of their listener.\"\n\nUpon which, springing with both feet from the ground, Pazza caught a\nfly that was buzzing about the king's nose; then, leaving Bizarre\nastonished, she took her doll and, seating herself on the ground,\nbegan to rock it in her arms.\n\n\"Well, sire,\" the countess said, \"what do you think of this child?\"\n\n\"She has too much wit,\" answered the king; \"she will not live long.\"\n\n\"Ah, sire,\" exclaimed Pazza, \"you are not complimentary to my aunt;\nshe is considerably older than I am.\"\n\n\"Hush, gipsy!\" said the old lady, smiling; \"don't you know that nobody\nlectures kings?\"\n\n\"Countess,\" said Bizarre, \"an idea has just struck me, which is so\nstrange that I hardly dare tell it to you; yet I have a violent wish\nto carry it out. I can do nothing with my son; reason has no power\nwith the stubborn child. Who knows whether folly would not be more\nsuccessful? If I thought so, I would make Pazza Charming's teacher.\nThe intractable boy, who rejects all masters, might be defenseless\nbefore a child. The only objection is that no one will be of my\nopinion; I shall have everybody against me.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" said the countess; \"everybody is so stupid that it is a proof\nthat you are right that you think differently.\"\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE FIRST LESSON\n\nIn this manner Pazza was intrusted with the instruction of the young\nprince. There was no official appointment; it was not announced in the\ncourt gazette that the king, with his usual wisdom, had found an\nunparalleled genius at the first attempt, to whom he had confided the\nheart and mind of his child; but the very next morning Charming was\nsent to the countess's house, and was permitted to play with Pazza.\n\nThe two children, left alone together, gazed at each other in silence.\nPazza, being the bolder, was the first to speak.\n\n\"What is your name?\" asked she.\n\n\"Those who know me call me Your Highness,\" answered Charming, in a\npiqued tone; \"those who do not know me call me simply My Lord, and\neverybody says Sir to me; etiquette requires it.\"\n\n\"What is etiquette?\" asked Pazza.\n\n\"I don't know,\" replied Charming. \"When I want to jump, shout, and\nroll on the ground, I am told that it is contrary to etiquette; then I\nkeep still, and yawn for lack of amusement--that is etiquette.\"\n\n\"Since we are here to amuse ourselves,\" resumed Pazza, \"there is no\netiquette needed; speak to me as if I were your sister, and I will\nspeak to you as if you were my brother. I will not call you My Lord.\"\n\n\"But you don't know me,\" said Charming.\n\n\"What does that matter?\" returned Pazza; \"I will love you, that is\nbetter. They say that you dance beautifully; teach me to dance, will\nyou?\"\n\nThe ice was broken; Charming took the young girl by the waist, and in\nless than half an hour taught her the last new polka.\n\n\"How well you dance!\" said he. \"You have caught the step directly.\"\n\n\"It is because you are a good teacher,\" she replied. \"Now it is my\nturn to teach you something.\"\n\nShe took a beautiful picture-book, and showed him fine buildings,\nfishes, statesmen, parrots, scholars, curious animals, and flowers,\nall of which greatly amused Charming.\n\n\"See,\" said Pazza, \"here is the explanation of all the pictures; read\nit.\"\n\n\"I don't know how to read,\" replied Charming.\n\n\"I will teach you; I will be your little tutor.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the stubborn prince, \"I do not wish to read. My masters\ntire me.\"\n\n\"Very well; but I am not a master. See, here is an A, a beautiful\ngreat A; say A.\"\n\n\"No,\" returned Charming, frowning, \"I will never say A.\"\n\n\"Not to please me?\"\n\n\"No, never. Enough of this; I do not like people to differ from me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Pazza, \"a polite man never refuses ladies anything.\"\n\n\"I would refuse the devil in petticoats,\" replied the young prince,\ntossing his head. \"I am tired of you; let me alone. I don't love you\nany longer. Call me My Lord.\"\n\n\"My Lord Charming, or my charming lord,\" said Pazza, flushed with\nanger, \"you shall read, or I will know the reason why.\"\n\n\"I won't read.\"\n\n\"Will you not? One--two--three!\"\n\n\"No! no! no!\"\n\nPazza raised her hand, and, lo! the king's son received a box on the\near. Pazza had been told that she was witty to the ends of her\nfingers, and had been stupid enough to believe it; it is never right\nto jest with children.\n\n[Illustration: PAZZA, THOUGH SHE LOVED THE PRINCE, WAS A VERY STERN\nSCHOOLMISTRESS]\n\nAt this first lesson in reading, Charming turned pale and trembled;\nthe blood mounted to his cheeks, his eyes filled with tears, and he\ngazed at his young teacher with a look that made her start; then all\nat once, with a great effort, he regained his self-possession, and\nsaid, in a tremulous voice, \"Pazza, that is A.\" And the same day and\nat one sitting he learned all the letters of the alphabet; at the end\nof the week he spelled readily, and before the month was ended he read\nwith ease.\n\nKing Bizarre was delighted. He kissed Pazza on both cheeks; he\ninsisted on having her always with him or his son, and made this child\nhis friend and counselor, to the great disdain of all the courtiers.\nCharming, still gloomy and silent, learned all that this young mentor\ncould teach him, then returned to his former preceptors, whom he\nastonished by his intelligence and docility. He soon knew his grammar\nso well that the priest asked himself one day whether, by chance,\nthese definitions, which he had never understood, had not a meaning.\nCharming none the less astonished the philosopher, who taught him\nevery evening the opposite of what the priest had taught him in the\nmorning. But, of all his masters, the one to whom he listened with the\nleast repugnance was the colonel. It is true that Bayonet, for that\nwas the colonel's name, was a skilful strategist, and that he could\nsay, like the ancient poet, with a slight variation, \"I am a man, and\nnothing that pertains to the art of despatching poor human beings is\nindifferent to me.\" It was he that initiated Charming into the\nmysteries of button gaiters and shoulder-straps; it was he that taught\nhis pupil that the noblest study for a prince is the drilling of\nbattalions, and that the groundwork of statesmanship is to have\nreviews in order to make war, and to make war in order to have\nreviews.\n\nThis was not perhaps altogether according to Bizarre's idea of the art\nof government; but he thought he could correct any errors in the\nfuture, and besides, he was so rejoiced at Charming's progress that he\nwas unwilling in any way to meddle with the admirable work of an\neducation so long considered hopeless.\n\n\"My child,\" he often said, \"never forget that you owe everything to\nPazza.\" As the king spoke thus, Pazza gazed tenderly at the young man.\nDespite all her wit, she was foolish enough to love him. Charming\ncontented himself with coldly answering that gratitude was a princely\nvirtue, and that Pazza should some day learn that her pupil had\nforgotten nothing.\n\n\nIV\n\nPAZZA'S WEDDING\n\nWhen Prince Charming had attained his seventeenth year, he went one\nmorning in search of King Bizarre, whose health was declining and who\nwas very desirous of seeing his son married before his death.\n\n\"Father,\" said he, \"I have long reflected on your wise words. You gave\nme life, but Pazza has done still more in awakening my mind and soul.\nI see but one way of paying the debt of my heart; that is, to marry\nthe woman to whom I am indebted for what I am. I come to ask you for\nPazza's hand.\"\n\n\"My dear child,\" answered Bizarre, \"this step does you credit. Pazza\nis not of royal blood; she is not the one whom, in different\ncircumstances, I should have chosen for your wife; but her virtues,\nher merit, and, above all, the service which she has rendered us, make\nme forget idle prejudices. Pazza has the soul of a queen; she shall\nmount the throne with you. In the country of Wild Oats, wit and humor\nare held in sufficient estimation to win you forgiveness for what\nfools call a misalliance, and what I call a princely marriage. Happy\nis he who can choose an intelligent wife, capable of understanding and\nloving him! To-morrow your betrothal shall be celebrated, and in two\nyears your marriage shall take place.\"\n\nThe marriage occurred more speedily than the king had foreseen.\nFifteen months after these memorable words, Bizarre expired of languor\nand exhaustion. He had taken the vocation of king in earnest; he fell\na victim to royalty. The old countess and Pazza wept their friend and\nbenefactor, but they were the only mourners. Without being a bad son,\nCharming was engrossed with the cares of the empire; and the court\nexpected everything from the new reign, and thought no more about the\nold king, whose eyes were closed in death.\n\nAfter honoring his father's memory by magnificent obsequies, the young\nprince, thenceforth wholly devoted to love, celebrated his marriage\nwith a splendor that charmed the good people of Wild Oats. The taxes\nwere doubled, but who could regret money so nobly employed? Men came\nfrom a hundred leagues round to gaze at the new king, and Pazza, whose\ngrowing beauty and air of goodness fascinated all hearts, was not less\nadmired. There were interminable dinners, harangues longer than the\ndinners, and poems more tedious than the harangues. In a word, it was\nan incomparable festival, which was talked of for six months after.\n\nEvening come, Charming took the hand of his graceful, timid, and\nblushing bride, and with cold politeness led her through the corridors\nof the old castle. All at once Pazza was frightened to find herself in\na gloomy dungeon, with grated windows and huge bars and locks.\n\n\"What is this?\" asked she. \"It looks like a prison.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the prince, with a terrible look, \"it is a prison which\nyou will quit only for the grave.\"\n\n\"My dear, you frighten me,\" said Pazza, smiling. \"Am I a criminal\nwithout knowing it? Have I deserved your displeasure, that you\nthreaten me with a dungeon?\"\n\n\"You have a short memory,\" replied Charming. \"An insult is written on\nsand to the giver; it is inscribed on marble and bronze to the\nreceiver.\"\n\n\"Charming,\" returned the poor child, beginning to be afraid, \"you are\nrepeating something from those speeches that tired me so much. Can you\nfind nothing better to say to me to-day?\"\n\n\"Wretch!\" cried the king, \"you no longer remember the box on the ear\nthat you gave me seven years ago, but I have not forgotten it. Know\nthat if I wished you for my wife, it has been only to have your life\nin my hands and to make you slowly expiate your crime of high\ntreason.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" said Pazza, with a pettish manner, \"you may put on your\nBluebeard airs, but you will not frighten me, I assure you. I know\nyou, Charming, and I warn you that if you do not put an end to this\nbad jest, I will not only give you one box on the ear, but three,\nbefore I forgive you. Make haste and let me go out, or I vow that I\nwill keep my word.\"\n\n\"Vow it then, madame,\" cried the prince, furious at not intimidating\nhis victim. \"I accept your vow. I vow, too, on my side, that I will\nnever acknowledge you as my wife till I have been base enough to\nreceive three times an insult which nothing but blood can wash out.\nHe laughs well that laughs last. Here, Rachimburg!\"\n\nAt this terrible name, a jailer with a bushy beard and threatening\nmien entered the room, pushed the queen on a wretched truckle-bed, and\nshut and double-locked the iron door.\n\nIf Pazza wept, it was so quietly that no one heard her. Tired of the\nsilence, Charming departed, with rage in his heart, resolving that his\nrigor should break the pride that braved him. Vengeance, it is said,\nis the delight of kings.\n\nTwo hours later the countess received a note by a sure hand\nacquainting her with the sad fate of her niece. How this note reached\nher is known to me, but I will not betray the secret. If a charitable\njailer is found by chance, he should be treated with consideration;\nthe species is rare, and is daily becoming rarer.\n\n\nV\n\nA TERRIBLE EVENT\n\nThe next morning the court gazette announced that the queen had been\nseized with a raging fit of madness on the very night of her wedding,\nand that there was little hope of saving her. There was scarcely a\ncourtier, indeed, that had not observed the princess's restless air on\nthe evening before, and no one was surprised at her malady. All pitied\nthe king, who received with a gloomy and constrained mien the\nexpressions of affection which were lavished on him. He was doubtless\nweighed down with grief, but this grief appeared very much lightened\nafter the visit of the countess.\n\nThe good lady was very sad, and had a great desire to see her poor\nchild, but she was so old, and found herself so weak and sensitive,\nthat she entreated the king to spare her a heartrending spectacle. She\nthrew herself into the arms of Charming, who tenderly embraced her,\nand withdrew, saying that she placed all her hope and trust in the\nlove of the king and the talent of the chief physician of the court.\n\nShe had scarcely left the room when the physician whispered a few\nwords in Charming's ear which called to his face a smile quickly\nrepressed. The countess pacified, there was nothing more to fear; the\nvengeance was sure.\n\nDoctor Wieduwillst was a great physician. Born in the country of\nDreams, he had early quitted his native land to seek his fortune in\nthe kingdom of Wild Oats. He was too able a man not to find it. In the\nfive years that he had spent in the celebrated University of\nLugenmaulberg, the medical theory had changed twenty-five times, and,\nthanks to this solid education, the doctor had a firmness of principle\nwhich nothing could shake. He had the frankness and bluntness of a\nsoldier, it was said; he swore at times, even with ladies, a rudeness\nwhich left him at liberty always to be of the same mind with the\nstronger, and to demand a fee for having no opinion. The queen had\nfallen into his incorruptible hands.\n\nShe had been imprisoned for three days, and the town was already\nbeginning to talk of something else, when one morning Rachimburg\nabruptly entered the king's apartments with a distracted air, and\nthrew himself trembling at his feet.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"I bring you my head. The queen has disappeared.\"\n\n\"What do you tell me!\" exclaimed the king, turning pale. \"The thing is\nimpossible; the dungeon is barred on all sides.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the jailer, \"the thing is impossible, that is certain; the\nbars are in their places, the walls are whole, and neither the locks\nnor the bolts have been disturbed; but there are witches in the world\nthat pass through walls without moving a stone, and who knows but what\nthe prisoner is one of them? Was it ever known whence she came?\"\n\nThe king sent in search of the doctor. He was a strong-minded man and\nhad little faith in witches. He sounded the walls, shook the bars, and\ncross-examined the jailer, but all to no purpose. Trusty men were sent\neverywhere through the town, and spies were set on the countess, whom\nthe doctor suspected, but all in vain, and after a week the search\nwas abandoned. Rachimburg lost his place as jailer, but as he\npossessed the royal secret, as he was needed, and as he thirsted to\navenge himself, he was made the warden of the royal castle. Furious at\nhis bad luck, he exercised his supervision with such strictness that\nin less than three days he arrested Wieduwillst himself half a dozen\ntimes, and disarmed all suspicion.\n\nAt the end of a week some fishermen brought to the court the robe and\nmantle of the queen. The waves had cast on the shore these sad relics,\ncovered with sand and sea-foam. That the poor mad woman had drowned\nherself no one doubted on seeing the grief of the king and the tears\nof the countess. The council was assembled. It decided with a\nunanimous voice that the queen was legally dead and that the king was\nlegally a widower, and for the interest of the people entreated his\nmajesty to abridge a painful mourning and to marry again as soon as\npossible, in order to strengthen the dynasty. This decision was\ntransmitted to the king by Wieduwillst, the chief physician to the\nking and president of the royal council, who made so touching a speech\nthat the whole court burst into tears, and Charming threw himself into\nthe doctor's arms, calling him his cruel friend.\n\nIt is unnecessary to say that the funeral of a queen so much lamented\nwas magnificent. In the kingdom of Wild Oats everything serves as a\npretext for ceremony. The pageant was worthy of admiration, but the\nmost admirable thing in it was the attitude of the young girls of the\ncourt. Every one looked at Charming, who was handsomer than ever in\nhis mourning dress; every one wept with one eye in honor of the\nprincess, and smiled with the other to attract the king. Ah! had\nphotography only been invented, what portraits would antiquity have\ntransmitted to us--what models for our painters! The passions still\nexisted among these good people; their mobile faces were animated by\nlove, hatred, and anger; to-day we are all so virtuous and prudent\nthat we all wear the same dress, the same hat, and the same\nexpression. Civilization is the triumph of morality and the ruin of\nart.\n\nAfter the description of the funeral ceremonies, which, according to\netiquette, filled six columns, the court gazette laid down rules for\nthe full and the second mourning, blue and pink, which are the\nmourning colors in the kingdom of Wild Oats. The court was required to\nbe in deep affliction for three weeks, and to be comforted by degrees\nduring the three weeks following; but carnival occurring during the\nperiod of the second mourning, and respect being had for trade, it was\ndetermined to give a masked ball at the palace. Tailors and\ndressmakers immediately set to work, invitations were solicited by\ngreat and small, and men began to intrigue as if the fate of the\nmonarchy had been in question.\n\nIt was in this solemn manner that they mourned for poor Pazza.\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE MASKED BALL\n\nThe great day so impatiently expected at length arrived. For six weeks\nthe good people of Wild Oats had been in a fever of excitement.\nNothing more was heard of ministers, senators, generals, magistrates,\nprincesses, duchesses, and citizens; for twenty leagues round, clowns,\nharlequins, punchinellos, gipsies, Columbines, and Follies alone were\nto be seen. Politics were silenced, or, rather, the nation was divided\ninto two great parties--the conservatives that went to the ball, and\nthe opposition that stayed at home.\n\nIf the official gazette is to be believed, the festival outshone in\nsplendor all others past and to come. The ball was held in the midst\nof the gardens, in a rotunda magnificently decorated. A winding walk,\nshaded by elms and dimly lighted by alabaster lamps, led to a hall\nresplendent with gold, verdure, flowers, and light. An orchestra, half\nconcealed in the foliage, breathed forth music, by turns plaintive and\ngay. Add to this the richness of the costumes, the brilliancy of the\ndiamonds, the piquancy of the masks, and the charm of intrigue, and\nyou will see that it would have needed the soul of an ancient Stoic to\nresist the intoxication of pleasure.\n\nYet Prince Charming was not amused. Concealed under a blue domino,\nwith his face entirely masked, he had addressed himself to the most\nelegant and sprightly women, and had lavishly displayed his wit and\ngrace, yet he had met with nothing but indifference and coldness. They\nscarcely listened to him, answered with a yawn, and hastened to quit\nhim. All eyes were fixed on a black domino with pink rosettes that\nmoved carelessly among the dancers, receiving with the air of a sultan\nthe compliments and smiles that every one lavished on him. This domino\nwas the Lord Wieduwillst, a great friend of the prince, but still more\nthe friend of his own pleasure. In an unguarded moment the doctor had\nsaid that morning by chance, under the seal of secrecy, and to two\nladies only, that the prince would wear pink rosettes in his black\ndomino. Was it his fault if the ladies had been indiscreet or the\nprince had changed his mind?\n\nWhile the doctor was enjoying, despite himself, indeed, his unexpected\ntriumph, Charming seated himself in a corner of the hall and buried\nhis face in his hands. Alone in the midst of the crowd, he abandoned\nhimself to reflection, and the image of Pazza rose before him. He had\nno reproaches to make himself; his vengeance was just, yet he felt an\nindescribable remorse. Poor Pazza! no doubt she had been guilty; but\nat least she loved him, she understood him, she listened to him, her\neyes sparkling with joy. How different from all those fools who had\nnot recognized a prince under a domino at the first moment by his wit!\n\nHe rose suddenly to quit the hall, when he perceived, a little way\noff, a mask that had also left the crowd and seemed lost in\ncontemplation. A half-open domino disclosed a gipsy's dress and a pair\nof slippers with buckles, containing a foot smaller than that of\nCinderella.\n\nThe king approached the stranger, and saw through the velvet mask a\npair of large black eyes, the melancholy glance of which surprised and\ncharmed him.\n\n\"Fair mask,\" said he, \"your place is not here. Why are you not among\nthe eager and curious crowd that is pressing around the prince to\ndispute his smile and heart? Do you not know that there is a crown to\nbe gained there?\"\n\n\"I make no pretentions,\" answered the domino, in a grave, sweet voice.\n\"In this game of chance one runs the risk of taking the servant for\nthe king. I am too proud to expose myself to such a hazard.\"\n\n\"But if I show you the prince?\"\n\n\"What could I say to him?\" replied the stranger. \"I could not blame\nhim without offense, or praise him without flattery.\"\n\n\"You think much evil of him, then?\"\n\n\"No, a little evil and much good; but what does it matter?\" And,\nopening her fan, the domino relapsed into her reverie.\n\nThis indifference surprised Charming. He addressed her with warmth,\nshe replied coldly; he prayed her so urgently to listen to him that\nshe finally consented to do so, not in the ball-room, where the heat\nwas overpowering and the curiosity indiscreet, but in the long\nelm-walk, where a few promenaders were seeking silence and fresh air.\n\nThe night was advancing, and the gipsy had already spoken several\ntimes of retiring, to the great regret of the prince, who vainly\nentreated her to unmask. The stranger made no reply.\n\n\"You drive me to despair,\" cried he, inspired with strange respect and\nadmiration for this mysterious figure. \"Why this cruel silence?\"\n\n\"Because I know you, my lord,\" replied the stranger, with emotion.\n\"Your voice, which goes to the heart, your language, your grace, all\ntell me who you are. Let me go, Prince Charming.\"\n\n\"No, madam,\" cried the prince, delighted at so much wit, \"you alone\nhave recognized me, you alone have understood me, to you belong my\nheart and kingdom. Throw off that suspicious mask; this very instant\nwe will return to the ball-room and I will present to the ignorant\ncrowd the woman whom I have had the happiness not to displease. Say\nbut one word, and all my people shall be at your feet.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the stranger, sadly, \"permit me to refuse an offer\nwhich does me honor and the memory of which I shall always preserve. I\nam ambitious, I own; the time has been when I should have been proud\nto share your throne and name; but before all things I am a woman and\nplace all my happiness in love. I will not have a divided heart,\nshould my rival be only a memory; I am jealous even of the past.\"\n\n\"I have never loved in my life,\" cried the prince, with a vehemence\nthat made the stranger start. \"There is a mystery concerning my\nmarriage which I can reveal only to my wife; but I swear to you that I\nhave never given away my heart; I love now for the first time.\"\n\n\"Show me your hand,\" said the gipsy, approaching the lamp, \"and let me\nsee whether you have told the truth.\"\n\nCharming extended his hand with assurance; the gipsy studied the lines\nand sighed.\n\n\"You are right, my lord,\" said she, \"you have never loved. But this\ndoes not appease my jealousy. Another woman has loved you before me.\nThese sacred bonds are not broken by death; the queen still loves\nyou--you belong to her. To accept a heart which is no longer at your\ndisposal would be sacrilegious and criminal in me. Farewell.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the king, with an ill-assured voice, \"you do not know\nwhat you make me suffer. There are things which I would gladly burn in\neternal silence, but which you force me to reveal. The queen never\nloved me; ambition alone dictated her conduct.\"\n\n\"That is not so,\" said the stranger, letting go the prince's hand.\n\"The queen loved you.\"\n\n\"No, madam,\" replied Charming; \"my father and I were the victims of a\ndetestable intrigue.\"\n\n\"Enough!\" said the stranger, whose hands trembled and whose fingers\nworked in a strange manner. \"Respect the dead; do not slander them.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the prince, \"I assure you, and none ever doubted my\nword, that the queen never loved me. She was a wicked woman.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the domino.\n\n\"Wilful, violent, and jealous.\"\n\n\"If she was jealous, she loved you,\" interrupted the mask. \"Seek for\nproofs which have at least a shadow of probability; do not accuse a\nheart which was wholly yours.\"\n\n\"So far from loving me,\" said the king, excitedly, \"the very night of\nmy marriage she dared tell me to my face that she had married me only\nfor my crown.\"\n\n\"That is not true,\" said the gipsy, raising her hand.\n\n\"I swear it,\" replied Charming.\n\n\"You lie!\" cried the stranger. And, lo! a box on the ear blinded the\nprince; the blow was repeated, and the stranger fled.\n\nThe king stepped back furious, and sought the hilt of his sword; but\nmen do not go to balls armed as for war; for his sole weapon he found\na knot of ribbons. He ran after his enemy, but which way had she fled?\nCharming lost himself twenty times in the labyrinth; he met none but\npeaceful dominos walking in couples and scarcely glancing at him as he\npassed. Breathless, distracted, and desperate, he returned to the\nball-room, where he doubted not that the stranger had taken refuge;\nbut how was he to find her?\n\nA brilliant idea crossed the prince's mind; he would order all to\nunmask, and would doubtless see the gipsy, confounded by the king's\npresence and betrayed by her own agitation. He instantly leaped on a\nchair, and exclaimed in a loud voice that caused every one to start:\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, day is approaching and pleasure is languishing;\nlet us revive mirth by a new caprice. Off with the masks! I set the\nexample; let all who love me follow it.\"\n\nHe threw off his domino, raised his mask, and appeared in the richest\nand most elegant Spanish costume ever worn by prince. There was a\ngeneral outcry; all eyes were at first turned toward the king, then\ntoward the black domino with pink rosettes, who retreated as fast as\npossible with a modesty that was not affected. All unmasked. The\nladies gathered round the king, who, it was remarked, had the most\nviolent fancy for the gipsy costume. Young or old, all the gipsies\nreceived his homage; he took them by the hand and gazed at them with\nan air which made all the other masks ready to burst with envy, then\nmade a sign to the orchestra; the dance recommenced, and the prince\ndisappeared.\n\nHe hastened again to the elm-walk in search of the traitress who had\ninsulted him, doubtless led by vengeance. His blood boiled in his\nveins; he wandered at random, suddenly stopping short, looking,\nlistening, and spying in all directions. At the faintest gleam of\nlight through the foliage he sprang forward like a madman, laughing\nand weeping at the same time as though distracted.\n\nAt the turn of an alley he met Rachimburg advancing toward him\ntrembling, with an air of terror.\n\n\"Sire,\" murmured he, in a mysterious voice, \"has Your Majesty seen\nit?\"\n\n\"What?\" asked the king.\n\n\"The specter; it passed close by me. I am a lost man; I shall die\nto-morrow.\"\n\n\"What specter?\" said Charming. \"What fool's tale are you telling me?\"\n\n\"A specter--a domino with flashing eyes, that threw me on my knees and\nboxed my ears twice.\"\n\n\"It is she!\" cried the king; \"it is she! Why did you let her go?\"\n\n\"Your Majesty, I had not my pike; but if ever I see her again I will\nknock her down.\"\n\n\"Do no such thing!\" returned the king. \"If ever she returns, do not\nfrighten her; follow her and discover her retreat. But where is she?\nWhich way did she go? Lead me; if I find her your fortune is made.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said the honest porter, looking at the moon, \"if the specter\nis anywhere, it must be up yonder; I saw it, as plainly as I see Your\nMajesty, dissolving in mist. But before taking flight it gave me a\nmessage for Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"What? Speak quickly!\"\n\n\"Sire, its words were terrible; I shall never dare repeat them to Your\nMajesty.\"\n\n\"Speak, I order you.\"\n\n\"Sire, the specter said, in a sepulchral voice, 'Tell the king that if\nhe marries again he is a dead man. The loved one will return.'\"\n\n\"Here,\" said the prince, whose eyes shone with a strange luster, \"take\nthis purse. Henceforth I attach you to my person; I appoint you my\nfirst attendant, counting on your devotion and prudence. Let this\naffair remain a secret between us.\"\n\n\"That makes two,\" murmured Rachimburg, as he departed with a firm\ntread, like a man who neither suffers himself to be cast down by fear\nor dazzled by good fortune. He was a strong-minded man.\n\nThe next morning the court gazette contained the following lines, in\nthe form of a letter without signature, in the unofficial part of the\npaper:\n\n\"A rumor has been spread that the king is thinking of marrying again.\nThe king knows what he owes to his people, and is always ready to\nsacrifice himself for the happiness of his subjects. But the people of\nWild Oats have too much delicacy not to respect a recent affliction.\nThe king's whole thoughts are fixed on his beloved wife; he hopes the\nconsolation from time that is at present refused him.\"\n\nThis note threw the court and town in agitation. The young girls\nthought the scruples of the prince exaggerated; more than one mother\nshrugged her shoulders, and said that the king had vulgar prejudices\nworthy only of the common people; but at night there was strife in\nevery well-ordered household. There was not a wife of any pretensions\nto aristocratic birth that did not quarrel with her unworthy spouse\nand force him to admit that there was but one heart capable of love,\nand but one faithful husband in the whole kingdom, namely, Prince\nCharming.\n\n\nVII\n\nTWO CONSULTATIONS\n\nAfter so much excitement, the king was seized with a cruel fit of\ntedium. To divert himself, he attempted every kind of pleasure; he\nhunted, he presided over his council, he went to the play and the\nopera, he received all the state corporations with their wives, he\nread a Carthaginian novel, and reviewed the troops half a score of\ntimes; but all in vain: an inexorable memory, an ever-present image\nleft him no rest or peace. The gipsy pursued him even in his dreams;\nhe saw her, he talked to her, and she listened to him; but, by some\nunaccountable fatality, as soon as she raised her mask, Pazza's pale,\nsad face always appeared.\n\nThe doctor was the only confidant to whom Charming could avow his\nremorse, but at his word Wieduwillst burst into laughter.\n\n\"The effect of habit, sire,\" he said. \"Gain time, multiply\nimpressions, and all will be effaced.\"\n\nTo procure the prince excitement and to drive away sorrow by a bold\ndiversion, the doctor supped every evening alone with His Majesty, and\npoured out intoxication and forgetfulness with a liberal hand.\nWieduwillst did not spare himself, but wine had little effect on his\nstrong brain; he would have defied Bacchus and Silenus together with\nCharming. While the prince, by turn noisy and silent, plunged into the\nextremes of joy and sadness, always restless and never happy,\nWieduwillst, calm and smiling, directed his thoughts, and through pure\ngoodness of soul took upon himself all the fatigue and care of the\ngovernment.\n\nThree decrees had already placed in his hands the police, the courts,\nand the finances. The doctor well understood all the advantages of\ncentralization. The way in which he administered the taxes relieved\nhim from all personal anxiety for the future. The courts punished\nthose who clamored too loudly; the police silenced those who whispered\ntoo much. Nevertheless, in spite of the ability of these political\nschemes, the people, always ungrateful, did not appreciate their\nhappiness. The inhabitants of Wild Oats delight in complaining; the\npleasure was spoiled for them.\n\nKing Bizarre's name was in all hearts and every one regretted the good\nold times when they shouted over the roof-tops that they were gagged.\n\nThe doctor was ambitious; he was born for a prime minister. Every\nmorning some new ordinance made the people feel that the king was\nnothing and the minister everything. Charming was the only one that\ndid not perceive his nothingness. Shut up in his palace, and dying of\nennui, his sole companion was a page placed near him by the prime\nminister on Rachimburg's recommendation. Frolicsome, chattering, and\nindiscreet, a good musician and capital card-player, Tonto, for that\nwas the page's name, amused the king by his pranks; he pleased the\nprime minister no less, but by other virtues. Devoted to his\nbenefactor, the good-natured page innocently repeated to him the most\ntrifling words of the prince--an easy task, moreover, as the king was\nconstantly dreaming and never spoke.\n\nIt is a fine thing to have the advantages of power; but appetite comes\nby eating even with ministers. The ambitious doctor began to desire\nboth the honors and luster of royalty. Charming's best friend did not\nonce think of dethroning him; nations sometimes have foolish\nprejudices and cling to old habits, but nothing was easier than to\nfrighten a sick prince and send him afar off in search of a cure that\nwould be long coming, while in his absence the doctor would reign as\nhis proxy.\n\nCharming was young; he still clung to life, and, moreover, how could\nhe resist the tender solicitude of the good doctor? The three most\nrenowned physicians of the faculty met one evening in consultation at\nthe palace--long Tristram, fat Jocundus, and little Guilleret, three\ncelebrated men--three geniuses who had made their fortune, each with\none idea, which had been the reason why they had never had any more.\n\nAfter the king had been cross-questioned, looked at, handled,\nauscultated, and turned round again and again, Tristram spoke first,\nin a rude voice.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"you must be bled like a peasant, and live without\nany exertion whatever. Your disease is a deficiency of blood, a\nconstitutional atony. Nothing but a journey to the Clear Waters can\ncure you. Go quickly, or you are a dead man. You have my opinion.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said fat Jocundus, \"I fully share the admirable opinion of my\ndear professional brother. You are suffering from superabundant\nvitality. Your disease is a constitutional plethora. Go, drink the\nClear Waters, and you will be a well man again. You have my opinion.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said little Guilleret, \"the diagnostic of my masters fills me\nwith admiration. I bow before their learning. Like them, I believe\nthat you are suffering from disorder of the sympathetic nerves. Your\ndisease is a constitutional nervousness. Drink the Clear Waters. Go\nquickly, or you are a dead man. You have my opinion.\"\n\nA unanimous opinion was drawn up and immediately carried to the court\ngazette by Tonto; and the three doctors rose, bowed to the minister\nand the king, shook hands with one another, and went down-stairs\nquarreling or laughing, I know not which; the chronicle is almost\nillegible, owing to a large blot in this place.\n\nAfter the three physicians had gone, Wieduwillst read the opinion,\nreflected deeply, and looked at the king. Charming, who had supped a\nlittle better this evening even than usual, had not once listened to\nthe doctors, but sat gazing around him with bloodshot eyes.\n\n[Illustration: THE MOST RENOWNED PHYSICIANS OF THE FACULTY MET ONE\nEVENING IN CONSULTATION AT THE PALACE]\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"it is the unanimous opinion of these gentlemen that,\nif you wish to be cured, you must go to the Clear Waters and\nabandon the affairs of state. Such a resolution appears to me unworthy\nof Your Royal Majesty. A great prince should sacrifice himself for his\npeople, and--\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said the king. \"Spare me this worn-out moralizing and come\nto the conclusion. You wish me to go, my good friend; you are dying\nfor me to do so, for my own interest, of course. Draw up a decree\nplacing the regency in your hands, and I will sign it.\"\n\n\"Sire, the decree is here, in your portfolio; a good minister always\nhas papers drawn up to suit whatever circumstances may arise. He never\nknows what may happen.\"\n\nCharming took the pen, carelessly signed the decree without reading\nit, and handed it to the minister, who approached to receive it with a\nsmile; then, seized with a new caprice, he drew back the paper and\nread it.\n\n\"What!\" said he, \"no statement of reasons; nothing to assure my people\nof the kindness I bear them! Doctor, you are too modest; to-morrow\nthis decree shall be in the gazette, with a statement from the hand of\nyour friend and master. Good night; these gentlemen have tired me.\"\n\nThe doctor went out with a light step, erect brow, and sparkling eye,\nprouder and more insolent than ever. Charming sank again into his\nreverie, thinking that, in spite of all, he was not the most unhappy\nof princes, since Heaven had given him such a friend.\n\nAll at once the strangest little doctor that had ever been seen in a\ncastle entered the king's apartment unannounced. He wore a wig with\nlong curls, his snow-white beard fell on his breast, and his eyes were\nso bright and youthful that it seemed as though they must have come\ninto the world sixty years after the rest of his body.\n\n\"Where are those knaves?\" cried he, with a shrill voice, rapping on\nthe floor with his cane. \"Where are those ignorant fellows, those\npedants, those ill-bred men that did not wait for me? Ah! so you are\nthe patient,\" said he to the stupefied king. \"That is good. Put out\nyour tongue. Quick! I am in a hurry.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the king.\n\n\"I am Doctor Truth, the greatest doctor in the world, as you will see,\nin spite of my modesty. Ask Wieduwillst, my pupil, who sent for me\nfrom the Land of Dreams. I cure everybody, even those who are not ill.\nPut out your tongue; that's right. Where is the opinion? Very well.\nAtony--_asinis!_ Plethora--_asini!_ Nervousness--_asinorum!_ Drink the\nClear Waters--_asininum!_ Do you know what is your disease? It is\nvexation, and even worse.\"\n\n\"Do you see that?\" said Charming, terrified.\n\n\"Yes, my son, it is written on your tongue. But I will cure you: it\nshall be done by to-morrow noon.\"\n\n\"To-morrow!\" said the king. \"All my treasures--\"\n\n\"Silence, my son. What portfolio is that?--the minister's? Good. Sign\nthese three papers for me.\"\n\n\"They are blank decrees,\" said the king. \"What do you wish to do with\nthem?\"\n\n\"They are my ordinances. Sign. Well done, my son; be obedient, and\nto-morrow noon you shall be as gay as a lark. First ordinance: If you\nwould live at peace, appear at peace; I suppress six regiments. Second\nordinance: A penny in a peasant's pocket is worth twenty in the king's\ntreasury; I suppress one fourth of the taxes. Third ordinance: Liberty\nis like the sunshine--it is the happiness and fortune of the poor; I\nthrow open the political prisons and demolish the debtors' prisons.\nYou are laughing, my son; it is a good sign when a patient laughs at\nhis doctor.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Charming, \"I am laughing to think of Wieduwillst's face\nto-morrow on reading these ordinances in the court gazette. Enough of\nthese follies, buffoon doctor; give me back the papers and put an end\nto this farce.\"\n\n\"What is this?\" said the little man, taking up the decree of the\nregency. \"God forgive me! it is an abdication. What are you thinking\nof, Prince Charming? What! the inheritance bequeathed to you by your\nfathers, the people intrusted to you by God, your name, your honor,\nwill you throw all these at the feet of an adventurer? Will you let\nyourself be dethroned and duped by a deceiver? Impossible! It does not\nsuit me. I oppose it. Do you hear?\"\n\n\"What insolent fellow addresses his prince in this way?\"\n\n\"Politeness is not in words. Charming, are you mad? Are you dreaming?\nAre you wholly without heart?\"\n\n\"This is too much!\" cried the king. \"Begone, wretch, or I will throw\nyou out of the window.\"\n\n\"Begone!\" said the little doctor, in a shrill voice. \"No, not till I\nhave destroyed this mad and stupid document. See, I tear your\nabdication in pieces and trample it under-foot!\"\n\nCharming seized the madman and called his guards. No one answered. The\nlittle man struggled with wonderful strength. With his foot he threw\nthe lamp on the ground; but the king, despite the darkness, kept fast\nhold of the sorcerer, who felt his strength failing.\n\n\"Let me go!\" murmured he; \"for Heaven's sake let me go! You know not\nwhat you are doing. You are breaking my arm.\"\n\nHis words and prayers were useless. Suddenly a shower of blows, dealt\nby a strong hand, fell on the king's ears. Charming let go his hold in\nsurprise, and turned to attack his invisible enemy. He found nothing\nbut empty space, and, staggering in the darkness, cried loudly for the\nhelp that did not come. Such a thing could not have happened in a\nminister's house; kings are always worse guarded.\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE END OF A DREAM\n\nAt last a door opened and Rachimburg entered, according to etiquette,\nto undress the king. The faithful servant appeared greatly vexed to\nfind him without a light, groping along the wall.\n\n\"Where is that infernal doctor?\" asked Charming, foaming with rage.\n\n\"It is more than an hour, sire, since His Excellency quitted the\npalace.\"\n\n\"Who is talking of Wieduwillst?\" cried the king. \"Which way did the\nvillain go that just insulted me?\"\n\nRachimburg looked at the prince with a contrite air, and raised his\neyes to heaven, sighing.\n\n\"A man went out of the door that leads to your rooms,\" said Charming.\n\"How did he enter, and where has he fled?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Rachimburg, \"I have neither quitted my post nor seen any\none.\"\n\n\"I tell you that a man was in this room a moment ago.\"\n\n\"Sire, Your Majesty is never mistaken; if a man was in this room he\nis still here, unless he has flown through the window or Your Majesty\nhas been dreaming.\"\n\n\"Fool, do I look like a man who has been dreaming? Did I overturn this\nlamp? did I tear these papers?\"\n\n\"Sire, I am nothing but a worm of the earth; God forbid that I should\ncontradict my sovereign. Your majesty does not hire me to give him the\nlie. But this year strange dreams are an epidemic. No one knows what\nhe may do or suffer in his sleep. Only just now I was overtaken with\nsleep in spite of myself, and if I were not sure that I was dreaming I\nshould declare that an invisible hand boxed my ears twice, at which I\nawakened with a start.\"\n\n\"It was the specter!\" said the king.\n\n\"Your Majesty is right,\" replied Rachimburg; \"I am nothing but a\nsimpleton; it was the specter.\"\n\n\"And I did not know her!\" resumed Charming. \"Nevertheless, it was her\nvoice and air. What does this mean? Is it a new insult? Is it a\nwarning from heaven? Does some danger threaten me? No matter, I will\nremain in my kingdom. My friend, not a word of all this: take this\npurse and keep the secret.\"\n\n\"That makes the third,\" murmured the faithful Rachimburg, as he\nundressed the king with a zeal and address which several times made\nHis Majesty smile.\n\nSo many emotions one after another banished sleep; it was daybreak\nbefore the prince dozed, and broad daylight before he awoke. In the\nfirst moment between sleeping and waking Charming fancied that he\nheard a strange noise--bells ringing, cannon firing, and three or four\nbands of music playing each a different air. He was not mistaken; it\nwas an infernal hubbub. The king rang. Rachimburg entered, carrying a\nbouquet of flowers.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"will His Majesty permit the humblest of his servants\nto be the first to express to him the universal joy? Your people are\nintoxicated with love and gratitude. The taxes lessened, the prisons\nopened, the army reduced! Sire, you are the greatest prince in the\nworld; never has earth seen a ruler like you. Show yourself at the\nbalcony; answer these cries of 'Hurrah for the king!' Smile on the\npeople that bless you.\"\n\nRachimburg could not finish; tears choked his voice. He attempted to\nwipe his eyes, but in his excitement he took the gazette from his\npocket instead of a handkerchief, and began to kiss it like a madman.\n\nCharming took the journal, and vainly attempted, while dressing, to\ncollect his ideas. By what chance had these insane ordinances found\ntheir way into the official journal? Who had sent them? Why did not\nWieduwillst make his appearance? The prince wished to reflect,\nconsult, and question; but the people were under the windows, and\ntheir majesties were too impatient to wait.\n\nAs soon as the king appeared in the balcony he was greeted with\nshouts of enthusiasm, which, despite everything, thrilled his heart.\nMen tossed their caps in the air, women waved their handkerchiefs,\nmothers lifted up their children and made them stretch their innocent\nhands to heaven, and repeat, \"Hurrah for the king!\" The guns of the\npalace guards were decked with flowers, the drums beat, and the\nofficers' swords flashed in the sun. It was a scene of delirious joy.\nCharming was infected by the general emotion; he wept without exactly\nknowing why. At that instant the clock struck noon. The specter was\nright--the prince was cured.\n\nAfter the crowd it was the turn of the corporations, all of whom, the\nministers at the head, came to congratulate and thank the king for\nhaving so well understood the wishes of his faithful counselors. A\nsingle person was lacking, namely, Wieduwillst. None knew where he had\nhidden his ignorance and spite. A mysterious note received by him that\nmorning had occasioned his flight, yet this note contained only the\nwords, _The king knows all!_ Who had written this fatal letter? Not\nthe prince; he alone, perhaps, in the palace, thought of the minister,\nand wondered at not seeing him by his side.\n\nAll at once Tonto entered, pale and haggard. He ran to the king and\ngave him a letter which an officer had brought at full gallop. The\ngovernor of the province, General Bayonet, sent terrible news; the six\ndisbanded regiments had mutinied, headed by Wieduwillst. The rebels\nhad proclaimed the downfall of the king, whom they accused of\nabominable crimes, especially of the murder of the queen. Numerous and\nwell commanded, they were approaching the city, which was defended\nonly by a few doubtful and disaffected regiments. Bayonet entreated\nthe king to come instantly and take command; an hour later, and all\nwould be lost.\n\nHurried on by Tonto and Rachimburg, the king secretly quitted the\npalace, followed by a few officers. A proclamation, placarded on all\nthe walls of the city and at every corner of the streets, declared\nthat there was no truth in the rumors spread by a few malicious\npersons, and that the army had never been more devoted or faithful.\nUpon this there was a universal panic; stocks fell 50 per cent. in\nhalf an hour, and did not rise again till unofficial news arrived that\nthe king had been well received at head-quarters.\n\n\nIX\n\nHEROIC REMEDIES FOR GREAT EVILS\n\nThe news was false; the prince had been received with great coldness.\nIt was his own fault. Sad, despondent, and abstracted, Charming had\nneither found a jest for the soldiers nor a word of trust for the\nofficers. He entered the general's tent and fell into a chair. Tonto\nwas little less disheartened.\n\n\"Sire,\" said Bayonet, \"permit me to speak to you with the frankness of\na soldier and the freedom of an old friend. The army is murmuring and\nhesitating; we must secure it, or all is lost. The enemy is in sight;\nwe must attack him. Five minutes sometimes decide the fate of empires;\nit is so with us now. Do not wait till it is too late.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the king. \"To horse! in an instant I will be with\nyou.\"\n\nLeft alone with Tonto and Rachimburg, the king exclaimed, in despair,\n\"My good friends, quit a master who can do no more for you. I shall\nnot dispute my wretched life with my enemies. Betrayed in friendship\nand treacherously assassinated, I recognize in my misfortune the hand\nof an avenging God. It is in punishment for my crime. I killed the\nqueen in my stupid vengeance; the hour has come to expiate my fault,\nand I am ready.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Tonto, trying to smile, \"shake off these sad thoughts. If\nthe queen were here she would tell you to defend yourself. Believe\nme,\" he added, twisting his budding mustache, \"I am acquainted with\nwomen! Were they dead, they would still love to avenge themselves.\nBesides, you did not kill the queen; and perhaps she is not so dead as\nyou imagine.\"\n\n\"What do you say?\" exclaimed the king; \"you are losing your reason.\"\n\n\"I say that there are women who die expressly to enrage their\nhusbands; why should there not be those that would rise from the dead\nto enrage them still more? Leave the dead, and think of the living who\nlove you. You are a king; fight like a king, and, if necessary, fall\nlike a king.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Bayonet, entering, sword in hand, \"time presses.\"\n\n\"General, to horse!\" cried Tonto; \"let us go.\"\n\nBayonet quitted the room to give the needful orders. When he was gone,\nCharming looked at Tonto and said: \"No, I will not go. I do not\nunderstand my feelings; I abhor myself. I am not afraid of death; I am\ngoing to kill myself; nevertheless, I will not fight.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Tonto, \"in Heaven's name, summon up your courage. To\nhorse! Great God!\" he exclaimed, wringing his hands, \"the prince will\nnot listen to me; we are lost. Come!\" said he, taking hold of\nCharming's cloak; \"up, sire; to horse, unhappy prince! Save your\nkingdom--save your people--save all that love you. Coward! look at me;\nI am nothing but a child, yet I am about to die for you. Fight! do not\ndisgrace yourself. If you do not rise I will insult you--I, your\nservant. You are a coward--do you hear? a coward!\"\n\nAnd behold! the insolent page boxed the king's ears.\n\n\"S'death!\" cried Charming, drawing his sword. \"Before dying I will\nhave the pleasure of punishing one subject, at least.\"\n\nBut the page had left the tent. With one bound he sprang into the\nsaddle and galloped toward the enemy, sword in hand, crying, \"The\nking! my friends--the king! Sound the trumpets! Forward!\"\n\nCharming, mad with anger, spurred his horse in pursuit of the page:\nlike a bull at the sight of a red flag, he rushed forward, head\ndownward, caring neither for death nor for danger. Bayonet rushed\nafter the king, and the army after the general. It was the finest\ncavalry charge ever known in history.\n\nAt the noise of the squadrons, which shook the ground like thunder,\nthe enemy, surprised, scarcely had time to form in line of battle. One\nman, however, had recognized the king--the infamous Wieduwillst.\nCharming was alone; wholly absorbed in his vengeance, he saw nothing\nbut the page whom he was pursuing. The traitor threw himself on the\nprince, sword in hand, and would have slain him at one stroke had not\nTonto, plunging his spurs into the flanks of his horse, made the\nanimal rear and fall on Wieduwillst. The page received the blow\nintended for his master. He threw up his arms and fell with a loud\ncry; but his fall, at least, was avenged. The king thrust his sword\ninto the throat of the treacherous physician, and drew it forth,\ndripping with blood, not without pleasure. Man is decidedly the king\nof wild beasts.\n\nThe traitor's death decided the fate of the day. The royal army,\nelectrified by the heroism of its leader, soon dispersed the\nstraggling battalions. The rebels, having nothing more to hope, sued\nfor pardon, and their prayer was granted by the happy and clement\nking.\n\nAn hour after quitting the camp where he had wished to die, Charming\nreturned in triumph, bringing with him conquerors and conquered, all\nblended in the same ranks, the former loudly protesting their loyalty,\nthe latter overpowering them with their enthusiasm. Nothing sharpens\ndevotion so much as a little treason.\n\n\nX\n\nIN WHICH WE SEE THAT IT IS WRONG TO JUDGE ACCORDING\n\nTO APPEARANCES, AND THAT TONTO WAS NOT TONTO\n\nThe king entered his tent to rest a moment, when the sight of\nRachimburg reminded him of Tonto.\n\n\"Is the page dead?\" he asked.\n\n\"No, sire,\" answered Rachimburg; \"unfortunately for him, he is still\nliving; he is hopeless. I ordered him carried to his aunt's, the\nCountess de Castro's, close by here.\"\n\n\"Is he the countess's nephew?\" said the king. \"I was never told of\nit.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty has forgotten it,\" replied Rachimburg, quietly. \"The\npoor child is fatally wounded in the shoulder; he cannot recover. It\nwould give him great happiness could he see Your Majesty before he\ndies.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" returned the king; \"lead me to him.\"\n\nOn his arrival at the castle Charming was met by the countess, who\nconducted him to a darkened room. The page was stretched, pale and\nbleeding, on a couch; nevertheless, he had strength to raise his head\nand welcome the king.\n\n\"What a miracle!\" exclaimed Charming. \"This is the strangest wound\nthat I ever saw in my life: one side of Tonto's mustache is gone!\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said the countess, \"the blade of the sword probably swept off\none side. Nothing is so capricious as sword wounds, as every one\nknows.\"\n\n\"How strange!\" cried the king. \"On one side it is Tonto, my page, my\ninsolent subject, and on the other it is--no, I am not mistaken--it is\nyou, my good angel and my savior; it is you, my poor Pazza!\"\n\nHe fell on his knees and seized her hand, which lay on the coverlet.\n\n\"Sire,\" said Pazza, \"my days are numbered, but before dying--\"\n\n\"No, no, Pazza, you shall not die,\" cried the king, in tears.\n\n\"Before dying,\" she added, casting down her eyes, \"I hope that Your\nMajesty will forgive me the box on the ear which I gave you this\nmorning in indiscreet zeal--\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said the king; \"I forgive you. After all, a throne and honor\nwere well worth--what I received.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Pazza, \"that is not all.\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed Charming, \"is there anything more?\"\n\n\"Oh, sire, what have you done?\" cried the countess; \"my child is\ndying!\"\n\n\"My Pazza, you must not die!\" exclaimed the king. \"Speak, and be sure\nthat I forgive in advance all you have done. Alas! it is I that have\nneed of forgiveness.\"\n\n\"Sire, the little doctor who took the liberty of boxing Your Majesty's\nears--\"\n\n\"Was it you that sent him?\" asked Charming, with a frown.\n\n\"No, sire, I myself was he. Ah, what would I not have done to save my\nking! It was I who, to save Your Majesty from the traitorous knaves\nthat surrounded you, took the liberty of boxing your ears--\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said Charming; \"I forgive you, though the lesson was a harsh\none.\"\n\n\"Alas! this is not all,\" said Pazza.\n\n\"What, more?\" cried the king, rising.\n\n\"Oh, aunt, I am dying!\" exclaimed Pazza. By dint of care, however, she\nwas restored to life; and, turning her languishing eyes toward the\nking, \"Sire,\" said she, \"the gipsy girl at the masked ball, who dared\nto box your ears--\"\n\n\"Was yourself, Pazza?\" said charming. \"Oh, I forgive you for that; I\nwell deserved it. How could I doubt you, who are sincerity itself!\nBut, now I think of it, do you remember the rash vow that you made on\nthe night of our marriage? You have kept your promise; it is for me to\nkeep mine. Pazza, make haste to recover, and return to the castle from\nwhich happiness fled with you.\"\n\n\"I have a last favor to ask of Your Majesty,\" said Pazza. \"Rachimburg\nwas the witness this morning of a scene for which I blush, and of\nwhich all must remain ignorant. I commend this faithful servant to\nyour goodness.\"\n\n\"Rachimburg,\" said the king, \"take this purse, and keep the secret\nunder penalty of your head.\"\n\n\"That makes the fourth,\" whispered Rachimburg to himself; \"my fortune\nis made.\"\n\nIn a few moments Pazza was asleep. \"Do you think that she will\nrecover?\" asked Charming, anxiously, of the countess.\n\n\"Bah!\" said the old lady. \"No matter how ill a woman may be, happiness\nwill bring her back from the brink of the grave. Kiss the queen, my\nnephew; it will do her more good than all the doctors in the world.\"\n\nCharming stooped and kissed the sleeping Pazza. An angelic smile\nstole over her features, at the sight of which he wept like a child.\n\n\nXI\n\nA WIFE SHOULD OBEY HER HUSBAND\n\nThe countess was right (women are always right--past sixty). A\nfortnight of happiness set Pazza on her feet again, and enabled her to\nmake a triumphant entry into the city with the king, her husband. Her\npaleness, and her wounded arm, which she carried in a sling, added to\nher grace and beauty. Charming had eyes for no one but the queen, and\nthe people's looks followed the king's.\n\nThey were more than an hour in reaching the castle. The magistrates\nhad erected not less than three triumphal arches, frowning fortresses,\ndefended each by thirty-six deputations and thirty-six speeches. The\nfirst arch, made of trellis-work, and adorned with leaves and flowers,\nbore the inscription,\n\n             TO THE MOST TENDER AND FAITHFUL OF HUSBANDS\n\nThis was intrusted to the keeping of five or six thousand young girls,\ndressed in white, with pink ribbons, representing the spring of the\nyear, the hope of the future, welcoming Glory and Beauty.\n\nThe second arch, more solidly built, was a frame covered with\ntapestry, surmounted by Justice, with her eyes bandaged and her scales\nin her hand.\n\nOn the pedestal of the statue was written,\n\n                          TO THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE,\n                         THE BEST AND WISEST OF PRINCES\n\nA host of priests, statesmen, and magistrates, in robes of all colors,\nrepresented Religion, Wisdom, and Virtue; at least so said these\nvenerable and discreet personages, who are never in error.\n\nLast came an immense arch, a true military trophy, bearing as its\nmotto,\n\n               TO THE BOLDEST AND MOST VALIANT OF KINGS\n\nHere the army awaited its general, and the queen was saluted by the\nmajestic voice of a hundred cannon and two hundred drums--a voice\nbefore which all human eloquence falters, and which always has the\nlast word.\n\nI spare you a description of the dinner, which was interminable, and\nof sixty more speeches from the court gazette, where they had already\ndone service two or three times, and wherein they were again deposited\nfor the use of future generations. There is nothing so monotonous as\nhappiness, and we must be indulgent to those who sing its praises\nofficially. In such cases, the ablest is he who says the least.\n\nThe long evening, during which the king had lavished his most gracious\nsmiles on those whom he despised at the bottom of his heart, was at\nlength at an end, and Charming led Pazza, no longer to a dungeon, but\nto a magnificent apartment, where a new surprise awaited her. At the\nbottom of the room was an illuminated transparency, on which were\nwritten lines so bad that a king alone could have been the author of\nthem. These lines, which were published in the official gazette, have\nbeen handed down to us by one of those indiscreet persons who suffer\nno follies of the past to be lost. Such persons are the rag-pickers of\nhistory.\n\n    Ye indolent dunces, who rust in your sloth,\n      Too lazy or wilful to learn;\n    Ye courtiers, who crowd round the king, nothing loth\n      By base flattery his favor to earn;\n    Ye doctors, who laugh at us cowards, and sell\n      Long words and wise oracles dear--\n    Beware lest some night a mischievous sprite\n      Should give you a box on the ear.\n\n    And you, ye proud husbands, puffed up with conceit,\n      Who deem yourselves statesmen so wise\n    That the whole world admiringly bows at your feet--\n      Who truth, love, and goodness despise--\n    Beware lest some day your less frivolous wives,\n      Derided by those they held dear,\n    Should start from your side, aroused by just pride,\n      And give you a box on the ear.\n\n\"What means this enigma, sire?\" asked Pazza.\n\n\"It means that I do myself justice,\" answered the king. \"I am nothing\nexcept through you, dear Pazza; all that I know and all that I think I\nowe to you. Without you I am nothing but a soulless body, fit only for\nfollies.\"\n\n\"Pardon me if I contradict Your Majesty,\" said Pazza.\n\n\"Oh,\" returned the king, \"I affect no false modesty; I know very well\nthat I have the clearest head of any in my council; my ministers\nthemselves are forced to acknowledge it, for they are always of my\nopinion; but with all this there is more wisdom in your little finger\nthan in all my royal brain. My resolution, therefore, is fixed. Let my\ncourt and people celebrate my wisdom, my goodness, and even my valor;\nit is all very well, and I accept the homage. You alone have the right\nto laugh at it, and you will not betray me. But from this day I\nabandon my power to you. The king, my dear Pazza, will be only the\nchief of your subjects, the faithful minister of your will. You shall\nwrite the piece and I will play it; the applause will be mine,\naccording to custom, and I will give it back to you by force of love.\"\n\n\"Do not talk in this way, my dear,\" said Pazza.\n\n\"I know what I am saying,\" returned the king, warmly. \"I wish you to\nrule; I mean that in my empire, as in my house, nothing shall be done\nexcept by your command; I am the master and the king; I desire and\norder it.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Pazza, \"I am your wife and servant; it is my duty to\nobey.\"\n\nAfter this, says the chronicle, they lived happily to a good old age,\nbeloved by all their subjects; and the people of the kingdom of Wild\nOats still talk of the good old days of Prince Charming and the\nPrincess Pazza.\n\n\n\nTHE END","title":"Laboulaye's Fairy Book","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":47010}