{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27826/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27826","id":"gutenberg_27826","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27826","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was\nproduced from scanned images of public domain material\nfrom the Google Print project.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    THE\n             OLIVE FAIRY BOOK\n\n                 EDITED BY\n                ANDREW LANG\n\n\n   _WITH EIGHT COLOURED PLATES AND WITH\n   NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. J. FORD_\n\n\n          LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.\n      91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK\n        LONDON, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA\n                    1907\n\n\n\n\n             _Copyright, 1907_\n        BY LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.\n\n           _All rights reserved_\n\n _The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S.A._\n\n\n\n\n    THE FAIRY BOOK SERIES\n    EDITED BY ANDREW LANG\n\n    _Crown 8vo, gilt edges._\n\n    THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK. With 138 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE RED FAIRY BOOK. With 100 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE GREEN FAIRY BOOK. With 99 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE GREY FAIRY BOOK. With 65 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK. With 104 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE PINK FAIRY BOOK. With 67 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE VIOLET FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 54 other\n        Illustrations. Net, $1.60. By mail, $1.75.\n\n    THE CRIMSON FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 45 other\n        Illustrations. Net, $1.60. By mail, $1.75.\n\n    THE ORANGE FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 50 other\n        Illustrations. Net, $1.60. By mail, $1.75.\n\n    THE BROWN FAIRY BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and 42 other\n        Illustrations. Net, $1.60. By mail, $1.75.\n\n    THE BLUE POETRY BOOK. With 100 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE TRUE STORY BOOK. With 66 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE RED TRUE STORY BOOK. With 100 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE ANIMAL STORY BOOK. With 67 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE RED BOOK OF ANIMAL STORIES. With 65 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE ARABIAN NIGHTS ENTERTAINMENTS. With 66 Illustrations. $2.00.\n\n    THE BOOK OF ROMANCE. With 8 Coloured Plates and 44 other\n        Illustrations. Net, $1.60. By mail, $1.75.\n\n    THE RED ROMANCE BOOK. With 8 Coloured Plates and many other\n        Illustrations by H. J. Ford. Net, $1.60. By mail, $1.75.\n\n    Longmans, Green, and Co., New York.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: THE BLUE PARROT.\n      [_See p. 16._]\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nMany years ago my friend and publisher, Mr. Charles Longman, presented\nme with _Le Cabinet des Fees_ ('The Fairy Cabinet'). This work almost\nrequires a swinging bookcase for its accommodation, like the\n_Encyclopaedia Britannica_, and in a revolving bookcase I bestowed the\nvolumes. Circumstances of an intimately domestic character, 'not\nwholly unconnected,' as Mr. Micawber might have said, with the\nnarrowness of my study (in which it is impossible to 'swing a cat'),\nprevent the revolving bookcase from revolving at this moment. I can\nsee, however, that the Fairy Cabinet contains at least forty volumes,\nand I think there are about sixty in all. This great plenitude of\nfairy tales from all quarters presents legends of fairies, witches,\ngenii or Djinn, monsters, dragons, wicked step-mothers, princesses,\npretty or plain, princes lucky or unlucky, giants, dwarfs, and\nenchantments. The stories begin with those which children like\nbest--the old _Blue Beard_, _Puss in Boots_, _Hop o' my Thumb_,\n_Little Red Riding Hood_, _The Sleeping Beauty_, and _Toads and\nPearls_. These were first collected, written, and printed at Paris in\n1697. The author was Monsieur Charles Perrault, a famous personage in\na great _perruque_, who in his day wrote large volumes now unread. He\nnever dreamed that he was to be remembered mainly by the shabby little\nvolume with the tiny headpiece pictures--how unlike the fairy way of\ndrawing by Mr. Ford, said to be known as 'Over-the-wall Ford' among\nauthors who play cricket, because of the force with which he swipes!\nPerrault picked up the rustic tales which the nurse of his little boy\nused to tell, and he told them again in his own courtly, witty way.\nThey do not seem to have been translated into English until nearly\nthirty years later, when they were published in English, with the\nFrench on the opposite page, by a Mr. Pote, a bookseller at Eton.\nProbably the younger Eton boys learned as much French as they\ncondescended to acquire from these fairy tales, which are certainly\nmore amusing than the _Telemaque_ of Messire Francois de Salignac de\nla Motte-Fenelon, tutor of the children of France, Archbishop Duke of\nCambrai, and Prince of the Holy Roman Empire.\n\nThe success of Perrault was based on the pleasure which the court of\nLouis XIV. took in fairy tales; we know that they were told among\nCourt ladies, from a letter of Madame de Sevigne. Naturally, Perrault\nhad imitators, such as Madame d'Aulnoy, a wandering lady of more wit\nthan reputation. To her we owe _Beauty and the Beast_ and _The Yellow\nDwarf_. Anthony Hamilton tried his hand with _The Ram_, a story too\nprolix and confused, best remembered for the remark, 'Ram, my friend,\nbegin at the beginning!' Indeed, the narrative style of the Ram is\nlacking in lucidity! Then came _The Arabian Nights_, translated by\nMonsieur Galland. Nobody has translated _The Arabian Nights_ so well\nas Galland. His is the reverse of a scientific rendering, but it is as\npleasantly readable as the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ would be if Alexandre\nDumas had kept his promise to translate Homer. Galland omitted the\nverses and a great number of passages which nobody would miss, though\nthe anthropologist is supposed to find them valuable and instructive\nin later scientific translations which do not amuse. Later, Persian\nTales, Tales of the Sea, and original inventions, more or less on the\nfairy model, were composed by industrious men and women. They are far\ntoo long--are novels, indeed, and would please no child or mature\nperson of taste. All these were collected in the vast Fairy Cabinet,\npublished in 1786, just before the Revolution. Probably their attempt\nto be simple charmed a society which was extremely artificial, talked\nabout 'the simple life' and the 'state of nature,' and was on the eve\nof a revolution in which human nature revealed her most primitive\ntraits in orgies of blood.\n\nThat was the end of the Court and of the Court Fairy Tales, and just\nwhen they were demolished, learned men like the Grimms and Sir Walter\nScott began to take an interest in the popular tales of peasants and\nsavages all the world over. All the world over the tales were found to\nbe essentially the same things. _Cinderella_ is everywhere; a whole\nbook has been written on _Cinderella_ by Miss Cox, and a very good\nbook it is, but not interesting to children. For them the best of the\ncollections of foreign fairy tales are the German stories by the\nGrimms, the _Tales from the Norse_, by Sir G. W. Dasent, (which some\nfoolish 'grown-ups' denounced as 'improper'), and Miss Frere's Indian\nstories. There are hundreds of collections of savage and peasant fairy\ntales, but, though many of these are most interesting, especially\nBishop Callaway's Zulu stories (with the Zulu versions), these do not\ncome in the way of parents and uncles, and therefore do not come in\nthe way of children. It is my wish that children should be allowed to\nchoose their own books. Let their friends give them the money and turn\nthem loose in the book shops! They know their own tastes, and if the\nchildren are born bookish, while their dear parents are the reverse,\n(and this does occur!), then the children make the better choice. They\nare unaffected in their selections; some want Shakespeares of their\nown, and some prefer a volume entitled _Buster Brown_. A few--alas,\nhow few!--are fond of poetry; a still smaller number are fond of\nhistory. 'We know that there are no fairies, but history stories are\n_true_!' say these little innocents. I am not so sure that there are\nno fairies, and I am only too well aware that the best 'history\nstories' are not true.\n\nWhat children do love is ghost stories. 'Tell us a ghost story!' they\ncry, and I am able to meet the demand, with which I am in sincere\nsympathy. Only strong control prevents me from telling the last true\nghost story which I heard yesterday. It would suit children\nexcellently well. 'The Grey Ghost Story Book' would be a favourite. At\na very early age I read a number of advertisements of books, and wept\nbecause I could not buy dozens of them, and somebody gave me a book on\nBotany! It looked all right, nicely bound in green cloth, but within\nit was full of all manner of tediousness.\n\nIn our Fairy Cabinet, which cannot extend to sixty volumes, we have\naimed at pleasing children, not 'grown-ups,' at whom the old French\nwriters directed their romances, but have hunted for fairy tales in\nall quarters, not in Europe alone. In this volume we open, thanks to\nDr. Ignaz Kuenos, with a story from the Turks. 'Little King Loc' is an\noriginal invention by M. Anatole France, which he very kindly\npermitted Mrs. Lang to adapt from _L'Abeille_.\n\nMajor Campbell, as previously, tells tales which he collected among\nthe natives of India. But the sources are usually named at the end of\neach story, and when they are not named children will not miss them.\nMrs. Lang, except in cases mentioned, has translated and adapted to\nthe conditions of young readers the bulk of the collection, and Mrs.\nSkovgaard-Pedersen has done 'The Green Knight' from the Danish. I must\nespecially thank Monsieur Macler for permitting us to use some of his\n_Contes Armeniens_ (Paris: Ernest Leroux, Editeur).\n\n\n\n\n_CONTENTS_\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n    _Madschun_                                                       1\n\n    _The Blue Parrot_                                                9\n\n    _Geirlaug the King's Daughter_                                  27\n\n    _The Story of Little King Loc_                                  43\n\n    '_A Long-bow Story_'                                            64\n\n    _Jackal or Tiger?_                                              71\n\n    _The Comb and the Collar_                                       87\n\n    _The Thanksgiving of the Wazir_                                103\n\n    _Samba the Coward_                                             108\n\n    _Kupti and Imani_                                              119\n\n    _The Strange Adventures of Little Maia_                        131\n\n    _Diamond cut Diamond_                                          144\n\n    _The Green Knight_                                             152\n\n    _The Five Wise Words of the Guru_                              167\n\n    _The Golden-headed Fish_                                       178\n\n    _Dorani_                                                       188\n\n    _The Satin Surgeon_                                            198\n\n    _The Billy Goat and the King_                                  211\n\n    _The Story of Zoulvisia_                                       216\n\n    _Grasp all, Lose all_                                          234\n\n    _The Fate of the Turtle_                                       242\n\n    _The Snake Prince_                                             247\n\n    _The Prince and Princess in the Forest_                        256\n\n    _The Clever Weaver_                                            276\n\n    _The Boy who found Fear at last_                               279\n\n    _He Wins who Waits_                                            289\n\n    _The Steel Cane_                                               301\n\n    _The Punishment of the Fairy Gangana_                          305\n\n    _The Silent Princess_                                          318\n\n\n\n\n_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS_\n\n\n_COLOURED PLATES_\n\n    _The Blue Parrot_                                   _Frontispiece_\n\n    '_Stay here and you shall be King_'                _To face p._ 60\n\n    _The Princess and the Wolves in the Forest_             \"       90\n\n    _The Boy in the Valley_                                 \"      206\n\n    _The Ascent of the Crystal Tower_                       \"      222\n\n    '_Queen of Snakes, give me back my Husband_'            \"      252\n\n    _The Sea-maiden with a wicked Face_                     \"      284\n\n    _The Princess chooses_                                  \"      290\n\n\n_PLATES_\n\n    _Ismenor brings Lino to Riquette_                  _To face p._ 12\n\n    _The Magician's Wife whistles to the Parrot_            \"       22\n\n    _The Dragon Discomfited_                                \"       28\n\n    '_Will you lend me your ox, fair maiden?_'              \"       38\n\n    _Abeille finds herself among the Little Men_            \"       46\n\n    _King Loc carries Abeille away from her Mother_         \"       56\n\n    _The Bunniah's Story_                                   \"       66\n\n    '_Quick! prince! quick! the time is flying,\n        comb me at once_'                                   \"       94\n\n    _Samba found skulking by his Wife_                      \"      110\n\n    _The Princess changes Clothes with the Goose-girl_      \"      162\n\n    '_What think you, O mortal, of my fair and lovely\n        wife?_'                                             \"      170\n\n    _The Prince has pity on the Gold-headed Fish_           \"      178\n\n    '_He never could persuade her to say a single\n        word._'                                             \"      188\n\n    _The Princess gets her Letter_                          \"      200\n\n    '_I accept your challenge. Mount and follow me.\n        I am Zoulvisia._'                                   \"      218\n\n    _The Witch and her Snakes_                              \"      226\n\n    _The Princess of Arabia released from the Iron\n        Pillar_                                             \"      262\n\n    _The Boy secures the Bracelet_                          \"      280\n\n    _Blind Rage filled the Heart of the Watcher_            \"      296\n\n    '_The Seven Veils fell from her_'                       \"      332\n\n\n_ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT_\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n    _Love at first sight_                                            2\n\n    _How the Birds were brought to the Sultan_                       5\n\n    _The Swallow brings the Note to Lino_                           18\n\n    _Pull as He might, He could not get free_                       37\n\n    '_Is this the Man that You wish to Marry?_'                     62\n\n    _The Farmer finds the Queen weeping by the Palanquin_           73\n\n    _The Unlucky Shot_                                              75\n\n    _Ameer Ali wins the Anklet_                                     78\n\n    _The Princess saves the White Fox_                             100\n\n    _Imani attends to the Crippled Fakir_                          121\n\n    _Imani listens to what the Monkeys say_                        127\n\n    _Maia carried off by the Cockchafer_                           135\n\n    _Maia and the Spiders in the Evening_                          141\n\n    _He helped her to jump from the Swallow's back_                142\n\n    _The Poisoned Nail_                                            159\n\n    _The Invisible Prince goes with the Ladies_                    194\n\n    _The King laughs at the Billygoat_                             213\n\n    _Suddenly the Tree rose up again and flew away_                240\n\n    _The Snake Prince visits his Wife_                             251\n\n    _The Robber-chief catches the Queen_                           259\n\n    _The Hawk flies away with the Lamp_                            271\n\n    _The Silent Princess speaks at last_                           327\n\n\n\n\n_MADSCHUN_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived, in a small cottage among some hills, a\nwoman with her son, and, to her great grief, the young man, though\nhardly more than twenty years of age, had not as much hair on his head\nas a baby. But, old as he looked, the youth was very idle, and\nwhatever trade his mother put him to he refused to work, and in a few\ndays always came home again.\n\nOn a fine summer morning he was lying as usual half asleep in the\nlittle garden in front of the cottage when the sultan's daughter came\nriding by, followed by a number of gaily dressed ladies. The youth\nlazily raised himself on his elbow to look at her, and that one glance\nchanged his whole nature.\n\n'I will marry her and nobody else,' he thought. And jumping up, he\nwent to find his mother.\n\n'You must go at once to the sultan, and tell him that I want his\ndaughter for my wife,' he said.\n\n'WHAT?' shouted the old woman, shrinking back into a corner, for\nnothing but sudden madness could explain such an amazing errand.\n\n'Don't you understand? You must go at once to the sultan and tell him\nthat I want his daughter for my wife,' repeated the youth impatiently.\n\n'But--but, do you know what you are saying?' stammered the mother.\n'You will learn no trade, and have only the five gold pieces left you\nby your father, and can you really expect that the sultan would give\nhis daughter to a penniless bald-pate like you?'\n\n'That is _my_ affair; do as I bid you.' And neither day nor night did\nher son cease tormenting her, till, in despair, she put on her best\nclothes, and wrapped her veil about her, and went over the hill to the\npalace.\n\nIt was the day that the sultan set apart for hearing the complaints\nand petitions of his people, so the woman found no difficulty in\ngaining admission to his presence.\n\n  [Illustration: LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT]\n\n'Do not think me mad, O Excellency,' she began, 'though I know I must\nseem like it. But I have a son who, since his eyes have rested on the\nveiled face of the princess, has not left me in peace day or night\ntill I consented to come to the palace, and to ask your Excellency for\nyour daughter's hand. It was in vain I answered that my head might pay\nthe forfeit of my boldness, he would listen to nothing. Therefore am\nI here; do with me even as you will!'\n\nNow the sultan always loved anything out of the common, and this\nsituation was new indeed. So, instead of ordering the trembling\ncreature to be flogged or cast into prison, as some other sovereigns\nmight have done, he merely said: 'Bid your son come hither.'\n\nThe old woman stared in astonishment at such a reply. But when the\nsultan repeated his words even more gently than before, and did not\nlook in anywise angered, she took courage, and bowing again she\nhastened homeward.\n\n'Well, how have you sped?' asked her son eagerly as she crossed the\nthreshold.\n\n'You are to go up to the palace without delay, and speak to the sultan\nhimself,' replied the mother. And when he heard the good news, his\nface lightened up so wonderfully that his mother thought what a pity\nit was that he had no hair, as then he would be quite handsome.\n\n'Ah, the lightning will not fly more swiftly,' cried he. And in\nanother instant he was out of her sight.\n\nWhen the sultan beheld the bald head of his daughter's wooer, he no\nlonger felt in the mood for joking, and resolved that he must somehow\nor other shake himself free of such an unwelcome lover. But as he had\nsummoned the young man to the palace, he could hardly dismiss him\nwithout a reason, so he hastily said:\n\n'I hear you wish to marry my daughter? Well and good. But the man who\nis to be her husband must first collect all the birds in the world,\nand bring them into the gardens of the palace; for hitherto no birds\nhave made their homes in the trees.'\n\nThe young man was filled with despair at the sultan's words. How was\nhe to snare all these birds? and even if he _did_ succeed in catching\nthem it would take years to carry them to the palace! Still, he was\ntoo proud to let the sultan think that he had given up the princess\nwithout a struggle, so he took a road that led past the palace and\nwalked on, not noticing whither he went.\n\nIn this manner a week slipped by, and at length he found himself\ncrossing a desert with great rocks scattered here and there. In the\nshadow cast by one of these was seated a holy man or dervish, as he\nwas called, who motioned to the youth to sit beside him.\n\n'Something is troubling you, my son,' said the holy man; 'tell me what\nit is, as I may be able to help you.'\n\n'O, my father,' answered the youth, 'I wish to marry the princess of\nmy country; but the sultan refuses to give her to me unless I can\ncollect all the birds in the world and bring them into his garden. And\nhow can I, or any other man, do that?'\n\n'Do not despair,' replied the dervish, 'it is not so difficult as it\nsounds. Two days' journey from here, in the path of the setting sun,\nthere stands a cypress tree, larger than any other cypress that grows\nupon the earth. Sit down where the shadow is darkest, close to the\ntrunk, and keep very still. By-and-by you will hear a mighty rushing\nof wings, and all the birds in the world will come and nestle in the\nbranches. Be careful not to make a sound till everything is quiet\nagain, and then say \"Madschun!\" At that the birds will be forced to\nremain where they are--not one can move from its perch; and you will\nbe able to place them all over your head and arms and body, and in\nthis way you must carry them to the sultan.'\n\nWith a glad heart the young man thanked the dervish, and paid such\nclose heed to his directions that, a few days later, a strange figure\ncovered with soft feathers walked into the presence of the sultan. The\nprincess's father was filled with surprise, for never had he seen such\na sight before. Oh! how lovely were those little bodies, and bright\nfrightened eyes! Soon a gentle stirring was heard, and what a\nmultitude of wings unfolded themselves: blue wings, yellow wings, red\nwings, green wings. And when the young man whispered 'Go,' they first\nflew in circles round the sultan's head, and then disappeared through\nthe open window, to choose homes in the garden.\n\n  [Illustration: HOW THE BIRDS WERE BROUGHT TO THE SULTAN]\n\n'I have done your bidding, O Sultan, and now give me the princess,'\nsaid the youth. And the sultan answered hurriedly:\n\n'Yes! oh, yes! you have pleased me well! Only one thing remains to\nturn you into a husband that any girl might desire. That head of\nyours, you know--it is so _very_ bald! Get it covered with nice thick\ncurly hair, and _then_ I will give you my daughter. You are so clever\nthat I am sure this will give you no trouble at all.'\n\nSilently the young man listened to the sultan's words, and silently he\nsat in his mother's kitchen for many days to come, till, one morning,\nthe news reached him that the sultan had betrothed his daughter to the\nson of the wizir, and that the wedding was to be celebrated without\ndelay in the palace. With that he arose in wrath, and made his way\nquickly and secretly to a side door, used only by the workmen who kept\nthe building in repair, and, unseen by anyone, he made his way into\nthe mosque, and then entered the palace by a gallery which opened\nstraight into the great hall. Here the bride and bridegroom and two or\nthree friends were assembled, waiting for the appearance of the sultan\nfor the contract to be signed.\n\n'Madschun!' whispered the youth from above. And instantly everyone\nremained rooted to the ground; and some messengers whom the sultan had\nsent to see that all was ready shared the same fate.\n\nAt length, angry and impatient, the sultan went down to behold with\nhis own eyes what had happened, but as nobody could give him any\nexplanation, he bade one of his attendants to fetch a magician, who\ndwelt near one of the city gates, to remove the spell which had been\ncast by some evil genius.\n\n'It is your own fault,' said the magician, when he had heard the\nsultan's story. 'If you had not broken your promise to the young man,\nyour daughter would not have had this ill befall her. Now there is\nonly one remedy, and the bridegroom you have chosen must yield his\nplace to the bald-headed youth.'\n\nSore though he was in his heart, the sultan knew that the magician was\nwiser than he, and despatched his most trusted servants to seek out\nthe young man without a moment's delay and bring him to the palace.\nThe youth, who all this time had been hiding behind a pillar, smiled\nto himself when he heard these words, and, hastening home, he said to\nhis mother: 'If messengers from the sultan should come here and ask\nfor me, be sure you answer that it is a long while since I went away,\nand that you cannot tell where I may be, but that if they will give\nyou money enough for your journey, as you are very poor, you will do\nyour best to find me.' Then he hid himself in the loft above, so that\nhe could listen to all that passed.\n\nThe next minute someone knocked loudly at the door, and the old woman\njumped up and opened it.\n\n'Is your bald-headed son here?' asked the man outside. 'If so, let him\ncome with me, as the sultan wishes to speak with him directly.'\n\n'Alas! sir,' replied the woman, putting a corner of her veil to her\neyes, 'he left me long since, and since that day no news of him has\nreached me.'\n\n'Oh! good lady, can you not guess where he may be? The sultan intends\nto bestow on him the hand of his daughter, and he is certain to give a\nlarge reward to the man who brings him back.'\n\n'He never told me whither he was going,' answered the crone, shaking\nher head. 'But it is a great honour that the sultan does him, and well\nworth some trouble. There _are_ places where, perhaps, he may be\nfound, but they are known to me only, and I am a poor woman and have\nno money for the journey.'\n\n'Oh! that will not stand in the way,' cried the man. 'In this purse\nare a thousand gold pieces; spend them freely. Tell me where I can\nfind him and you shall have as many more.'\n\n'Very well,' said she, 'it is a bargain; and now farewell, for I must\nmake some preparations; but in a few days at furthest you shall hear\nfrom me.'\n\nFor nearly a week both the old woman and her son were careful not to\nleave the house till it was dark, lest they should be seen by any of\nthe neighbours, and as they did not even kindle a fire or light a\nlantern, everyone supposed that the cottage was deserted. At length\none fine morning, the young man got up early and dressed himself, and\nput on his best turban, and after a hasty breakfast took the road to\nthe palace.\n\nThe huge negro before the door evidently expected him, for without a\nword he let him pass, and another attendant who was waiting inside\nconducted him straight into the presence of the sultan, who welcomed\nhim gladly.\n\n'Ah, my son! where have you hidden yourself all this time?' said he.\nAnd the bald-headed man answered:\n\n'Oh, Sultan! Fairly I won your daughter, but you broke your word, and\nwould not give her to me. Then my home grew hateful to me, and I set\nout to wander through the world! But now that you have repented of\nyour ill-faith, I have come to claim the wife who is mine of right.\nTherefore bid your wizir prepare the contract.'\n\nSo a fresh contract was prepared, and at the wish of the new\nbridegroom was signed by the sultan and the wizir in the chamber where\nthey met. After this was done, the youth begged the sultan to lead him\nto the princess, and together they entered the big hall, where\neveryone was standing exactly as they were when the young man had\nuttered the fatal word.\n\n'Can you remove the spell?' asked the sultan anxiously.\n\n'I think so,' replied the young man (who, to say the truth, was a\nlittle anxious himself), and stepping forward, he cried:\n\n'Let the victims of Madschun be free!'\n\nNo sooner were the words uttered than the statues returned to life,\nand the bride placed her hand joyfully in that of her new bridegroom.\nAs for the old one, he vanished completely, and no one ever knew what\nbecame of him.\n\n(Adapted from _Tuerkische Volksmaerchen aus Stambul_. Dr. Ignaz Kuenos.\nE. J. Brill, Leiden.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE BLUE PARROT_\n\n\nIn a part of Arabia where groves of palms and sweet-scented flowers\ngive the traveller rest after toilsome journeys under burning skies,\nthere reigned a young king whose name was Lino. He had grown up under\nthe wise rule of his father, who had lately died, and though he was\nonly nineteen, he did not believe, like many young men, that he must\nchange all the laws in order to show how clever he was, but was\ncontent with the old ones which had made the people happy and the\ncountry prosperous. There was only one fault that his subjects had to\nfind with him, and that was that he did not seem in any hurry to be\nmarried, in spite of the prayers that they frequently offered him.\n\nThe neighbouring kingdom was governed by the Swan fairy, who had an\nonly daughter, the Princess Hermosa, who was as charming in her way as\nLino in his. The Swan fairy always had an ambassador at the young\nking's court, and on hearing the grumbles of the citizens that Lino\nshowed no signs of taking a wife, the good man resolved that _he_\nwould try his hand at match-making. 'For,' he said, 'if there is any\none living who is worthy of the Princess Hermosa he is to be found\nhere. At any rate, I can but try and bring them together.'\n\nNow, of course, it was not proper to offer the princess in marriage,\nand the difficulty was to work upon the unconscious king so as to get\nthe proposal to come from _him_. But the ambassador was well used to\nthe ways of courts, and after several conversations on the art of\npainting, which Lino loved, he led the talk to portraits, and\nmentioned carelessly that a particularly fine picture had lately been\nmade of his own princess. 'Though, as for a likeness,' he concluded,\n'perhaps it is hardly as good as this small miniature, which was\npainted a year ago.'\n\nThe king took it, and looked at it closely.\n\n'Ah!' he sighed, 'that must be flattered! It cannot be possible that\nany woman should be such a miracle of beauty.'\n\n'If you could only see her,' answered the ambassador.\n\nThe king did not reply, but the ambassador was not at all surprised\nwhen, the following morning, he was sent for into the royal presence.\n\n'Since you showed me that picture,' began Lino, almost before the door\nwas shut, 'I have not been able to banish the face of the princess\nfrom my thoughts. I have summoned you here to inform you that I am\nabout to send special envoys to the court of the Swan fairy, asking\nher daughter in marriage.'\n\n'I cannot, as you will understand, speak for my mistress in so\nimportant a matter,' replied the ambassador, stroking his beard in\norder to conceal the satisfaction he felt. 'But I know that she will\ncertainly be highly gratified at your proposal.'\n\n'If that is so,' cried the king, his whole face beaming with joy,\n'then, instead of sending envoys, I will go myself, and take you with\nme. In three days my preparations will be made, and we will set out.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nUnluckily for Lino, he had for his neighbour on the other side a\npowerful magician named Ismenor, who was king of the Isle of Lions,\nand the father of a hideous daughter, whom he thought the most\nbeautiful creature that ever existed. Riquette, for such was her name,\nhad also fallen in love with a portrait, but it was of King Lino, and\nshe implored her father to give him to her for a husband. Ismenor, who\nconsidered that no man lived who was worthy of his treasure, was about\nto send his chief minister to King Lino on this mission, when the news\nreached him that the king had already started for the court of the\nSwan fairy. Riquette was thrown into transports of grief, and implored\nher father to prevent the marriage, which Ismenor promised to do; and\ncalling for an ugly and humpbacked little dwarf named Rabot, he\nperformed some spells which transported them quickly to a rocky valley\nthrough which the king and his escort were bound to pass. When the\ntramp of horses was heard, the magician took out an enchanted\nhandkerchief, which rendered invisible any one who touched it. Giving\none end to Rabot, and holding the other himself, they walked unseen\namongst the horsemen, but not a trace of Lino was to be found. And\nthis was natural enough, because the king, tired out with the\nexcitement and fatigue of the last few days, had bidden the heavy\ncoaches, laden with presents for the princess, to go forwards, while\nhe rested under the palms with a few of his friends. Here Ismenor\nbeheld them, all sound asleep; and casting a spell which prevented\ntheir waking till he wished them to do so, he stripped the king of all\nhis clothes and dressed him in those of Rabot, whom he touched with\nhis ring, saying:\n\n'Take the shape of Lino until you have wedded the daughter of the Swan\nfairy.'\n\nAnd so great was the magician's power that Rabot positively believed\nhimself to be really the king!\n\nWhen the groom had mounted Lino's horse, and had ridden out of sight,\nIsmenor aroused the king, who stared with astonishment at the dirty\ngarments in which he was dressed; but before he had time to look about\nhim, the magician caught him up in a cloud, and carried him off to his\ndaughter.\n\nMeantime Rabot had come up with the others, who never guessed for a\nmoment that he was not their own master.\n\n'I am hungry,' said he, 'give me something to eat at once.'\n\n'May it please your majesty,' answered the steward, 'the tents are not\neven set up, and it will be at least an hour before your supper is\nserved! We thought----'\n\n'Who taught you to think?' interrupted the false king rudely. 'You are\nnothing but a fool! Get me some horse's flesh directly--it is the best\nmeat in the world!'\n\nThe steward could hardly believe his ears. King Lino, the most polite\nman under the sun, to speak to his faithful servant in such a manner!\nAnd to want horse's flesh too! Why he was so delicate in his appetite\nthat he lived mostly on fruit and cakes. Well, well, there was no\nknowing what people would come to; and, anyhow, he must obey at once,\nif he wished to keep his head on his shoulders. Perhaps, after all, it\nwas love which had driven him mad, and, if so, by-and-by he might come\nright again.\n\nWhatever excuses his old servants might invent for their master, by\nthe time the procession reached the Swan's fairy capital there were no\nmore horses left, and they were forced to walk up to the palace on\nfoot. Hiding their surprise as best they could, they begged the king\nto follow them, dismounting from their own horses, as he, they\nsupposed, preferred to walk. They soon perceived the Swan fairy and\nher daughter awaiting them on a low balcony, under which the king\nstopped.\n\n'Madam,' he said, 'you may be surprised that I have come to ask your\ndaughter's hand in so unceremonious a fashion; but the journey is\nlong, and I was hungry and ate my horse, which is the best meat in the\nworld; and I forced my courtiers to eat theirs also. But for all that\nI am a great king, and wish to be your son-in-law. And now that is\nsettled, where is Hermosa?'\n\n  [Illustration: ISMENOR BRINGS LINO TO RIQUETTE]\n\n'Sire,' answered the queen, not a little displeased as well as\namazed at the king's manner, which was so different from anything she\nhad been led to expect. 'You possess my daughter's portrait, and it\ncan have made but little impression on you if you don't recognise her\nat once.'\n\n'I don't remember any portrait,' replied Rabot; 'but perhaps it may be\nin my pocket after all.' And he searched everywhere, while the\nladies-in-waiting looked on with astonishment, but of course found\nnothing. When he had finished he turned to the princess, who stood\nthere blushing and angry, and said:\n\n'If it is you whom I have come to marry, I think you are very\nbeautiful, and I am sure if I had even seen your portrait I should\nhave remembered it. Let us have the wedding as soon as possible; and,\nmeantime, I should like to go to sleep, for your country is very\ndifferent from mine, and I can assure you that after walking over\nstones and sand for days and days one needs a little rest.'\n\nAnd without waiting for a reply he bade one of the pages conduct him\nto his room, where he was soon snoring so loud that he could be heard\nat the other end of the town.\n\nAs soon as he was out of their sight the poor princess flung herself\ninto her mother's arms, and burst into tears. For fifteen days she had\nhad King Lino's portrait constantly before her, while the letter from\ntheir own ambassador speaking of the young man's grace and charm had\nnever left her pocket. True, the portrait was faithful enough, but how\ncould that fair outside contain so rough and rude a soul? Yet this\neven she might have forgiven had the king shown any of the signs of\nlove and admiration to which she had been so long accustomed. As for\nher mother, the poor Swan fairy was so bewildered at the extraordinary\nmanners of her new son-in-law, that she was almost speechless.\n\nMatters were in this state when King Lino's chamberlain begged for a\nprivate audience of her majesty, and no sooner were they alone than he\ntold her that he feared that his master had suddenly gone mad, or had\nfallen under the spell of some magician.\n\n'I had been lost in astonishment before,' said he, 'but now that he\nhas failed to recognise the princess, and no longer possesses her\nportrait, which he never would part from for a single instant, my\namazement knows no bounds. Perhaps, madam, your fairy gifts may be\nable to discover the reason of this change in one whose courtesy was\nthe talk of the kingdom.' And with a low bow he took his departure.\n\nThe queen stood where the chamberlain left her, thinking deeply.\nSuddenly her face cleared, and going to an old chest which she kept in\na secret room, she drew from it a small mirror. In this mirror she\ncould see faithfully reflected whatever she wished, and at this moment\nshe desired above all things to behold King Lino _as he really was_.\n\nAh! the chamberlain was right! It was not he who was lying on his bed\nsnoring till the whole palace shook beneath him. No, _this_ was her\nreal son-in-law--the man dressed in dirty clothes, and imprisoned in\none of Ismenor's strongest towers, and kissing the portrait of\nHermosa, which had escaped the wizard's notice, owing to the young\nking having worn it, for better concealment, tied amongst his hair.\nCalling hastily to her daughter, she bade her also look, and Hermosa\nhad the pleasure of gazing on Lino, who was behaving exactly as she\ncould have wished. The mirror was still in her hand when the door of\nthe prison opened, and there entered the hideous Riquette, who, from\nher upraised eyes, seemed to be begging from Lino some favour which he\nrefused to grant. Of course Hermosa and her mother could not hear\ntheir words, but from Riquette's angry face as she left the room, it\nwas not difficult to guess what had happened. But the mirror had more\nto tell, for it appeared that in fury at her rejection by the king,\nRiquette had ordered four strong men to scourge him till he fainted,\nwhich was done in the sight of Hermosa, who in horror dropped the\nmirror, and would have fallen, had she not been caught by her mother.\n\n'Control yourself, my child,' said the fairy. 'We have need of all our\nwits if we are to rescue the king from the power of those wicked\npeople. And first it is necessary to know who the man that has taken\nhis name and his face really is.'\n\nThen, picking up the mirror, she wished that she might behold the\nfalse lover; and the glass gave back a vision of a dirty, greasy\ngroom, lying, dressed as he was, on her bed of state.\n\n'So this is the trick Ismenor hoped to play us! Well, we will have our\nrevenge, whatever it costs us to get it. Only we must be very careful\nnot to let him guess that he has not deceived us, for his skill in\nmagic is greater than mine, and I shall have to be very prudent. To\nbegin with, I must leave you, and if the false king asks why, then\nanswer that I have to settle some affairs on the borders of my\nkingdom. Meanwhile, be sure you treat him most politely, and arrange\nfetes to amuse him. If he shows any sign of being suspicious, you can\neven give him to understand that, on your marriage, I intend to give\nup the crown to your husband. And now farewell!' So saying, the Swan\nfairy waved her hand, and a cloud came down and concealed her, and\nnobody imagined that the beautiful white cloud that was blown so\nrapidly across the sky was the chariot that was carrying the Swan\nfairy to the tower of Ismenor.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow the tower was situated in the midst of a forest, so the queen\nthought that, under cover of the dark trees, it would be quite easy\nfor her to drop to earth unseen. But the tower was so thoroughly\nenchanted that the more she tried to reach the ground the tighter\nsomething tried to hold her back. At length, by putting forth all the\npower she possessed, she managed to descend to the foot of the tower,\nand there, weak and faint as she was with her exertions, she lost no\ntime in working her spells, and found that she could only overcome\nIsmenor by means of a stone from the ring of Gyges. But how was she to\nget this ring? for the magic book told her that Ismenor guarded it\nnight and day among his most precious treasures. However, get it she\nmust, and in the meantime the first step was to see the royal prisoner\nhimself. So, drawing out her tablets, she wrote as follows:\n\n  [Illustration: THE SWALLOW BRINGS THE NOTE TO LINO]\n\n'The bird which brings you this letter is the Swan fairy, mother of\nHermosa, who loves you as much as you love her!' And after this\nassurance, she related the wicked plot of which he had been the\nvictim. Then, quickly changing herself into a swallow, she began to\nfly round the tower, till she discovered the window of Lino's prison.\nIt was so high up that bars seemed needless, especially as four\nsoldiers were stationed in the passage outside, therefore the fairy\nwas able to enter, and even to hop on his shoulder, but he was so much\noccupied with gazing at the princess's portrait that it was some time\nbefore she could attract his attention. At last she gently scratched\nhis cheek with the corner of the note, and he looked round with a\nstart. On perceiving the swallow he knew at once that help had come,\nand tearing open the letter, he wept with joy on seeing the words it\ncontained, and asked a thousand questions as to Hermosa, which the\nswallow was unable to answer, though, by repeated nods, she signed to\nhim to read further. 'Must I indeed pretend to wish to marry that\nhorrible Riquette?' he cried, when he had finished. 'Can I obtain the\nstone from the magician?'\n\nAccordingly the next morning, when Riquette paid him her daily visit,\nhe received her much more graciously than usual. The magician's\ndaughter could not contain her delight at this change, and in answer\nto her expressions of joy, Lino told her that he had had a dream by\nwhich he had learned the inconstancy of Hermosa; also that a fairy had\nappeared and informed him that if he wished to break the bonds which\nbound him to the faithless princess and transfer his affections to the\ndaughter of Ismenor, he must have in his possession for a day and a\nnight a stone from the ring of Gyges, now in the possession of the\nmagician. This news so enchanted Riquette, that she flung her arms\nround the king's neck and embraced him tenderly, greatly to his\ndisgust, as he would infinitely have preferred the sticks of the\nsoldiers. However, there was no help for it, and he did his best to\nseem pleased, till Riquette relieved him by announcing that she must\nlose no time in asking her father and obtaining from him the precious\nstone.\n\nHis daughter's request came as a great surprise to Ismenor, whose\nsuspicions were instantly excited; but, think as he would, he could\nnot see any means by which the king, so closely guarded, might have\nheld communication with the Swan fairy. Still, he would do nothing\nhastily, and, hiding his dismay, he told Riquette that his only wish\nwas to make her happy, and that as she wished so much for the stone he\nwould fetch it for her. Then he went into the closet where all his\nspells were worked, and in a short time he discovered that his enemy\nthe Swan fairy was at that moment inside his palace.\n\n'So that is it!' he said, smiling grimly. 'Well, she shall have a\nstone by all means, but a stone that will turn everyone who touches it\ninto marble.' And placing a small ruby in a box, he returned to his\ndaughter.\n\n'Here is the talisman which will gain you the love of King Lino,' he\nsaid; 'but be sure you give him the box unopened, or else the stone\nwill lose all its virtue.' With a cry of joy Riquette snatched the box\nfrom his hands, and ran off to the prison, followed by her father,\nwho, holding tightly the enchanted handkerchief, was able, unseen, to\nwatch the working of the spell. As he expected, at the foot of the\ntower stood the Swan fairy, who had had the imprudence to appear in\nher natural shape, waiting for the stone which the prince was to throw\nto her. Eagerly she caught the box as it fell from the prince's hands,\nbut no sooner had her fingers touched the ruby, than a curious\nhardening came over her, her limbs stiffened, and her tongue could\nhardly utter the words 'We are betrayed.'\n\n'Yes, you _are_ betrayed,' cried Ismenor, in a terrible voice; 'and\n_you_,' he continued, dragging the king to the window, 'you shall turn\ninto a parrot, and a parrot you will remain until you can persuade\nHermosa to crush in your head.'\n\nHe had hardly finished before a blue parrot flew out into the forest;\nand the magician, mounting in his winged chariot, set off for the Isle\nof Swans, where he changed everybody into statues, exactly in the\npositions in which he found them, not even excepting Rabot himself.\nOnly Hermosa was spared, and her he ordered to get into his chariot\nbeside him. In a few minutes he reached the Forest of Wonders, when\nthe magician got down, and dragged the unhappy princess out after him.\n\n'I have changed your mother into a stone, and your lover into a\nparrot,' said he, 'and you are to become a tree, and a tree you will\nremain until you have crushed the head of the person you love best in\nthe world. But I will leave you your mind and memory, that your\ntortures may be increased a thousand-fold.'\n\nGreat magician as he was, Ismenor could not have invented a more\nterrible fate had he tried for a hundred years. The hours passed\nwearily by for the poor princess, who longed for a wood-cutter's axe\nto put an end to her misery. How were they to be delivered from their\ndoom? And even supposing that King Lino _did_ fly that way, there were\nthousands of blue parrots in the forest, and how was she to know him,\nor he her? As to her mother--ah! that was too bad to think about! So,\nbeing a woman, she kept on thinking.\n\nMeanwhile the blue parrot flew about the world, making friends\nwherever he went, till, one day, he entered the castle of an old\nwizard who had just married a beautiful young wife. Grenadine, for\nsuch was her name, led a very dull life, and was delighted to have a\nplayfellow, so she gave him a golden cage to sleep in, and delicious\nfruits to eat. Only in one way did he disappoint her--he never would\ntalk as other parrots did.\n\n'If you only knew how happy it would make me, I'm sure you would try,'\nshe was fond of saying; but the parrot did not seem to hear her.\n\nOne morning, however, she left the room to gather some flowers, and\nthe parrot, finding himself alone, hopped to the table, and, picking\nup a pencil, wrote some verses on a piece of paper. He had just\nfinished when he was startled by a noise, and letting fall the pencil,\nhe flew out of the window.\n\nNow hardly had he dropped the pencil when the wizard lifted a corner\nof the curtain which hung over the doorway, and advanced into the\nroom. Seeing a paper on the table, he picked it up, and great was his\nsurprise as he read:\n\n    'Fair princess, to win your grace,\n      I will hold discourse with you;\n    Silence, though, were more in place\n      Than chatt'ring like a cockatoo.'\n\n'I half suspected it was enchanted,' murmured the wizard to himself.\nAnd he fetched his books and searched them, and found that instead of\nbeing a parrot, the bird was really a king who had fallen under the\nwrath of a magician, and that magician the man whom the wizard hated\nmost in the world. Eagerly he read on, seeking for some means of\nbreaking the enchantment, and at last, to his great joy, he discovered\nthe remedy. Then he hurried to his wife, who was lying on some\ncushions under the tree on which the parrot had perched, and informed\nher that her favourite was really the king of a great country, and\nthat, if she would whistle for the bird, they would all go together to\na certain spot in the Forest of Marvels, 'where I will restore him to\nhis own shape. Only you must not be afraid or cry out, whatever I do,'\nadded he, 'or everything will be spoilt.' The wizard's wife jumped up\nin an instant, so delighted was she, and began to whistle the song\nthat the parrot loved; but as he did not wish it to be known that he\nhad been listening to the conversation he waited until she had turned\nher back, when he flew down the tree and alighted on her shoulder.\nThen they got into a golden boat, which carried them to a clearing in\nthe forest, where three tall trees stood by themselves.\n\n  [Illustration: THE MAGICIAN'S WIFE WHISTLES TO THE PARROT]\n\n'I want these trees for my magic fire,' he said to his wife; 'put\nthe parrot on that branch, he will be quite safe, and go yourself to a\nlittle distance. If you stay too near you may get your head crushed in\ntheir fall.'\n\nAt these words the parrot suddenly remembered the prophecy of Ismenor,\nand held himself ready, his heart beating at the thought that in one\nof those trees he beheld Hermosa. Meanwhile the magician took a spade,\nand loosened the earth of the roots of the three trees so that they\nmight fall all together. Directly the parrot observed them totter he\nspread his wings and flew right under the middle one, which was the\nmost beautiful of the three. There was a crash, then Lino and Hermosa\nstood facing each other, clasped hand in hand.\n\nAfter the first few moments, the princess's thoughts turned to her\nmother, and falling at the feet of the magician, who was smiling with\ndelight at the success of his plan, she implored him to help them once\nmore, and to give the Swan fairy back her proper shape.\n\n'That is not so easy,' said he, 'but I will try what I can do.' And\ntransporting himself to his palace to obtain a little bottle of\npoisoned water, he waited till nightfall, and started at once for\nIsmenor's tower. Of course, had Ismenor consulted his books he would\nhave seen what his enemy was doing, he might have protected himself;\nbut he had been eating and drinking too much, and had gone to bed,\nsleeping heavily. Changing himself into a bat, the magician flew into\nthe room, and hiding himself in the curtains, he poured all the liquid\nover Ismenor's face, so that he died without a groan. At the same\ninstant the Swan fairy became a woman again, for no magician, however\npowerful, can work spells which last beyond his own life.\n\nSo when the Swan fairy returned to her capital she found all her\ncourtiers waiting at the gate to receive her, and in their midst,\nbeaming with happiness, Hermosa and King Lino. Standing behind them,\nthough a long way off, was Rabot; but his dirty clothes had given\nplace to clean ones, when his earnest desire was granted, and the\nprincess had made him head of her stables.\n\nAnd here we must bid them all farewell, feeling sure they will have\nmany years of happiness before them after the terrible trials through\nwhich they have passed.\n\n(Adapted and shortened from _Le Cabinet des Fees_.)\n\n\n\n\n_GEIRLAUG THE KING'S DAUGHTER_\n\n\nOne day a powerful king and his beautiful wife were sitting in the\ngardens of their capital city, talking earnestly about the future life\nof their little son, who was sleeping by their side in his beautiful\ngolden cradle. They had been married for many years without children,\nso when this baby came they thought themselves the happiest couple in\nthe whole world. He was a fine sturdy little boy, who loved to kick\nand to strike out with his fists; but even if he had been weak and\nsmall they would still have thought him the most wonderful creature\nupon earth, and so absorbed were they in making plans for him, that\nthey never noticed a huge dark shadow creeping up, till a horrible\nhead with gleaming teeth stretched over them, and in an instant their\nbeloved baby was snatched away.\n\nFor a while the king and queen remained where they were, speechless\nwith horror. Then the king rose slowly, and holding out his hand to\nhis wife, led her weeping into the palace, and for many days their\nsubjects saw no more of them.\n\nMeanwhile the dragon soared high into the air, holding the cradle\nbetween his teeth, and the baby still slept on. He flew so fast that\nhe soon crossed the borders of another kingdom, and again he beheld\nthe king and queen of the country seated in the garden with a little\ngirl lying in a wonderful cradle of white satin and lace. Swooping\ndown from behind as he had done before, he was just about to seize the\ncradle, when the king jumped up and dealt him such a blow with his\ngolden staff that the dragon not only started back, but in his pain\nlet fall the boy, as he spread his wings and soared into the air away\nfrom all danger.\n\n'That was a narrow escape,' said the king, turning to his wife, who\nsat pale with fright, and clasping her baby tightly in her arms.\n'Frightful,' murmured the queen; 'but look, what is that glittering\nobject that is lying out there?' The king walked in the direction of\nher finger, and to his astonishment beheld another cradle and another\nbaby.\n\n'Ah! the monster must have stolen this as he sought to steal\nGeirlaug,' cried he. And stooping lower, he read some words that were\nwritten on the fine linen that was wound round the boy. 'This is\nGrethari, son of Grethari the king!' Unfortunately it happened that\nthe two neighbouring monarchs had had a serious quarrel, and for some\nyears had ceased holding communication with each other. So, instead of\nsending a messenger at once to Grethari to tell him of the safety of\nhis son, the king contented himself with adopting the baby, which was\nbrought up with Geirlaug the princess.\n\nFor a while things went well with the children, who were as happy as\nthe day was long, but at last there came a time when the queen could\nno more run races or play at hide-and-seek with them in the garden as\nshe was so fond of doing, but lay and watched them from a pile of soft\ncushions. By-and-by she gave up doing even that, and people in the\npalace spoke with low voices, and even Geirlaug and Grethari trod\ngently and moved quietly when they drew near her room. At length, one\nmorning, they were sent for by the king himself, who, his eyes red\nwith weeping, told them that the queen was dead.\n\n  [Illustration: THE DRAGON DISCOMFITED]\n\nGreat was the sorrow of the two children, for they had loved the\nqueen very dearly, and life seemed dull without her. But the\nlady-in-waiting who took care of them in the tower which had been\nbuilt for them while they were still babies, was kind and good, and\nwhen the king was busy or away in other parts of his kingdom she made\nthem quite happy, and saw that they were taught everything that a\nprince and princess ought to know. Thus two or three years passed,\nwhen, one day, as the children were anxiously awaiting their father's\nreturn from a distant city, there rode post haste into the courtyard\nof the palace a herald whom the king had sent before him, to say that\nhe was bringing back a new wife.\n\nNow, in itself, there was nothing very strange or dreadful in the fact\nthat the king should marry again, but, as the old lady-in-waiting soon\nguessed, the queen, in spite of her beauty, was a witch, and as it was\neasy to see that she was jealous of everyone who might gain power over\nher husband, it boded ill for Geirlaug and Grethari. The faithful\nwoman could not sleep for thinking about her charges, and her soul\nsank when, a few months after the marriage, war broke out with a\ncountry across the seas, and the king rode away at the head of his\ntroops. Then there happened what she had so long expected. One night,\nwhen, unlike her usual habit, she was sleeping soundly--afterwards she\nfelt sure that a drug had been put into her food--the witch came to\nthe tower. Exactly what she did there no one knew, but, when the sun\nrose, the beds of Grethari and Geirlaug were empty. At dawn the queen\nsummoned some of her guards, and told them that she had been warned in\na dream that some evil fate would befall her through a wild beast, and\nbade them go out and kill every animal within two miles of the palace.\nBut the only beasts they found were two black foals of wondrous\nbeauty, fitted for the king's riding; it seemed a pity to kill them,\nfor what harm could two little foals do anyone? So they let them run\naway, frisking over the plain, and returned to the palace.\n\n'Did you see _nothing_, really _nothing_?' asked the queen, when they\nagain appeared before her.\n\n'Nothing, your majesty,' they replied. But the queen did not believe\nthem, and when they were gone, she gave orders to her steward that at\nsupper the guards should be well plied with strong drink so that their\ntongues should be loosened, and, further, that he was to give heed to\ntheir babble, and report to her, whatever they might let fall.\n\n'Your majesty's commands have been obeyed,' said the steward when,\nlate in the evening, he begged admittance to the royal apartments;\n'but, after all, the men have told you the truth. I listened to their\ntalk from beginning to end, and nothing did they see save two black\nfoals.' He might have added more, but the look in the queen's blazing\neyes terrified him, and, bowing hastily, he backed quickly out of her\npresence.\n\nIn a week's time the king came home, and right glad were all the\ncourtiers to see him.\n\n'Now, perhaps, she will find some one else to scream at,' whispered\nthey amongst themselves. 'She' was the queen, who had vented her rage\non her attendants during these days, though what had happened to make\nher so angry nobody knew. But whatever might be the meaning of it,\nthings would be sure to improve with the king to rule in the palace\ninstead of his wife. Unfortunately, their joy only lasted a short\nwhile; for the very first night after the king's arrival the queen\nrelated the evil dream she had dreamt in his absence, and begged him\nto go out the next morning and kill every living creature he saw\nwithin two miles of the city. The king, who always believed everything\nthe queen said, promised to do as she wished. But before he had ridden\nthrough the lovely gardens that surrounded the palace, he was\nattracted by the singing of two little blue birds perched on a\nscarlet-berried holly, which made him think of everything beautiful\nthat he had ever heard of or imagined. Hour after hour passed by, and\nstill the birds sang, and still the king listened, though of course he\nnever guessed that it was Geirlaug and Grethari whose notes filled him\nwith enchantment. At length darkness fell; the birds' voices were\nhushed, and the king awoke with a start to find that for that day his\npromise to the queen could not be kept.\n\n'Well! did you see anything?' she asked eagerly, when the king entered\nher apartments.\n\n'Ah, my dear, I am almost ashamed to confess to you. But the fact is\nthat before I rode as far as the western gate the singing of two\nstrange little blue birds made me forget all else in the world. And\nyou will hardly believe it--but not until it grew dark did I remember\nwhere I was and what I should have been doing. However, to-morrow\nnothing shall hinder me from fulfilling your desires.'\n\n'There will be no to-morrow,' muttered the queen, as she turned away\nwith a curious glitter in her eyes. But the king did not hear her.\n\nThat night the king gave a great supper in the palace in honour of the\nvictory he had gained over the enemy. The three men whom the queen had\nsent forth to slay the wild beasts held positions of trust in the\nhousehold, for to them was committed the custody of the queen's\nperson. And on the occasion of a feast their places were always next\nthat of the king, so it was easy for the queen to scatter a slow but\nfatal poison in their cups without anyone being the wiser. Before dawn\nthe palace was roused by the news that the king was dead, and that the\nthree officers of the guards were dying also. Of course nobody's cries\nand laments were as loud as those of the queen. But when once the\nsplendid funeral was over, she gave out that she was going to shut\nherself up in a distant castle till the year of her mourning was over,\nand after appointing a regent of the kingdom, she set out attended\nonly by a maid who knew all her secrets. Once she had left the palace\nshe quickly began to work her spells, to discover under what form\nGeirlaug and Grethari lay hidden. Happily, the princess had studied\nmagic under a former governess, so was able to fathom her\nstep-mother's wicked plot, and hastily changed herself into a whale,\nand her foster-brother into its fin. Then the queen took the shape of\na shark and gave chase.\n\nFor several hours a fierce battle raged between the whale and the\nshark, and the sea around was red with blood; first one of the\ncombatants got the better, and then the other, but at length it became\nplain to the crowd of little fishes gathered round to watch, that the\nvictory would be to the whale. And so it was. But when, after a mighty\nstruggle, the shark floated dead and harmless on the surface of the\nwater, the whale was so exhausted that she had only strength enough to\ndrag her wounded body into a quiet little bay, and for three days she\nremained there as still and motionless as if she had been dead\nherself. At the end of the three days her wounds were healed, and she\nbegan to think what it was best to do.\n\n'Let us go back to your father's kingdom,' she said to Grethari, when\nthey had both resumed their proper shapes, and were sitting on a high\ncliff above the sea.\n\n'How clever you are! I never should have thought of that!' answered\nGrethari, who, in truth, was not clever at all. But Geirlaug took a\nsmall box of white powder from her dress, and sprinkled some over him\nand some over herself, and, quicker than lightning, they found\nthemselves in the palace grounds from which Grethari had been carried\noff by the dragon so many years before.\n\n'Now take up the band with the golden letters and bind it about your\nforehead,' said Geirlaug, 'and go boldly up to the castle. And,\nremember, however great may be your thirst, you must drink nothing\ntill you have first spoken to your father. If you do, ill will befall\nus both.'\n\n'_Why_ should I be thirsty?' replied Grethari, staring at her in\nastonishment. 'It will not take me five minutes to reach the castle\ngate.' Geirlaug held her peace, but her eyes had in them a sad look.\n'Good-bye,' she said at last, and she turned and kissed him.\n\nGrethari had spoken truly when he declared that he could easily get to\nthe castle in five minutes. At least, no one would have dreamed that\nit could possibly take any longer. Yet, to his surprise, the door\nwhich stood so widely open that he could see the colour of the\nhangings within never appeared to grow any nearer, while each moment\nthe sun burned more hotly, and his tongue was parched with thirst.\n\n'I don't understand! What _can_ be the matter with me--and why haven't\nI reached the castle long ago?' he murmured to himself, as his knees\nbegan to knock under him with fatigue, and his head to swim. For a few\nmore paces he staggered on blindly, when, suddenly, the sound of\nrushing water smote upon his ears; and in a little wood that bordered\nthe path he beheld a stream falling over a rock. At this sight his\npromise to Geirlaug was forgotten. Fighting his way through the\nbrambles that tore his clothes, he cast himself down beside the\nfountain, and seizing the golden cup that hung from a tree, he drank a\ndeep draught.\n\nWhen he rose up the remembrance of Geirlaug and of his past life had\nvanished, and, instead, something stirred dimly within him at the\nvision of the white-haired man and woman who stood in the open door\nwith outstretched hands.\n\n'Grethari! Grethari! So you have come home at last,' cried they.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor three hours Geirlaug waited in the spot where Grethari had left\nher, and then she began to understand what had happened. Her heart was\nheavy, but she soon made up her mind what to do, and pushing her way\nout of the wood, she skirted the high wall that enclosed the royal\npark and gardens, till she reached a small house where the forester\nlived with his two daughters.\n\n'Do you want a girl to sweep, and to milk the cows?' asked she, when\none of the sisters answered her knock.\n\n'Yes, we do, very badly; and as you look strong and clean, we will\ntake you for a servant if you like to come,' replied the young woman.\n\n'But, first, what is your name?'\n\n'Lauphertha,' said Geirlaug quickly, for she did not wish anyone to\nknow who she was; and following her new mistress into the house, she\nbegged to be taught her work without delay. And so clever was she,\nthat, by-and-by, it began to be noised abroad that the strange girl\nwho had come to live in the forester's house had not her equal in the\nwhole kingdom for skill as well as beauty. Thus the years slipped\naway, during which Geirlaug grew to be a woman. Now and then she\ncaught glimpses of Grethari as he rode out to hunt in the forest, but\nwhen she saw him coming she hid herself behind the great trees, for\nher heart was still sore at his forgetfulness. One day, however, when\nshe was gathering herbs, he came upon her suddenly, before she had\ntime to escape, though as she had stained her face and hands brown,\nand covered her beautiful hair with a scarlet cap, he did not guess\nher to be his foster-sister.\n\n'What is your name, pretty maiden?' asked he.\n\n'Lauphertha,' answered the girl with a low curtesy.\n\n'Ah! it is you, then, of whom I have heard so much,' said he; 'you are\ntoo beautiful to spend your life serving the forester's daughters.\nCome with me to the palace, and my mother the queen will make you one\nof her ladies in waiting.'\n\n'Truly, that would be a great fortune,' replied the maiden. 'And, if\nyou really mean it, I will go with you. But how shall I know that you\nare not jesting?'\n\n'Give me something to do for you, and I will do it, whatever it is,'\ncried the young man eagerly. And she cast down her eyes, and answered:\n\n'Go to the stable, and bind the calf that is there so that it shall\nnot break loose in the night and wander away, for the forester and his\ndaughters have treated me well, and I would not leave them with aught\nof my work still undone.'\n\n  [Illustration: PULL AS HE MIGHT HE COULD NOT GET FREE]\n\nSo Grethari set out for the stable where the calf stood, and wound the\nrope about its horns. But when he had made it fast to the wall, he\nfound that a coil of the rope had twisted itself round his wrist, and,\npull as he might, he could not get free. All night he wriggled and\nstruggled till he was half dead with fatigue. But when the sun rose\nthe rope suddenly fell away from him, and, very angry with the maiden\nhe dragged himself back to the palace. 'She is a witch,' he muttered\ncrossly to himself, 'and I will have no more to do with her.' And he\nflung himself on his bed and slept all day.\n\nNot long after this adventure the king and queen sent their beloved\nson on an embassy to a neighbouring country to seek a bride from\namongst the seven princesses. The most beautiful of all was, of\ncourse, the one chosen, and the young pair took ship without delay for\nthe kingdom of the prince's parents. The wind was fair and the vessel\nso swift that, in less time than could have been expected, the harbour\nnearest the castle was reached. A splendid carriage had been left in\nreadiness close to the beach, but no horses were to be found, for\nevery one had been carried off to take part in a great review which\nthe king was to hold that day in honour of his son's marriage.\n\n'I can't stay here all day,' said the princess, crossly, when Grethari\ntold her of the plight they were in. 'I am perfectly worn out as it\nis, and you will have to find something to draw the carriage, if it is\nonly a donkey. If you don't, I will sail back straight to my father.'\n\nPoor Grethari was much troubled by the words of the princess. Not that\nhe felt so very much in love with her, for during the voyage she had\nshown him several times how vain and bad tempered she was; but as a\nprince and a bridegroom, he could not, of course, bear to think that\nany slight had been put upon her. So he hastily bade his attendants to\ngo in search of some animal, and bring it at once to the place at\nwhich they were waiting.\n\n  [Illustration: 'WILL YOU LEND ME YOUR OX, FAIR MAIDEN?']\n\nDuring the long pause the princess sat in the beautiful golden coach,\nher blue velvet mantle powdered with silver bees drawn closely round\nher, so that not even the tip of her nose could be seen. At length a\ngirl appeared driving a young ox in front of her, followed by one of\nthe prince's messengers, who was talking eagerly.\n\n'Will you lend me your ox, fair maiden?' asked Grethari, jumping up\nand going to meet them. 'You shall fix your own price, and it shall be\npaid ungrudgingly, for never before was king's son in such a plight.'\n\n'My price is seats for me and my two friends behind you and your bride\nat the wedding feast,' answered she. And to this Grethari joyfully\nconsented.\n\nSix horses would not have drawn the coach at the speed of this one ox.\nTrees and fields flew by so fast that the bride became quite giddy,\nand expected, besides, that they would be upset every moment. But, in\nspite of her fears, nothing happened, and they drew up in safety at\nthe door of the palace, to the great surprise of the king and queen.\nThe marriage preparations were hurried on, and by the end of the week\neverything was ready. It was, perhaps, fortunate that the princess was\ntoo busy with her clothes and her jewels during this period to pay\nmuch heed to Grethari, so that by the time the wedding day came round\nhe had almost forgotten how cross and rude she had been on the\njourney.\n\nThe oldest men and women in the town agreed that nothing so splendid\nhad ever been seen as the bridal procession to the great hall, where\nthe banquet was to be held, before the ceremony was celebrated in the\npalace. The princess was in high good humour, feeling that all eyes\nwere upon her, and bowed and smiled right and left. Taking the\nprince's hand, she sailed proudly down the room, where the guests were\nalready assembled, to her place at the head of the table by the side\nof the bridegroom. As she did so, three strange ladies in shining\ndresses of blue, green, and red, glided in and seated themselves on a\nvacant bench immediately behind the young couple. The red lady was\nGeirlaug, who had brought with her the forester's daughters, and in\none hand she held a wand of birch bark, and in the other a closed\nbasket.\n\nSilently they sat as the feast proceeded; hardly anyone noticed their\npresence, or, if they did, supposed them to be attendants of their\nfuture queen. Suddenly, when the merriment was at its height, Geirlaug\nopened the basket, and out flew a cock and hen. To the astonishment of\neveryone, the birds circled about in front of the royal pair, the cock\nplucking the feathers out of the tail of the hen, who tried in vain to\nescape from him.\n\n'Will you treat me as badly as Grethari treated Geirlaug?' cried the\nhen at last. And Grethari heard, and started up wildly. In an instant\nall the past rushed back to him; the princess by his side was\nforgotten, and he only saw the face of the child with whom he had\nplayed long years ago.\n\n'Where is Geirlaug?' he exclaimed, looking round the hall; and his\neyes fell upon the strange lady. With a smile she held out a ring\nwhich he had given her on her twelfth birthday, when they were still\nchildren, without a thought of the future. 'You and none other shall\nbe my wife,' he said, taking her hand, and leading her into the middle\nof the company.\n\nIt is not easy to describe the scene that followed. Of course, nobody\nunderstood what had occurred, and the king and queen imagined that\ntheir son had suddenly gone mad. As for the princess her rage and fury\nwere beyond belief. The guests left the hall as quickly as they could,\nso that the royal family might arrange their own affairs, and in the\nend it was settled that half the kingdom must be given to the despised\nprincess, instead of a husband. She sailed back at once to her\ncountry, where she was soon betrothed to a young noble, whom, in\nreality, she liked much better than Grethari. That evening Grethari\nwas married to Geirlaug, and they lived happily till they died, and\nmade all their people happy also.\n\n(From _Neuislaendischen Volksmaerchen_.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE STORY OF LITTLE KING LOC_\n\n\nTwo or three miles from the coast of France, anyone sailing in a ship\non a calm day can see deep, deep down, the trunks of great trees\nstanding up in the water. Many hundreds of years ago these trees\nformed part of a large forest, full of all sorts of wild animals, and\nbeyond the forest was a fine city, guarded by a castle in which dwelt\nthe Dukes of Clarides. But little by little the sea drew nearer to the\ntown; the foundations of the houses became undermined and fell in, and\nat length a shining sea flowed over the land. However, all this\nhappened a long time after the story I am going to tell you.\n\nThe Dukes of Clarides had always lived in the midst of their people,\nand protected them both in war and peace.\n\nAt the period when this tale begins the Duke Robert was dead, leaving\na young and beautiful duchess who ruled in his stead. Of course\neveryone expected her to marry again, but she refused all suitors who\nsought her hand, saying that, having only one soul she could have only\none husband, and that her baby daughter was quite enough for her.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne day, she was sitting in the tower, which looked out over a rocky\nheath, covered in summer with purple and yellow flowers, when she\nbeheld a troop of horsemen riding towards the castle. In the midst,\nseated on a white horse with black and silver trappings, was a lady\nwhom the duchess at once knew to be her friend the Countess of\nBlanchelande, a young widow like herself, mother of a little boy two\nyears older than Abeille des Clarides. The duchess hailed her arrival\nwith delight, but her joy was soon turned into weeping when the\ncountess sank down beside her on a pile of cushions, and told the\nreason of her visit.\n\n'As you know,' she said, taking her friend's hand and pressing it\nbetween her own, 'whenever a Countess of Blanchelande is about to die\nshe finds a white rose lying on her pillow. Last night I went to bed\nfeeling unusually happy, but this morning when I woke the rose was\nresting against my cheek. I have no one to help me in the world but\nyou, and I have come to ask if you will take Youri my son, and let him\nbe a brother to Abeille?'\n\nTears choked the voice of the duchess, but she flung herself on the\ncountess's neck, and pressed her close. Silently the two women took\nleave of each other, and silently the doomed lady mounted her horse\nand rode home again. Then, giving her sleeping boy into the care of\nFrancoeur, her steward, she laid herself quietly on her bed, where,\nthe next morning, they found her dead and peaceful.\n\nSo Youri and Abeille grew up side by side, and the duchess faithfully\nkept her promise, and was a mother to them both. As they got bigger\nshe often took them with her on her journeys through her duchy, and\ntaught them to know her people, and to pity and to aid them.\n\nIt was on one of these journeys that, after passing through meadows\ncovered with flowers, Youri caught sight of a great glittering expanse\nlying beneath some distant mountains.\n\n'What is that, godmother?' he asked, waving his hand. 'The shield of a\ngiant, I suppose.'\n\n'No; a silver plate as big as the moon!' said Abeille, twisting\nherself round on her pony.\n\n'It is neither a silver plate nor a giant's shield,' replied the\nduchess; 'but a beautiful lake. Still, in spite of its beauty, it is\ndangerous to go near it, for in its depths dwell some Undines, or\nwater spirits, who lure all passers-by to their deaths.'\n\nNothing more was said about the lake, but the children did not forget\nit, and one morning, after they had returned to the castle, Abeille\ncame up to Youri.\n\n'The tower door is open,' whispered she; 'let us go up. Perhaps we\nshall find some fairies.'\n\nBut they did not find any fairies; only, when they reached the roof,\nthe lake looked bluer and more enchanting than ever. Abeille gazed at\nit for a moment, and then she said:\n\n'Do you see? I mean to go there!'\n\n'But you mustn't,' cried Youri. 'You heard what your mother said. And,\nbesides, it is so far; how could we get there?'\n\n'_You_ ought to know that,' answered Abeille scornfully. 'What is the\ngood of being a man, and learning all sorts of things, if you have to\nask me. However, there are plenty of other men in the world, and I\nshall get one of them to tell me.'\n\nYouri coloured; Abeille had never spoken like this before, and,\ninstead of being two years younger than himself, she suddenly seemed\nmany years older. She stood with her mocking eyes fixed on him, till\nhe grew angry at being outdone by a girl, and taking her hand he said\nboldly:\n\n'Very well, we will _both_ go to the lake.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next afternoon, when the duchess was working at her tapestry\nsurrounded by her maidens, the children went out, as usual, to play in\nthe garden. The moment they found themselves alone, Youri turned to\nAbeille, and holding out his hand, said:\n\n'Come.'\n\n'Come where?' asked Abeille, opening her eyes very wide.\n\n'To the lake, of course,' answered the boy.\n\nAbeille was silent. It was one thing to pretend you meant to be\ndisobedient some day, a long time off, and quite another to start for\nsuch a distant place without anyone knowing that you had left the\ngarden. 'And in satin shoes, too! How stupid boys were to be sure.'\n\n'Stupid or not, I am going to the lake, and you are going with me!'\nsaid Youri, who had not forgotten or forgiven the look she had cast on\nhim the day before. 'Unless,' added he, 'you are afraid, and in that\ncase I shall go alone.'\n\nThis was too much for Abeille. Bursting into tears, she flung herself\non Youri's neck, and declared that wherever he went she would go too.\nSo, peace having been made between them, they set out.\n\n  [Illustration: ABEILLE FINDS HERSELF AMONG THE LITTLE MEN]\n\nIt was a hot day, and the townspeople were indoors waiting till the\nsun was low in the sky before they set out either to work or play, so\nthe children passed through the streets unperceived, and crossed the\nriver by the bridge into the flowery meadows along the road by which\nthey had ridden with the duchess. By-and-by Abeille began to feel\nthirsty, but the sun had drunk up all the water, and not a drop was\nleft for her. They walked on a little further, and by good luck found\na cherry-tree covered with ripe fruit, and after a rest and a\nrefreshing meal, they were sure that they were strong enough to reach\nthe lake in a few minutes. But soon Abeille began to limp and to say\nthat her foot hurt her, and Youri had to untie the ribbons that\nfastened her shoe and see what was the matter. A stone had got in, so\nthis was easily set right, and for a while they skipped along the path\nsinging and chattering, till Abeille stopped again. This time her shoe\nhad come off, and turning to pick it up she caught sight of the towers\nof the castle, looking such a long way off that her heart sank, and\nshe burst into tears.\n\n'It is getting dark, and the wolves will eat us,' sobbed she. But\nYouri put his arms round her and comforted her.\n\n'Why we are close to the lake now. There is nothing to be afraid of!\nWe shall be home again to supper,' cried he. And Abeille dried her\neyes, and trotted on beside him.\n\nYes, the lake was there, blue and silvery with purple and gold irises\ngrowing on its banks, and white water-lilies floated on its bosom. Not\na trace was there of a man, or of one of the great beasts so much\nfeared by Abeille, but only the marks of tiny forked feet on the sand.\nThe little girl at once pulled off her torn shoes and stockings and\nlet the water flow over her, while Youri looked about for some nuts or\nstrawberries. But none were to be found.\n\n'I noticed, a little way back, a clump of blackberry bushes,' said he.\n'Wait here for me, and I will go and gather some fruit, and after that\nwe will start home again.' And Abeille, leaning her head drowsily\nagainst a cushion of soft moss, murmured something in reply, and soon\nfell asleep. In her dream a crow, bearing the smallest man that ever\nwas seen, appeared hovering for a moment above her, and then vanished.\nAt the same instant Youri returned and placed by her side a large\nleaf-full of strawberries.\n\n'It is a pity to wake her just yet,' thought he, and wandered off\nbeyond a clump of silvery willows to a spot from which he could get a\nview of the whole lake. In the moonlight, the light mist that hung\nover the surface made it look like fairyland. Then gradually the\nsilver veil seemed to break up, and the shapes of fair women with\noutstretched hands and long green locks floated towards him. Seized\nwith a sudden fright, the boy turned to fly. But it was too late.\n\nUnconscious of the terrible doom that had befallen her\nfoster-brother, Abeille slept on, and did not awake even when a crowd\nof little men with white beards down to their knees came and stood in\na circle round her.\n\n'What shall we do with her?' asked Pic, who seemed older than any of\nthem, though they were all very old.\n\n'Build a cage and put her into it,' answered Rug.\n\n'No! No! What should such a beautiful princess do in a cage?' cried\nDig. And Tad, who was the kindest of them all, proposed to carry her\nhome to her parents. But the other gnomes were too pleased with their\nnew toy to listen to this for a moment.\n\n'Look, she is waking,' whispered Pau. And as he spoke Abeille slowly\nopened her eyes. At first she imagined she was still dreaming; but as\nthe little men did not move, it suddenly dawned upon her that they\nwere real, and starting to her feet, she called loudly:\n\n'Youri! Youri! Where are you?'\n\nAt the sound of her voice the gnomes only pressed more closely round\nher, and, trembling with fear, she hid her face in her hands. The\ngnomes were at first much puzzled to know what to do; then Tad,\nclimbing on a branch of the willow tree that hung over her, stooped\ndown, and gently stroked her fingers. The child understood that he\nmeant to be kind, and letting her hands fall, gazed at her captors.\nAfter an instant's pause she said:\n\n'Little men, it is a great pity that you are so ugly. But, all the\nsame, I will love you if you will only give me something to eat, as I\nam dying of hunger.'\n\nA rustle was heard among the group as she spoke. Some were very angry\nat being called ugly, and said she deserved no better fate than to be\nleft where she was. Others laughed, and declared that it did not\nmatter what a mere mortal thought about them; while Tad bade Bog,\ntheir messenger, fetch her some milk and honey, and the finest white\nbread that was made in their ovens under the earth. In less time than\nAbeille would have taken to tie her shoe he was back again, mounted on\nhis crow. And by the time she had eaten the bread and honey and drunk\nthe milk, Abeille was not frightened any more, and felt quite ready to\ntalk.\n\n'Little men,' she said, looking up with a smile, 'your supper was very\ngood, and I thank you for it. My name is Abeille, and my brother is\ncalled Youri. Help me to find him, and tell me which is the path that\nleads to the castle, for mother must think something dreadful has\nhappened to us!'\n\n'But your feet are so sore that you cannot walk,' answered Dig. 'And\nwe may not cross the bounds into your country. The best we can do is\nto make a litter of twigs and cover it with moss, and we will bear you\ninto the mountains, and present you to our king.'\n\nNow, many a little girl would have been terrified at the thought of\nbeing carried off alone, she did not know where. But Abeille, when she\nhad recovered from her first fright, was pleased at the notion of her\nstrange adventure.\n\n'How much she would have to tell her mother and Youri on her return.\nProbably _they_ would never go inside a mountain, if they lived to be\na hundred.' So she curled herself comfortably on her nest of moss, and\nwaited to see what would happen.\n\nUp, and up, and up they went; and by-and-by Abeille fell asleep again,\nand did not wake till the sun was shining. Up, and up, and up, for the\nlittle men could only walk very slowly, though they could spring over\nrocks quicker than any mortal. Suddenly the light that streamed\nthrough the branches of the litter began to change. It seemed hardly\nless bright, but it was certainly different; then the litter was put\ndown, and the gnomes crowded round and helped Abeille to step out of\nit.\n\nBefore her stood a little man not half her size, but splendidly\ndressed and full of dignity. On his head was a crown of such huge\ndiamonds that you wondered how his small body could support it. A\nroyal mantle fell from his shoulders, and in his hand he held a lance.\n\n'King Loc,' said one of the forest gnomes, 'we found this beautiful\nchild asleep by the lake, and have brought her to you. She says that\nher name is Abeille, and her mother is the Duchess des Clarides.'\n\n'You have done well,' answered the king; 'she shall be one of us.' And\nstanding on tiptoe, so that he could kiss her hand, he told her that\nthey would all take care of her and make her happy, and that anything\nshe wished for she should have at once.\n\n'I want a pair of shoes,' replied Abeille.\n\n'Shoes!' commanded the king, striking the ground with his lance; and\nimmediately a lovely pair of silver shoes embroidered with pearls were\nslipped on her feet by one of the gnomes.\n\n'They are beautiful shoes,' said Abeille rather doubtfully; 'but do\nyou think they will carry me all the way back to my mother?'\n\n'No, they are not meant for rough roads,' replied the king, 'but for\nwalking about the smooth paths of the mountain, for we have many\nwonders to show you.'\n\n'Little King Loc,' answered Abeille, 'take away these beautiful\nslippers and give me a pair of wooden shoes instead, and let me go\nback to my mother.' But King Loc only shook his head.\n\n'Little King Loc,' said Abeille again--and this time her voice\ntrembled--'let me go back to my mother and Youri, and I will love you\nwith all my heart, nearly as well as I love them.'\n\n'Who is Youri?' asked King Loc.\n\n'Why--Youri--who has lived with us since I was a baby,' replied\nAbeille; surprised that he did not know what everyone else was aware\nof, and never guessing that by mentioning the boy she was sealing her\nown fate. For King Loc had already thought what a good wife she would\nmake him in a few years' time, and he did not want Youri to come\nbetween them. So he was silent, and Abeille, seeing he was not\npleased, burst into tears.\n\n'Little King Loc,' she cried, taking hold of a corner of his mantle,\n'think how unhappy my mother will be. She will fancy that wild beasts\nhave eaten me, or that I have got drowned in the lake.'\n\n'Be comforted,' replied King Loc; 'I will send her a dream, so that\nshe shall know that you are safe.'\n\nAt this Abeille's sad face brightened. 'Little King Loc,' she said,\nsmiling, 'how clever you are! But you must send her a dream every\nnight, so that she shall see _me_--and _me_ a dream, so that I may see\nher.'\n\nAnd this King Loc promised to do.\n\nWhen Abeille grew accustomed to do without her mother and Youri, she\nmade herself happy enough in her new home. Everyone was kind to her,\nand petted her, and then there were such quantities of new things for\nher to see. The gnomes were always busy, and knew how to fashion\nbeautiful toys as well or better than the people who lived on the\nearth; and now and then, wandering with Tad or Dig in the underground\npassages, Abeille would catch a glimpse of blue sky through a rent in\nthe rocks, and this she loved best of all. In this manner six years\npassed away.\n\n'His Highness King Loc wishes to see you in his presence chamber,'\nsaid Tad, one morning, to Abeille, who was singing to herself on a\ngolden lute; and Abeille, wondering why the king had grown so formal\nall of a sudden, got up obediently. Directly she appeared, King Loc\nopened a door in the wall which led into his treasure chamber. Abeille\nhad never been there before, and was amazed at the splendid things\nheaped up before her. Gold, jewels, brocades, carpets, lay round the\nwalls, and she walked about examining one glittering object after\nanother, while King Loc mounted a throne of gold and ivory at one end\nof the hall, and watched her. 'Choose whatever you wish,' he said at\nlast. A necklace of most lovely pearls was hanging from the wall, and\nafter hesitating for a moment between that and a circlet of diamonds\nand sapphires, Abeille stretched up her hand towards it. But before\nshe touched it her eyes lighted on a tiny piece of sky visible through\na crack of the rock, and her hand dropped by her side. 'Little King\nLoc, let me go up to the earth once again,' she said.\n\nThen King Loc made a sign to the treasurer, who opened a coffer full\nof nothing but precious stones, larger and more dazzling than were\nworn by any earthly monarch. 'Choose what you will, Abeille,'\nwhispered King Loc.\n\nBut Abeille only shook her head.\n\n'A drop of dew in the garden at Clarides is brighter to me than the\nbest of those diamonds,' she answered, 'and the bluest of the stones\nare not as blue as the eyes of Youri.' And as she spoke a sharp pain\nran through the heart of King Loc. For an instant he said nothing,\nthen he lifted his head and looked at her. 'Only those who despise\nriches should possess them. Take this crown, from henceforth you are\nthe Princess of the Gnomes.'\n\nDuring thirty days no work was done in those underground regions, for\na feast was held in honour of the new princess. At the end of that\nperiod, the king appeared before Abeille, clad in his most splendid\ngarments, and solemnly asked her to be his wife.\n\n'Little King Loc,' answered the girl, 'I love you as you are, for your\ngoodness and kindness to me; but never, never can I love you as\nanything else.'\n\nThe king sighed. It was only what he had expected; still, his\ndisappointment was great, though he tried bravely to hide it, and even\nto smile as he said: 'Then, Abeille, will you promise me one thing? If\nthere should come a day when you find that there is somebody whom you\n_could_ love, will you tell me?'\n\nAnd in her turn Abeille promised.\n\nAfter this, in spite of the fact that everyone was just as kind to her\nas before, Abeille was no longer the merry child who passed all her\ndays playing with the little gnomes. People who dwell under the earth\ngrow up much faster than those who live on its surface, and, at\nthirteen, the girl was already a woman. Besides, King Loc's words had\nset her thinking; she spent many hours by herself, and her face was no\nlonger round and rosy, but thin and pale. It was in vain that the\ngnomes did their best to entice her into her old games, they had lost\ntheir interest, and even her lute lay unnoticed on the ground.\n\nBut one morning a change seemed to come over her. Leaving the room\nhung with beautiful silks, where she usually sat alone, she entered\nthe king's presence, and taking his hand she led him through long\ncorridors till they came to a place where a strip of blue sky was to\nbe seen.\n\n'Little King Loc,' she said, turning her eyes upon him, 'let me behold\nmy mother again, or I shall surely die.' Her voice shook, and her\nwhole body trembled. Even an enemy might have pitied her; but the\nking, who loved her, answered nothing. All day long Abeille stayed\nthere, watching the light fade, and the sky grow pale. By-and-by the\nstars came out, but the girl never moved from her place. Suddenly a\nhand touched her. She looked round with a start, and there was King\nLoc, covered from head to foot in a dark mantle, holding another over\nhis arm. 'Put on this and follow me,' was all he said. But Abeille\nsomehow knew that she was going to see her mother.\n\nOn, and on, and on they went, through passages where Abeille had never\nbeen before, and at length she was out in the world again. Oh! how\nbeautiful it all was! How fresh was the air, and how sweet was the\nsmell of the flowers! She felt as if she should die with joy, but at\nthat moment King Loc lifted her off the ground, and, tiny though he\nwas, carried her quite easily across the garden and through an open\ndoor into the silent castle.\n\n'Listen, Abeille,' he whispered softly. 'You have guessed where we are\ngoing, and you know that every night I send your mother a vision of\nyou, and she talks to it in her dream, and smiles at it. To-night it\nwill be no vision she sees, but you yourself; only remember, that if\nyou touch her or speak to her my power is lost, and never more will\nshe behold either you or your image.'\n\nBy this time they had reached the room which Abeille knew so well, and\nher heart beat violently as the gnome carried her over the threshold.\nBy the light of a lamp hanging over the bed Abeille could see her\nmother, beautiful still, but with a face that had grown pale and sad.\nAs she gazed the sadness vanished, and a bright smile came in its\nstead. Her mother's arms were stretched out towards her, and the girl,\nher eyes filled with tears of joy, was stooping to meet them, when\nKing Loc hastily snatched her up, and bore her back to the realm of\nthe gnomes.\n\nIf the king imagined that by granting Abeille's request he would make\nher happy, he soon found out his mistake, for all day long the girl\nsat weeping, paving no heed to the efforts of her friends to comfort\nher.\n\n'Tell me what is making you so unhappy?' said King Loc, at last. And\nAbeille answered:\n\n  [Illustration: KING LOC CARRIES ABEILLE AWAY FROM HER MOTHER]\n\n'Little King Loc, and all my friends here, you are so good and kind\nthat I know that you are miserable when I am in trouble. I would be\nhappy if I could, but it is stronger than I. I am weeping because I\nshall never see again Youri de Blanchelande, whom I love with all my\nheart. It is a worse grief than parting with my mother, for at least I\nknow where she is and what she is doing; while, as for Youri, I\ncannot tell if he is dead or alive.'\n\nThe gnomes were all silent. Kind as they were, they were not mortals,\nand had never felt either great joys or deep sorrows. Only King Loc\ndimly guessed at something of both, and he went away to consult an\nold, old gnome, who lived in the lowest depth of the mountain, and had\nspectacles of every sort, that enabled him to see all that was\nhappening, not only on the earth, but under the sea.\n\nNur, for such was his name, tried many of these spectacles before he\ncould discover anything about Youri de Blanchelande.\n\n'There he is!' he cried at last. 'He is sitting in the palace of the\nUndines, under the great lake; but he does not like his prison, and\nlongs to be back in the world, doing great deeds.'\n\nIt was true. In the seven years that had passed since he had left the\ncastle of Clarides to go with Abeille to the blue lake, Youri in his\nturn had become a man.\n\nThe older he grew the more weary he got of the petting and spoiling he\nreceived at the hands of the green-haired maidens, till, one day, he\nflung himself at the feet of the Undine queen, and implored permission\nto return to his old home.\n\nThe queen stooped down and stroked his hair.\n\n'We cannot spare you,' she murmured gently. 'Stay here, and you shall\nbe king, and marry me.'\n\n'But it is Abeille I want to marry,' said the youth boldly. But he\nmight as well have talked to the winds, for at last the queen grew\nangry, and ordered him to be put in a crystal cage which was built for\nhim round a pointed rock.\n\nIt was here that King Loc, aided by the spectacles of Nur, found him\nafter many weeks' journey. As we know, the gnomes walk slowly, and the\nway was long and difficult. Luckily, before he started, he had taken\nwith him his magic ring, and the moment it touched the wall the\ncrystal cage split from top to bottom.\n\n'Follow that path, and you will find yourself in the world again,' he\nsaid to Youri; and without waiting to listen to the young man's\nthanks, set out on the road he had come.\n\n'Bog,' he cried, to the little man on the crow, who had ridden to meet\nhim. 'Hasten to the palace and inform the Princess Abeille that Youri\nde Blanchelande, for seven years a captive in the kingdom of the\nUndines, has now returned to the castle of Clarides.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe first person whom Youri met as he came out of the mountain was the\ntailor who had made all his clothes from the time that he came to live\nat the castle. Of this old friend, who was nearly beside himself with\njoy at the sight of the little master, lost for so many years, the\ncount begged for news of his foster-mother and Abeille.\n\n'Alas! my lord, where can you have been that you do not know that the\nPrincess Abeille was carried off by the gnomes on the very day that\nyou disappeared yourself? At least, so we guess. Ah! that day has left\nmany a mark on our duchess! Yet she is not without a gleam of hope\nthat her daughter is living yet, for every night the poor mother is\nvisited by a dream which tells her all that the princess is doing.'\n\nThe good man went on to tell of all the changes that seven years had\nbrought about in the village, but Youri heard nothing that he said,\nfor his mind was busy with thoughts of Abeille.\n\n  [Illustration: 'STAY HERE AND YOU SHALL BE KING']\n\nAt length he roused himself, and ashamed of his delay, he hastened to\nthe chamber of the duchess, who held him in her arms as if she would\nnever let him go. By-and-by, however, when she became calmer, he began\nto question her about Abeille, and how best to deliver her from the\npower of the gnomes. The duchess then told him that she had sent out\nmen in all directions to look for the children directly they were\nfound to be missing, and that one of them had noticed a troop of\nlittle men far away on the mountains, evidently carrying a litter. He\nwas hastening after them, when, at his feet, he beheld a tiny satin\nslipper, which he stooped to pick up. But as he did so a dozen of the\ngnomes had swarmed upon him like flies, and beat him about the head\ntill he dropped the slipper, which they took away with them, leaving\nthe poor man dizzy with pain. When he recovered his senses the group\non the mountain had disappeared.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat night, when everyone was asleep, Youri and his old servant\nFrancoeur, stole softly down into the armoury, and dressed themselves\nin light suits of chain armour, with helmets and short swords, all\ncomplete. Then they mounted two horses that Francoeur had tied up in\nthe forest, and set forth for the kingdom of the gnomes. At the end of\nan hour's hard riding, they came to the cavern which Francoeur had\nheard from childhood led into the centre of the earth. Here they\ndismounted, and entered cautiously, expecting to find darkness as\nthick as what they had left outside. But they had only gone a few\nsteps when they were nearly blinded by a sudden blaze of light, which\nseemed to proceed from a sort of portcullis door, which barred the way\nin front of them.\n\n'Who are you?' asked a voice. And the count answered:\n\n'Youri de Blanchelande, who has come to rescue Abeille des Clarides.'\nAnd at these words the gate slowly swung open, and closed behind the\ntwo strangers.\n\nYouri listened to the clang with a spasm of fear in his heart; then\nthe desperate position he was in gave him courage. There was no\nretreat for him now, and in front was drawn up a large force of\ngnomes, whose arrows were falling like hail about him. He raised his\nshield to ward them off, and as he did so his eyes fell on a little\nman standing on a rock above the rest, with a crown on his head and a\nroyal mantle on his shoulders. In an instant Youri had flung away his\nshield and sprung forward, regardless of the arrows that still fell\nabout him.\n\n  [Illustration: 'IS THIS THE MAN THAT YOU WISH TO MARRY?']\n\n'Oh, is it you, is it _really_ you, my deliverer? And is it your\nsubjects who hold as a captive Abeille whom I love?'\n\n'I am King Loc,' was the answer. And the figure with the long beard\nbent his eyes kindly on the eager youth. 'If Abeille has lived with us\nall these years, for many of them she was quite happy. But the gnomes,\nof whom you think so little, are a just people, and they will not keep\nher against her will. Beg the princess to be good enough to come\nhither,' he added, turning to Rug.\n\nAmidst a dead silence Abeille entered the vast space and looked around\nher. At first she saw nothing but a vast host of gnomes perched on the\nwalls and crowding on the floor of the big hall. Then her eyes met\nthose of Youri, and with a cry that came from her heart she darted\ntowards him, and threw herself on his breast.\n\n'Abeille,' said the king, when he had watched her for a moment, with a\nlook of pain on his face, 'is this the man that you wish to marry?'\n\n'Yes, Little King Loc, this is he and nobody else! And see how I can\nlaugh now, and how happy I am!' And with that she began to cry.\n\n'Hush, Abeille! there must be no tears to-day,' said Youri, gently\nstroking her hair. 'Come, dry your eyes, and thank King Loc, who\nrescued me from the cage in the realm of the Undines.'\n\nAs Youri spoke Abeille lifted her head, and a great light came into\nher face. At last she understood.\n\n'You did that for me?' she whispered. 'Ah, Little King Loc----!'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo, loaded with presents, and followed by regrets, Abeille went home.\nIn a few days the marriage took place; but however happy she was, and\nhowever busy she might be, never a month passed by without a visit\nfrom Abeille to her friends in the kingdom of the gnomes.\n\n(Adapted and shortened from the story of _Abeille_, by M. Anatole\nFrance.)\n\n\n\n\n'_A LONG-BOW STORY_'\n\n\nOne day a bunniah,[1] or banker, was walking along a country road when\nhe overtook a farmer going in the same direction. Now the bunniah was\nvery grasping, like most of his class, and was lamenting that he had\nhad no chance of making any money that day; but at the sight of the\nman in front he brightened up wonderfully.\n\n'That is a piece of luck,' he said to himself. 'Let me see if this\nfarmer is not good for something'; and he hastened his steps.\n\nAfter they had bid one another good day very politely, the bunniah\nsaid to the farmer:\n\n'I was just thinking how dull I felt, when I beheld you, but since we\nare going the same way, I shall find the road quite short in such\nagreeable company.'\n\n'With all my heart,' replied the farmer; 'but what shall we talk\nabout? A city man like you will not care to hear about cattle and\ncrops.'\n\n'Oh,' said the bunniah, 'I'll tell you what we will do. We will each\ntell the other the wildest tale we can imagine, and he who first\nthrows doubt on the other's story shall pay him a hundred rupees.'\n\nTo this the farmer agreed, and begged the bunniah to begin, as he was\nthe bigger man of the two; and privately he made up his mind that,\nhowever improbable it might be, nothing should induce him to hint that\nhe did not believe in the bunniah's tale. Thus politely pressed the\ngreat man started:\n\n'I was going along this road one day, when I met a merchant travelling\nwith a great train of camels laden with merchandise----'\n\n'Very likely,' murmured the farmer; 'I've seen that kind of thing\nmyself.'\n\n'No less than one hundred and one camels,' continued the bunniah, 'all\ntied together by their nose strings--nose to tail--and stretching\nalong the road for almost half a mile----'\n\n'Well?' said the farmer.\n\n'Well, a kite swooped down on the foremost camel and bore him off,\nstruggling, into the air, and by reason of them all being tied\ntogether the other hundred camels had to follow----'\n\n'Amazing, the strength of that kite!' said the farmer.\n'But--well--yes, doubtless; yes--well--one hundred and one camels--and\nwhat did he do with them?'\n\n'You doubt it?' demanded the bunniah.\n\n'Not a bit!' said the farmer heartily.\n\n'Well,' continued the bunniah, 'it happened that the princess of a\nneighbouring kingdom was sitting in her private garden, having her\nhair combed by her maid, and she was looking upward, with her head\nthrown back, whilst the maid tugged away at the comb, when that\nwretched kite, with its prey, went soaring overhead; and, as luck\nwould have it, the camels gave an extra kick just then, the kite lost\nhis hold, and the whole hundred and one camels dropped right into the\nprincess's left eye!'\n\n'Poor thing!' said the farmer; 'it's so painful having anything in\none's eye.'\n\n'Well,' said the bunniah, who was now warming to his task, 'the\nprincess shook her head, and sprang up, clapping her hand on her eye.\n\"Oh dear!\" she cried, \"I've got something in my eye, and how it _does_\nsmart!\"'\n\n'It always does,' observed the farmer, 'perfectly true. Well, what\ndid the poor thing do?'\n\n'At the sound of her cries, the maid came running to her assistance.\n\"Let me look,\" said she; and with that she gave the princess's eyelid\na twitch, and out came a camel, which the maid put in her pocket--'\n('Ah!' grunted the farmer)--'and then she just twisted up the corner\nof her headcloth and fished a hundred more of them out of the\nprincess's eye, and popped them all into her pocket with the other.'\n\nHere the bunniah gasped as one who is out of breath, but the farmer\nlooked at him slowly. 'Well?' said he.\n\n'I can't think of anything more now,' replied the bunniah. 'Besides,\nthat is the end; what do you say to it?'\n\n'Wonderful,' replied the farmer, 'and no doubt perfectly true!'\n\n'Well, it is your turn,' said the bunniah. 'I am so anxious to hear\nyour story. I am sure it will be very interesting.'\n\n'Yes, I think it will,' answered the farmer, and he began:\n\n'My father was a very prosperous man. Five cows he had, and three yoke\nof oxen, and half a dozen buffaloes, and goats in abundance; but of\nall his possessions the thing he loved best was a mare. A well bred\nmare she was--oh, a very fine mare!'\n\n'Yes, yes,' interrupted the bunniah, 'get on!'\n\n'I'm getting on,' said the farmer, 'don't you hurry me! Well, one day,\nas ill-luck would have it, he rode that mare to market with a torn\nsaddle, which galled her so, that when they got home she had a sore on\nher back as big as the palm of your hand.'\n\n'Yes,' said the bunniah impatiently, 'what next?'\n\n  [Illustration: THE BUNNIAH'S STORY]\n\n'It was June,' said the farmer, 'and you know how, in June, the air\nis full of dust-storms with rain at times? Well, the poor beast got\ndust in that wound, and what's more, with the dust some grains of\nwheat, and, what with the dust and the heat and the wet, that wheat\nsprouted and began to grow!'\n\n'Wheat does when it gets a fair chance,' said the bunniah.\n\n'Yes; and the next thing we knew was that there was a crop of wheat on\nthat horse's back as big as anything you ever saw in a hundred-acre\nfield, and we had to hire twenty men to reap it!'\n\n'One generally has to hire extra hands for reaping,' said the bunniah.\n\n'And we got four hundred maunds of wheat off that mare's back!'\ncontinued the farmer.\n\n'A good crop!' murmured the bunniah.\n\n'And your father,' said the farmer, 'a poor wretch, with hardly enough\nto keep body and soul together--(the bunniah snorted, but was\nsilent)--came to my father, and he said, putting his hands together as\nhumble as could be----'\n\nThe bunniah here flashed a furious glance at his companion, but bit\nhis lips and held his peace.\n\n'\"I haven't tasted food for a week. Oh! great master, let me have the\nloan of sixteen maunds of wheat from your store, and I will repay\nyou.\"'\n\n'\"Certainly, neighbour,\" answered my father; \"take what you need, and\nrepay it as you can.\"'\n\n'Well?' demanded the bunniah with fury in his eye.\n\n'Well, he took the wheat away with him,' replied the farmer; 'but he\nnever repaid it, and it's a debt to this day. Sometimes I wonder\nwhether I shall not go to law about it.'\n\nThen the bunniah began running his thumb quickly up and down the\nfingers of his right hand, and his lips moved in quick calculation.\n\n'What is the matter?' asked the farmer.\n\n'The wheat is the cheaper; I'll pay you for the wheat,' said the\nbunniah, with the calmness of despair, as he remembered that by his\nown arrangement he was bound to give the farmer a hundred rupees.\n\nAnd to this day they say in those parts, when a man owes a debt: 'Give\nme the money; or, if not that, give me at least the wheat.'\n\n(This is from oral tradition.)\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[1] Grain merchant and banker, and generally a very greedy man.\n\n\n\n\n_JACKAL OR TIGER?_\n\n\nOne hot night, in Hindustan, a king and queen lay awake in the palace\nin the midst of the city. Every now and then a faint air blew through\nthe lattice, and they hoped they were going to sleep, but they never\ndid. Presently they became more broad awake than ever at the sound of\na howl outside the palace.\n\n'Listen to that tiger!' remarked the king.\n\n'Tiger?' replied the queen. 'How should there be a tiger inside the\ncity? It was only a jackal.'\n\n'I tell you it was a tiger,' said the king.\n\n'And I tell you that you were dreaming if you thought it was anything\nbut a jackal,' answered the queen.\n\n'I say it was a tiger,' cried the king; 'don't contradict me.'\n\n'Nonsense!' snapped the queen. 'It was a jackal.' And the dispute\nwaxed so warm that the king said at last:\n\n'Very well, we'll call the guard and ask; and if it was a jackal I'll\nleave this kingdom to you and go away; and if it was a tiger then you\nshall go, and I will marry a new wife.'\n\n'As you like,' answered the queen, 'there isn't any doubt which it\nwas.'\n\nSo the king called the two soldiers who were on guard outside and put\nthe question to them. But, whilst the dispute was going on, the king\nand queen had got so excited and talked so loud that the guards had\nheard nearly all they said, and one man observed to the other:\n\n'Mind you declare that the king is right. It certainly was a jackal,\nbut, if we say so, the king will probably not keep his word about\ngoing away, and we shall get into trouble, so we had better take his\nside.'\n\nTo this the other agreed; therefore, when the king asked them what\nanimal they had seen, both the guards said it was certainly a tiger,\nand that the king was right of course, as he always was. The king made\nno remark, but sent for a palanquin, and ordered the queen to be\nplaced in it, bidding the four bearers of the palanquin to take her a\nlong way off into the forest and there leave her. In spite of her\ntears, she was forced to obey, and away the bearers went for three\ndays and three nights until they came to a dense wood. There they set\ndown the palanquin with the queen in it, and started home again.\n\nNow the queen thought to herself that the king could not mean to send\nher away for good, and that as soon as he had got over his fit of\ntemper he would summon her back; so she stayed quite still for a long\ntime, listening with all her ears for approaching footsteps, but heard\nnone. After a while she grew nervous, for she was all alone, and put\nher head out of the palanquin and looked about her. Day was just\nbreaking, and birds and insects were beginning to stir; the leaves\nrustled in a warm breeze; but, although the queen's eyes wandered in\nall directions, there was no sign of any human being. Then her spirit\ngave way, and she began to cry.\n\nIt so happened that close to the spot where the queen's palanquin had\nbeen set down, there dwelt a man who had a tiny farm in the midst of\nthe forest, where he and his wife lived alone far from any neighbours.\nAs it was hot weather the farmer had been sleeping on the flat roof of\nhis house, but was awakened by the sound of weeping. He jumped up and\nran downstairs as fast as he could, and into the forest towards the\nplace the sound came from, and there he found the palanquin.\n\n'Oh, poor soul that weeps,' cried the farmer, standing a little way\noff, 'who are you?' At this salutation from a stranger the queen grew\nsilent, dreading she knew not what.\n\n  [Illustration: THE FARMER FINDS THE QUEEN WEEPING BY THE PALANQUIN]\n\n'Oh, you that weep,' repeated the farmer, 'fear not to speak to me,\nfor you are to me as a daughter. Tell me, who are you?'\n\nHis voice was so kind that the queen gathered up her courage and\nspoke. And when she had told her story, the farmer called his wife,\nwho led her to their house, and gave her food to eat, and a bed to lie\non. And in the farm, a few days later, a little prince was born, and\nby his mother's wish named Ameer Ali.\n\nYears passed without a sign from the king. His wife might have been\ndead for all he seemed to care, though the queen still lived with the\nfarmer, and the little prince had by this time grown up into a strong,\nhandsome, and healthy youth. Out in the forest they seemed far from\nthe world; very few ever came near them, and the prince was\ncontinually begging his mother and the farmer to be allowed to go away\nand seek adventures and to make his own living. But she and the wise\nfarmer always counselled him to wait, until, at last, when he was\neighteen years of age, they had not the heart to forbid him any\nlonger. So he started off one early morning, with a sword by his side,\na big brass pot to hold water, a few pieces of silver, and a galail[2]\nor two-stringed bow in his hand, with which to shoot birds as he\ntravelled.\n\nMany a weary mile he tramped day after day, until, one morning, he saw\nbefore him just such a forest as that in which he had been born and\nbred, and he stepped joyfully into it, like one who goes to meet an\nold friend. Presently, as he made his way through a thicket, he saw a\npigeon which he thought would make a good dinner, so he fired a pellet\nat it from his galail, but missed the pigeon which fluttered away with\na startled clatter. At the same instant he heard a great clamour from\nbeyond the thicket, and, on reaching the spot, he found an ugly old\nwoman streaming wet and crying loudly as she lifted from her head an\nearthen vessel with a hole in it from which the water was pouring.\nWhen she saw the prince with his galail in his hand, she called out:\n\n'Oh, wretched one! why must you choose an old woman like me to play\nyour pranks upon? Where am I to get a fresh pitcher instead of this\none that you have broken with your foolish tricks? And how am I to go\nso far for water twice when one journey wearies me?'\n\n  [Illustration: THE UNLUCKY SHOT]\n\n'But, mother,' replied the prince, 'I played no trick upon you! I did\nbut shoot at a pigeon that should have served me for dinner, and as my\npellet missed it, it must have broken your pitcher. But, in exchange,\nyou shall have my brass pot, and that will not break easily; and as\nfor getting water, tell me where to find it, and I'll fetch it while\nyou dry your garments in the sun, and carry it whither you will.'\n\nAt this the old woman's face brightened. She showed him where to seek\nthe water, and when he returned a few minutes later with his pot\nfilled to the brim, she led the way without a word, and he followed.\nIn a short while they came to a hut in the forest, and as they drew\nnear it Ameer Ali beheld in the doorway the loveliest damsel his eyes\nhad ever looked on. At the sight of a stranger she drew her veil about\nher and stepped into the hut, and much as he wished to see her again\nAmeer Ali could think of no excuse by which to bring her back, and so,\nwith a heavy heart, he made his salutation, and bade the old woman\nfarewell. But when he had gone a little way she called after him:\n\n'If ever you are in trouble or danger, come to where you now stand and\ncry: \"Fairy of the Forest! Fairy of the forest, help me now!\" And I\nwill listen to you.'\n\nThe prince thanked her and continued his journey, but he thought\nlittle of the old woman's saying, and much of the lovely damsel.\nShortly afterwards he arrived at a city; and, as he was now in great\nstraits, having come to the end of his money, he walked straight to\nthe palace of the king and asked for employment. The king said he had\nplenty of servants and wanted no more; but the young man pleaded so\nhard that at last the rajah was sorry for him, and promised that he\nshould enter his bodyguard on the condition that he would undertake\nany service which was especially difficult or dangerous. This was just\nwhat Ameer Ali wanted, and he agreed to do whatever the king might\nwish.\n\nSoon after this, on a dark and stormy night, when the river roared\nbeneath the palace walls, the sound of a woman weeping and wailing was\nheard above the storm. The king ordered a servant to go and see what\nwas the matter; but the servant, falling on his knees in terror,\nbegged that he might not be sent on such an errand, particularly on a\nnight so wild, when evil spirits and witches were sure to be abroad.\nIndeed, so frightened was he, that the king, who was very\nkind-hearted, bade another to go in his stead, but each one showed the\nsame strange fear. Then Ameer Ali stepped forward:\n\n'This is my duty, your majesty,' he said, 'I will go.'\n\nThe king nodded, and off he went. The night was as dark as pitch, and\nthe wind blew furiously and drove the rain in sheets into his face;\nbut he made his way down to the ford under the palace walls and\nstepped into the flooded water. Inch by inch, and foot by foot he\nfought his way across, now nearly swept off his feet by some sudden\nswirl or eddy, now narrowly escaping being caught in the branches of\nsome floating tree that came tossing and swinging down the stream. At\nlength he emerged, panting and dripping wet, on the other side. Close\nby the bank stood a gallows, and on the gallows hung the body of some\nevildoer, whilst from the foot of it came the sound of sobbing that\nthe king had heard.\n\nAmeer Ali was so grieved for the one who wept there that he thought\nnothing of the wildness of the night or of the roaring river. As for\nghosts and witches, they had never troubled him, so he walked up\ntowards the gallows where crouched the figure of the woman.\n\n'What ails you?' he said.\n\nNow the woman was not really a woman at all, but a horrid kind of\nwitch who really lived in Witchland, and had no business on earth. If\never a man strayed into Witchland the ogresses used to eat him up, and\nthis old witch thought she would like to catch a man for supper, and\nthat is why she had been sobbing and crying in hopes that someone out\nof pity might come to her rescue.\n\nSo when Ameer Ali questioned her, she replied:\n\n'Ah, kind sir, it is my poor son who hangs upon that gallows; help me\nto get him down and I will bless you for ever.'\n\nAmeer Ali thought that her voice sounded rather eager than sorrowful,\nand he suspected that she was not telling the truth, so he determined\nto be very cautious.\n\n  [Illustration: AMEER ALI WINS THE ANKLET]\n\n'That will be rather difficult,' he said, 'for the gallows is high,\nand we have no ladder.'\n\n'Ah, but if you will just stoop down and let me climb upon your\nshoulders,' answered the old witch, 'I think I could reach him.' And\nher voice now sounded so cruel that Ameer Ali was sure that she\nintended some evil. But he only said:\n\n'Very well, we will try.' With that he drew his sword, pretending that\nhe needed it to lean upon, and bent so that the old woman could\nclamber on to his back, which she did very nimbly. Then, suddenly, he\nfelt a noose slipped over his neck, and the old witch sprang from his\nshoulders on to the gallows, crying:\n\n'Now, foolish one, I have got you, and will kill you for my supper.'\n\nBut Ameer Ali gave a sweep upwards with his sharp sword to cut the\nrope that she had slipped round his neck, and not only cut the cord\nbut cut also the old woman's foot as it dangled above him; and with a\nyell of pain and anger she vanished into the darkness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAmeer Ali then sat down to collect himself a little, and felt upon the\nground by his side an anklet that had evidently fallen off the old\nwitch's foot. This he put into his pocket, and as the storm had by\nthis time passed over he made his way back to the palace. When he had\nfinished his story, he took the anklet out of his pocket and handed it\nto the king, who, like everyone else, was amazed at the glory of the\njewels which composed it. Indeed, Ameer Ali himself was astonished,\nfor he had slipped the anklet into his pocket in the dark and had not\nlooked at it since. The king was delighted at its beauty, and having\npraised and rewarded Ameer Ali, he gave the anklet to his daughter, a\nproud and spoiled princess.\n\nNow in the women's apartments in the palace there hung two cages, in\none of which was a parrot and in the other a starling, and these two\nbirds could talk as well as human beings. They were both pets of the\nprincess who always fed them herself, and the next day, as she was\nwalking grandly about with her treasure tied round her ankle, she\nheard the starling say to the parrot:\n\n'Oh, Tote' (that was the parrot's name), 'how do you think the\nprincess looks in her new jewel?'\n\n'Think?' snapped the parrot, who was cross because they hadn't given\nhim his bath that morning, 'I think she looks like a washerwoman's\ndaughter, with one shoe on and the other off! Why doesn't she wear two\nof them, instead of going about with one leg adorned and the other\nempty?'\n\nWhen the princess heard this she burst into tears; and sending for her\nfather she declared that he must get her another such an anklet to\nwear on the other leg, or she would die of shame. So the king sent for\nAmeer Ali and told him that he must get a second anklet exactly like\nthe first within a month, or he should be hanged, for the princess\nwould certainly die of disappointment.\n\nPoor Ameer Ali was greatly troubled at the king's command, but he\nthought to himself that he had, at any rate, a month in which to lay\nhis plans. He left the palace at once, and inquired of everyone where\nthe finest jewels were to be got; but though he sought night and day\nhe never found one to compare with the anklet. At last only a week\nremained, and he was in sore difficulty, when he remembered the Fairy\nof the forest, and determined to go without loss of time and seek her.\nTherefore away he went, and after a day's travelling he reached the\ncottage in the forest, and, standing where he had stood when the old\nwoman called to him, he cried:\n\n'Fairy of the forest! Fairy of the forest! Help me! help me!'\n\nThen there appeared in the doorway the beautiful girl he had seen\nbefore, whom in all his wanderings he had never forgotten.\n\n'What is the matter?' she asked, in a voice so soft that he listened\nlike one struck dumb, and she had to repeat the question before he\ncould answer. Then he told her his story, and she went within the\ncottage and came back with two wands, and a pot of boiling water. The\ntwo wands she planted in the ground about six feet apart, and then,\nturning to him, she said:\n\n'I am going to lie down between these two wands. You must then draw\nyour sword and cut off my foot, and, as soon as you have done that,\nyou must seize it and hold it over the cauldron, and every drop of\nblood that falls from it into the water will become a jewel. Next you\nmust change the wands so that the one that stood at my head is at my\nfeet, and the one at my feet stands at my head, and place the severed\nfoot against the wound and it will heal, and I shall become quite well\nagain as before.'\n\nAt first Ameer Ali declared that he would sooner be hanged twenty\ntimes over than treat her so roughly; but at length she persuaded him\nto do her bidding. He nearly fainted himself with horror when he found\nthat, after the cruel blow which lopped her foot off, she lay as one\nlifeless; but he held the severed foot over the cauldron, and, as\ndrops of blood fell from it, and he saw each turn in the water into\nshining gems, his heart took courage. Very soon there were plenty of\njewels in the cauldron, and he quickly changed the wands, placed the\nsevered foot against the wound, and immediately the two parts became\none as before. Then the maiden opened her eyes, sprang to her feet,\nand drawing her veil about her, ran into the hut, and would not come\nout or speak to him any more. For a long while he waited, but, as she\ndid not appear, he gathered up the precious stones and returned to the\npalace. He easily got some one to set the jewels, and found that there\nwere enough to make, not only one, but three rare and beautiful\nanklets, and these he duly presented to the king on the very day that\nhis month of grace was over.\n\nThe king embraced him warmly, and made him rich gifts; and the next\nday the vain princess put two anklets on each foot, and strutted up\nand down in them admiring herself in the mirrors that lined her room.\n\n'Oh, Tote,' asked the starling, 'how do you think our princess looks\nnow in these fine jewels?'\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n'Ugh!' growled the parrot, who was really always cross in the\nmornings, and never recovered his temper until after lunch, 'she's got\nall her beauty at one end of her now; if she had a few of those fine\ngew-gaws round her neck and wrists she would look better; but now, to\nmy mind, she looks more than ever like the washerwoman's daughter\ndressed up.'\n\nPoor princess! she wept and stormed and raved until she made herself\nquite ill; and then she declared to her father that, unless she had\nbracelets and necklace to match the anklets she would die.\n\nAgain the king sent for Ameer Ali, and ordered him to get a necklace\nand bracelets to match those anklets within a month, or be put to a\ncruel death.\n\nAnd again Ameer Ali spent nearly the whole month searching for the\njewels, but all in vain. At length he made his way to the hut in the\nforest, and stood and cried:\n\n'Fairy of the forest! Fairy of the forest! Help me! help me!'\n\nOnce more the beautiful maiden appeared at his summons and asked what\nhe wanted, and when he had told her she said he must do exactly as he\nhad done the first time, except that now he must cut off both her\nhands and her head. Her words turned Ameer Ali pale with horror; but\nshe reminded him that no harm had come to her before, and at last he\nconsented to do as she bade him. From her severed hands and head there\nfell into the cauldron bracelets and chains of rubies and diamonds,\nemeralds and pearls that surpassed any that ever were seen. Then the\nhead and hands were joined on to the body, and left neither sign nor\nscar. Full of gratitude, Ameer Ali tried to speak to her, but she ran\ninto the house and would not come back, and he was forced to leave her\nand go away laden with the jewels.\n\nWhen, on the day appointed, Ameer Ali produced a necklace and\nbracelets each more beautiful and priceless than the last, the king's\nastonishment knew no bounds, and as for his daughter she was nearly\nmad with joy. The very next morning she put on all her finery, and\nthought that now, at least, that disagreeable parrot could find no\nfault with her appearance, and she listened eagerly when she heard the\nstarling say:\n\n'Oh, Tote, how do you think our princess is looking _now_?'\n\n'Very fine, no doubt,' grumbled the parrot; 'but what is the use of\ndressing up like that for oneself only? She ought to have a\nhusband--why doesn't she marry the man who got her all these splendid\nthings?'\n\nThen the princess sent for her father and told him that she wished to\nmarry Ameer Ali.\n\n'My dear child,' said her father, 'you really are very difficult to\nplease, and want something new every day. It certainly is time you\nmarried someone, and if you choose this man, of course he shall marry\nyou.'\n\nSo the king sent for Ameer Ali, and told him that within a month he\nproposed to do him the honour of marrying him to the princess, and\nmaking him heir to the throne.\n\nOn hearing this speech Ameer Ali bowed low and answered that he had\ndone and would do the king all the service that lay in his power, save\nonly this one thing. The king, who considered his daughter's hand a\nprize for any man, flew into a passion, and the princess was more\nfurious still. Ameer Ali was instantly thrown into the most dismal\nprison that they could find, and ordered to be kept there until the\nking had time to think in what way he should be put to death.\n\nMeanwhile the king determined that the princess ought in any case to\nbe married without delay, so he sent forth heralds throughout the\nneighbouring countries, proclaiming that on a certain day any person\nfitted for a bridegroom and heir to the throne should present himself\nat the palace.\n\nWhen the day came, all the court were gathered together, and a great\ncrowd assembled of men, young and old, who thought that they had as\ngood a chance as anyone else to gain both the throne and the princess.\nAs soon as the king was seated, he called upon an usher to summon the\nfirst claimant. But, just then, a farmer who stood in front of the\ncrowd cried out that he had a petition to offer.\n\n'Well, hasten then,' said the king; 'I have no time to waste.'\n\n'Your majesty,' said the farmer, 'has now lived and administered\njustice long in this city, and will know that the tiger who is king\nof beasts hunts only in the forest, whilst jackals hunt in every place\nwhere there is something to be picked up.'\n\n'What is all this? what is all this?' asked the king. 'The man must be\nmad!'\n\n'No, your majesty,' answered the farmer, 'I would only remind your\nmajesty that there are plenty of jackals gathered to-day to try and\nclaim your daughter and kingdom: every city has sent them, and they\nwait hungry and eager; but do not, O king, mistake or pretend again to\nmistake the howl of a jackal for the hunting cry of a tiger.'\n\nThe king turned first red and then pale.\n\n'There is,' continued the farmer, 'a royal tiger bred in the forest\nwho has the first and only true claim to your throne.'\n\n'Where? what do you mean?' stammered the king, growing pale as he\nlistened.\n\n'In prison,' replied the farmer; 'if your majesty will clear this\ncourt of the jackals I will explain.'\n\n'Clear the court!' commanded the king; and, very unwillingly, the\nvisitors left the palace.\n\n'Now tell me what riddle this is,' said he.\n\nThen the farmer told the king and his ministers how he had rescued the\nqueen and brought up Ameer Ali; and he fetched the old queen herself,\nwhom he had left outside. At the sight of her the king was filled with\nshame and self-reproach, and wished he could have lived his life over\nagain, and not have married the mother of the proud princess, who\ncaused him endless trouble until her death.\n\n'My day is past,' said he. And he gave up his crown to his son Ameer\nAli, who went once more and called to the forest fairy to provide him\nwith a queen to share his throne.\n\n'There is only one person I will marry,' said he. And this time the\nmaiden did not run away, but agreed to be his wife. So the two were\nmarried without delay, and lived long and reigned happily.\n\nAs for the old woman whose pitcher Ameer Ali had broken, she was the\nforest maiden's fairy godmother, and when she was no longer needed to\nlook after the girl she gladly returned to fairyland.\n\nThe old king has never been heard to contradict his wife any more. If\nhe even looks as if he does not agree with her, she smiles at him and\nsays:\n\n'Is it the tiger, then? or the jackal?' And he has not another word to\nsay.\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[2] A galail is a double-stringed bow from which bullets or pellets of\nhard dried clay can be fired with considerable force and precision.\n\n\n\n\n_THE COMB AND THE COLLAR_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king of Lombardy who, though he was\nuglier than any of his subjects, loved beauty in others, so he married\na wife who was declared by everyone to be the handsomest of women;\nand, whispered some, the most ill-natured also. Certainly she could\nnot endure the sight of a pretty person, and her ladies were all the\nplainest of their sex. Worse than all, she was desperately jealous of\nthe king's son and daughter by his former wife.\n\nUnfortunately, in spite of all her evil qualities, the king was her\ncomplete slave, and badly though she treated the boy, the lovely\nprincess was made to suffer ten times as much. Not contented with\ngiving the girl, for a governess, a woman whose temper was as bad as\nthe queen's own, the cruel step-mother did everything she could think\nof to spoil the girl's beauty, and to force her to appear as ugly as\nshe was herself; but, try as she might, when the hideous clothes and\nfrightful brown paint had been removed, her loveliness shone out as\nbright as ever.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow the king of Lombardy was cousin to the Archduke of Placenza, who\nhad lately lost his reason, to the great grief of his son and\ndaughter, Perarthrites and Ferrandina. The doctors having all failed\nto restore him to health, the prince and princess sent a messenger to\nconsult a famous enchantress, called the Mother of Sheaths, because\neveryone who visited her brought with him a knife, which she thrust\ninto one of the sheaths with which her cavern was lined. However, they\nobtained little comfort from the witch, who bade them 'seek their\nfather's wits in the place where he had lost them.' Against the wishes\nof the chief ministers, Perarthrites and Ferrandina rode off to the\nmysterious castle where the king had slept when his terrible fate had\novertaken him, and, once inside the gates, nothing more was heard of\nthem.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen three weeks had passed and still there was no news, the king's\nchief minister called a council to talk over the matter, and, at the\nend, it was decided that a company of distinguished persons should\nvisit the Mother of Sheaths, and that the knives they must take with\nthem should be of pure gold, richly set with precious stones. The\nwitch was so pleased with the beauty of the gifts that she not only\nlistened attentively to their story, but proceeded to a hole in the\ncavern, from which she drew out a little case containing a comb, and a\nsteel collar, fastened by a gold key.\n\n'Carry this comb and the collar to every court until you find a lady\nbeautiful enough to unlock the collar, and a man good enough to draw\nthe comb from its case. When you have discovered these, you can return\nwhence you came.'\n\n'But I do not see,' said the chamberlain, 'how that will help us to\nbring back our lost prince and princess.'\n\n'It is all I can do for you,' answered the Mother of Sheaths; and she\nwent into the back of the cavern, where they dared not follow her.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor the next few months the mad king's principal ministers wandered\nfrom one court to another, till at last they reached Lombardy, where\nthey found that their story had already travelled before them. As soon\nas they appeared in the presence-chamber the king received them with\nopen arms, for in his heart he had no doubt that his wife was the\npeerless beauty destined to unfasten the collar. And, indeed, if paint\nand hair-dye and magnificent dresses could have ensured her doing so,\nhe would certainly have been right. But, blinded by his love for this\nwicked woman, he had really no idea that her charms were not her own.\n\nAt the appointed hour the queen entered the throne-room, having by her\nside the young princess, in the most grievous plight imaginable. Her\ndress was so contrived as to give the idea that she had a hump; her\npink-and-white skin was thickly covered with yellow paint, and her\nblack hair all hidden by a close-fitting brown cloth cap. Murmurs of\nindignation rose on all sides, and the ambassadors, who had frequently\nheard the princess compared to the lovely Ferrandina, were dumb with\nastonishment. As for the king, he could hardly raise his eyes from the\nground, so ashamed was he; and signing to his son to take his place,\nhe withdrew from the scene.\n\nMounting the throne, the prince commanded the trial to begin at once,\nand the collar was handed to the princess's governess, who, being one\nof the ugliest women that ever was seen, naturally failed to turn the\nkey. Seizing the chance of his being for a short time in power, the\nprince resolved to punish her cruelties towards his sister, and\nespecially this last one, to which she had prompted the queen, and\nordered her to be taken out and executed, which was done, with great\ngood will, by the attendants. He then further commanded the ladies in\nwaiting to attend his sister to her apartments, and bathe her and\ndress her in the queen's most splendid robes, as she had none of her\nown; and the queen, though gnashing her teeth with anger, for once\ndared not interfere. More quickly than could have been expected, the\nprincess returned, looking so beautiful that if anyone had doubted\nbefore who would be able to unlock the collar they were instantly\nconvinced. The prince glanced at her, but said nothing, and, signing\nto one of the ambassadors, he ordered him to make trial of the comb.\nOne by one each man present did his best to remove it from its case,\nand one by one each was forced to own himself beaten. At length only\nthe prince remained, but as he was the judge he must wait till the\nlast.\n\nAfter the men had finished, the ladies of the court had the collar\npresented to them according to rank, but none could even turn the key.\nFinally it was handed to the queen, who managed to open it a little\nway. Her heart beat with triumph, but immediately it closed again with\na snap, and she sank back, fainting from disappointment.\n\nBy this time there were only left the prince and his sister; and no\nsooner did he touch the case than it opened of itself, while the lock\nof the collar yielded directly the princess took hold of the key.\nCries of delight rose from the courtiers and attendants; but these\nwere interrupted by a whirlwind accompanied by thick darkness, and\nfollowed by an earthquake.\n\nWhen all was calm again, and the sun shining, the prince and princess\nhad disappeared.\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCESS AND THE WOLVES IN THE FOREST]\n\nAlthough the king's son and daughter were the only persons who had\nvanished in the storm, unluckily they had been carried off in opposite\ndirections. The rapid motion through the air deprived the princess of\nher senses, which she nearly lost a second time, from fright, when she\nwas set down alone in the middle of a thick forest. She ran wildly\nabout, calling to her brother to come to her aid; but her cries only\nattracted the attention of some hungry wolves, who sprung towards her\nwith their jaws gaping and their red tongues hanging out. Falling on\nher knees, she covered her face with one hand unconsciously grasping\nthe collar with the other, and awaited her doom. Already she could\nfeel their hot breath on her cheek, and crouched lower and lower,\nwhen the eyes of the foremost wolf caught sight of the collar. With a\nhowl that echoed through the forest he bounded away, followed by his\ncompanions.\n\nAs soon as the princess had recovered from the shock she rose and\nfled, without knowing whither, until she found herself in a broad\nroad, and beheld, approaching her, a flock of sheep driven by two\nshepherds. She hastened towards them in order to implore their help,\nwhen suddenly the sheep caught sight of her collar and instantly\nscattered in all directions.\n\n'I must have something about me which frightens all beasts,' she\nthought, and took great comfort therefrom; and in good spirits she\nwent her way, till she came to the gates of an old castle. She was\njust about to enter and beg for a night's shelter, when a snow white\nfox ran across the road, and stopped in front of her.\n\nHe was so pretty, and had such bright beseeching eyes, that the\nprincess hastily tucked the collar under her dress, lest he too should\nflee at the sight of it. Very gently she drew near, hoping he might\nfollow her into the castle, but he only set off in another direction,\nand, tired though she was, something forced the girl to follow him.\nThankful indeed was she when he turned a corner and sat down before\nthe door of a tiny palace, which was built on the bank of a river.\nWhen she came up he took the hem of her dress between his teeth and\nled her into a room where there was a table covered with milk and\nfruit. After she had eaten and drunk, she lay down upon a pile of\ncushions, with the fox at her feet, and fell asleep to dream of her\nlost brother.\n\nIf the princess was dreaming of her brother, he was no less thinking\nof her, on the wild sea-shore, whither the whirlwind had cast him. All\nwas bleak and bare, except a green island which he could only see from\nthe top of a high rock where he passed all his days, gazing on the\nwaving palm trees and glittering waterfalls in the distance.\n\n'Suppose she should be there?' he said to himself; and though there\nwas no reason to expect that the princess should be in that place more\nthan in any other, he could not get the notion out of his head.\n\nA song, sung in the loveliest voice he had ever heard, roused the\nyoung man from his musings, and he instantly turned in the direction\nfrom which it had come. But though the singer seemed close to him he\ncould see her nowhere, and indeed, no sooner had he reached one spot\nthan the voice sounded in another direction, and he followed it up and\ndown, till he was suddenly stopped by the sight of a large fish's\nskin, which lay stretched on the sand between the sea and the rocks.\nThe thing was so ugly, that he stepped aside in disgust, and at that\ninstant something leapt into the sea behind his back. This caused him\nto look round. The fish's skin was no longer there, but in a cave in\nthe rock behind it he discovered a bath of ebony lined with gold,\nwhich glittered in the sunlight.\n\nDays passed without any adventures, and the prince had almost made up\nhis mind to leave the shore, and to seek his sister inland, when once\nmore he heard the voice that had so charmed him, and beheld the bloody\nskin lying on the sand, and the bath, now filled with water, in the\ngrotto. Little sleep had he that night, and before dawn he hid himself\nbehind the rocks, determined not to move from the place till the fish\nshould come back again.\n\nHe had not very long to wait, for with the first rays of the sun there\nappeared, out to sea, a shining white object which was blown by gentle\nbreezes towards the shore. As it came nearer he beheld a maiden, of\ndazzling loveliness, seated in a shell where blues and pinks and\ngreens all melted into each other. In her hand she held the rope with\nwhich the shell was guided.\n\nThe prince was so bewildered at her beauty that he forgot that he was\nin hiding, and, rushing out, sank on his knees on the sands, holding\nout his hands towards this wonderful vision. But as he did so the comb\nand its case fell out of his pocket, and at the sight the lady uttered\na wild shriek, and, steering her shell round, vanished speedily in the\ndirection of the island. Throwing off his clothes, the prince was\npreparing to swim after her, when he perceived beside him a snow white\nfox, looking the same way, and making frantic signs with his paws,\ntill a small boat put out and set sail towards them, to the great joy\nof the little creature.\n\nWhen the boat drew up to the beach, the fox waved his paw towards the\nprince's clothes, which he took to mean that he was to put them on\nagain. This done, they both got in, and had just pushed off, when the\nprince suddenly recollected that the sight of the comb had frightened\naway the beautiful lady. In a transport of fury he raised his hand to\nfling it into the sea, but the fox sprang on him and held on so\ntightly to his arm that he could not lift it. At that moment a\nhorseman on the shore let fly an arrow at the fox, with so true an aim\nthat the little creature fell heavily into the well of the boat, and\nclosed its eyes, like one who has received his death-blow. The grief\nof the prince was sore. He instantly leaped to land, but the murderer\nwas already far distant. When the young man turned round again, the\nboat and the fox were nowhere to be seen.\n\nAn approaching storm drove him into the grotto, which was lighted up\nby a multitude of tapers, each one being in the shape of a knife half\nout of its sheath. Over the bath was a tent-shaped covering of white,\nembroidered with sheaths, and from beneath it came a voice:\n\n'Prince, will you trust me whatever happens, knowing that my heart is\nyours, and as I feel that yours is mine? But, beware, for if you give\nthe smallest sign of fear, when the tent is opened, you will lose me\nfor ever.'\n\nShe did well to warn him; and even then he had much ado to keep the\ncolour in his cheeks and his hand from trembling, for a crocodile's\nhead with snapping jaws advanced towards him. With a mighty effort he\nmanaged to remain still, and to gaze steadily at the horrible beast,\nand as he did so, the head bent backwards, and beneath it was seen the\nlovely countenance of the Lady of the Shell.\n\n'Quick! prince! quick! the time is flying, comb me at once or I shall\nvanish from your sight.' At her words he took out the comb, but found\nto his surprise that it needed all his strength to draw it from its\nsheath. And, strange to say, that in proportion as the comb emerged\nfrom its sheath the lady's head was freed from its horrible covering,\nand her body rose a little more out of the water. When her shoulders\nand arms were freed, she called to him:\n\n'Enough, so far you have obeyed my orders. Now burn my skin.'\n\n'Ah, that I can _never_ do,' cried he; but the lady cut him short.\n\n'Then we shall both rue it for ever,' she said gravely; 'for I can\nonly be the wife of him who will burn my skin.' And while he still\nstood hesitating, the curtains of the tent fell back on her, and the\ntapers fizzled out.\n\nBitterly repenting his slowness, he wandered towards the forest where\na fire was burning, hardly knowing what he did; but on his way he\nalmost fell over the skin, which was lying across his path.\n\n  [Illustration: 'QUICK! PRINCE! QUICK! THE TIME IS FLYING, COMB ME\n      AT ONCE!']\n\n'Ah, fool that I was! This must be the skin she wished me to burn,'\nsaid he. And seizing it in both hands he flung it into the fire, where\nit exploded with a terrific noise. At first he rushed off to some\ndistance, not knowing what might next befall, but after a while found\nthat his steps had led him back to the place of the fire. The skin had\ngone and left no traces, but among the cinders he beheld something\nshining, which proved to be the magic collar. Ah! then his sister, for\nwhom he had so greatly longed, must be near at last! And before he\ncould turn his head or pick up the collar, her arms were round his\nneck, and everything else was forgotten.\n\n'You shall tell your story first,' she said, when at length they could\nspeak. And so he did; but his head was so full of the Lady of the\nShell that he forgot to say anything about the fox. And it was well\nthat he had forgotten, for when the princess had poured forth her own\nadventures, she ended up by speaking of all she owed to the little\nwhite fox.\n\n'You cannot even guess the care he took of me in the little palace.\nBut though nothing could exceed his kindness, I saw by his eyes that\nthere was something he wanted me to give him, but I could not tell\nwhat. Alas! the day came that I learnt it to my cost. I had hidden the\ncollar in a thick bush, lest the fox should catch sight of it and be\nscared away as the other animals had been. But, one day, when we were\nin the garden, the sun happened to shine straight on it, and he sprang\ntowards it with every sign of delight. He was about to seize it\nbetween his teeth when it closed with a loud noise. The fox fled away\nwith a piercing scream, and though I have sought him far and wide, I\nhave never seen him since. I was here when you flung the skin into the\ncinders, and no doubt, in my hurry to escape, the collar must have\ndropped from me. Ah, dear brother,' she continued with tears in her\neyes, 'I can no longer live without my beloved fox; help me, I entreat\nyou, to find him.'\n\nSo great was her grief that the prince dared not tell her what sad\nfate had overtaken the poor little animal, and trusted that time might\nsoothe her. He assured her that he would go with her wherever she\ndesired if she would grant him this one day to spend on the sea-shore;\nand with this the princess was forced to be content.\n\nThe prince was standing on the rock, looking out towards the lovely\nisland, and straining his eyes to see the white sail once more, when\nfrightful shrieks from the wood a little way off caused him to hasten\nwith all his speed in that direction. He soon perceived a knight on\nhorseback with a bow slung to his back, struggling to lift a woman on\nto his saddle. The knights' surprise at the sight of a man in this\ndesolate spot caused him to drop the woman's arm, and she rushed to\ntake shelter behind her defender, who, to his amazement, then\nrecognised his step-mother.\n\n'How did you come here?' he asked coldly, more than half regretting\nthat he had not left her to her fate; but she read what was in his\nheart, and fell on her knees before him.\n\n'Oh, forgive me my wickedness,' she cried, 'for indeed I have repented\nof it long ago, and come to the aid of your father who has been sorely\nsmitten by that mad archduke from whom you have just saved me! There\nis no time to pursue him,' she added, as the prince started at the\nsound of the vanishing hoofs; and as they pushed their way along the\npath she told him all that had happened since they had last met.\n\n'From the moment that the king knew of my cruelty to your sister,'\nsaid she, 'he vowed he would never see me again, and left the court in\nsearch of you both. I followed him secretly, but not being able to\ngain any tidings of him, consulted the Mother of Sheaths, who took me\nto rest in that island where the palm trees are waving. There she\nshowed me a lovely princess who, under a spell, was forced daily to\ntake the form of a crocodile, and when the dreaded moment arrived the\nskin appeared before her, and, shudder as she might, some unseen power\nimpelled her to wrap herself in it and plunge into the sea. It is to\nthis island I am leading you; but first we must find your sister, for\non her presence hangs the life of the white fox--if, indeed, he is not\ndead already.'\n\n'The white fox!' exclaimed the prince. 'What do you know of him?'\n\n'Not much,' answered the queen; 'but, since I arrived on the island,\nhe was always with us, and charmed us all. Yesterday we missed him,\nbut in the evening a little boat drifted up on the sands, and in it\nlay the fox, covered with blood. While his wounds were being tended in\nthe palace with all the care imaginable, I set out to consult a\nwizard, who told me that I must enter the skiff and seek for the\nprince and princess of Lombardy, and that if, in twenty-four hours, I\ncould bring them into the presence of the fox, his life would be\nsaved. On a rock along the beach I found your father with an arrow\nthrough his shoulder, from the bow of his cousin the mad archduke, who\nwas drawing another from his quiver, destined for me, when I fled into\nthe forest!'\n\n'My father so near!' cried the prince. 'We must return and seek him,\nand also look for my sister.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey found her in the grotto, with her father's head in her lap,\ntrying vainly to staunch his wounds. Between them they contrived to\ncarry him to the boat, which sailed swiftly towards the island. On the\nway the prince gently broke to his sister the sad state of the white\nfox.\n\n'Take me to him!' she said, as soon as the boat touched the island;\nand in silence the queen went down the path to the palace.\n\nThe white fox was lying on a soft mattress in front of a fire, his\neyes closed, and a look on his face which told that death was not far\ndistant. But he knew, somehow, that the princess was near him, and\nopened his eyes and wagged his tail feebly. The princess burst into\nsobs and tears, till a hand on her shoulder checked her.\n\n'Why do you waste the few moments that are left you in this manner?'\nasked the governor of the island sternly. 'Place the collar you wear\nround his neck, and he will be cured at once. But you must act\nquickly.'\n\nThe princess seemed turned to stone as she listened. 'The collar!'\nshe gasped. 'But I have not got it, I lost it in the forest!' And the\nthousand sheaths with which the walls were hung took up the cry:\n\n'The collar is lost! The collar is lost!'\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCESS SAVES THE WHITE FOX]\n\n'What collar are you talking about?' asked the king, who was lying on\nanother bed, with the physicians bending over him. 'Here is one that I\npicked up among some cinders, before that madman shot me--perhaps it\nmay be the one you want, or, at all events, it may do as well.' And he\nsigned to an attendant to take the collar from the pocket of his\nvelvet jerkin.\n\nThe princess leapt forward with joy at the sight of the precious\nthing, and snatching it from the hand of the man she placed it round\nthe neck of the fox. All present held their breath as they watched\nwhat was happening; and what _did_ happen was that his legs grew\nlonger and longer, and his nose grew shorter and shorter. The fox was\ngone, and in his stead there lay Perarthrites, in a coat of thick\nwhite fur.\n\nBut though the prince of Lombardy was rejoiced to see his friend and\ncousin again, his heart still bled for the beautiful lady who had\nvanished so mysteriously. His face was so troubled that the governor\nof the island marked it, and asked what was the matter. 'Oh! help me,\nif you can,' cried the prince. 'The thought of the sufferings that the\nenchanted nymph may be undergoing tortures me!'\n\n'They are far worse than you can imagine,' gravely replied the\ngovernor; 'but if you still possess your comb, you may yet relieve her\nof them. Ah! that is well,' he continued, as the prince quickly drew\nthe comb from its case. 'Now follow me.'\n\nNot only the prince, but every one else followed; and the governor led\nthem down a long gallery to a heavy iron door, which flew open at its\nown accord. But what a sight met the prince's eyes! The lady whom he\nhad last beheld in peerless beauty was sitting in a chair wrapped in\nflames, which were twisting like hair about her head. Her face was\nswollen and red; her mouth was open as if gasping for breath. Only her\narms and neck were as lovely as ever in their whiteness.\n\n'This is your doing,' said the governor to the prince; 'you brought\nher to this when you burnt the crocodile's skin. Now try if, by\ncombing, you can soothe her agony.'\n\nAt the first touch of the comb the flames became suddenly\nextinguished; at the second, the look of pain vanished from the face,\nand it shrank into its usual size; at the third, she rose from the\nchair, lovelier than she ever was before, and flung herself into the\narms of her brother Perarthrites.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter this there was nothing more to be done but to marry the two\ncouples as fast as possible. And when the wedding was over,\nPerarthrites and his bride returned to Placenza, and Ferrandina and\nher husband to Lombardy, and they all lived happily till they died.\n\n(From Count Anthony Hamilton's _Fairy Tales_.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE THANKSGIVING OF THE WAZIR_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in Hindustan two kings whose countries\nbordered upon each other; but, as they were rivals in wealth and\npower, and one was a Hindu rajah and the other a Mohammedan badshah,\nthey were not good friends at all. In order, however, to escape\ncontinual quarrels, the rajah and the badshah had drawn up an\nagreement, stamped and signed, declaring that if any of their\nsubjects, from the least to the greatest, crossed the boundary between\nthe two kingdoms, he might be seized and punished.\n\nOne morning the badshah and his chief wazir, or prime minister, were\njust about to begin their morning's work over the affairs of the\nkingdom, and the badshah had taken up a pen and was cutting it to his\nliking with a sharp knife, when the knife slipped and cut off the tip\nof his finger.\n\n'Oh-he, wazir!' cried the king, 'I've cut the tip of my finger off!'\n\n'That is good hearing!' said the wazir in answer.\n\n'Insolent one,' exclaimed the king. 'Do you take pleasure in the\nmisfortunes of others, and in mine also? Take him away, my guards, and\nput him in the court prison until I have time to punish him as he\ndeserves!'\n\nInstantly the officers in attendance seized upon the luckless wazir,\nand dragged him out of the king's presence towards the narrow doorway,\nthrough which unhappy criminals were wont to be led to prison or\nexecution. As the door opened to receive him, the wazir muttered\nsomething into his great white beard which the soldiers could not\nhear.\n\n'What said the rascal?' shouted the angry king.\n\nHe says, 'he thanks your majesty,' replied one of the gaolers. And at\nhis words, the king stared at the closing door, in anger and\namazement.\n\n'He must be mad,' he cried, 'for he is grateful, not only for the\nmisfortunes of others, but for his own; surely something has turned\nhis head!'\n\nNow the king was very fond of his old wazir, and although the court\nphysician came and bound up his injured finger with cool and healing\nointment, and soothed the pain, he could not soothe the soreness of\nthe king's heart, nor could any of all his ministers and courtiers,\nwho found his majesty very cross all the day long.\n\nEarly next morning the king ordered his horse and declared that he\nwould go hunting. Instantly all was bustle and preparation in stable\nand hall, and by the time he was ready a score of ministers and\nhuntsmen stood ready to mount and accompany him; but to their\nastonishment the king would have none of them. Indeed, he glared at\nthem so fiercely that they were glad to leave him. So away and away he\nwandered, over field and through forest, so moody and thoughtful that\nmany a fat buck and gaudy pheasant escaped without notice, and so\ncareless was he whither he was going that he strayed without\nperceiving it over into the rajah's territory, and only discovered the\nfact when, suddenly, men stepped from all sides out of a thicket, and\nthere was nothing left but surrender. Then the poor badshah was seized\nand bound and taken to the rajah's prison, thinking most of the time\nof his wazir, who was suffering a similar fate, and wishing that, like\nthe wazir, he could feel that there was something to give thanks for.\n\nThat night the rajah held a special council to consider what should\nbe done to his rival who had thus given himself into his hands. All\nthe Brahmans were sent for--fat priests who understood all about\neverything, and what days were lucky and what unlucky--and, whilst all\nthe rest of the rajah's councillors were offering him different advice\nuntil he was nearly crazy with anger and indecision, the chief Brahman\nwas squatting in a corner figuring out sums and signs to himself with\nan admiring group of lesser priests around him. At last he arose, and\nadvanced towards the throne.\n\n'Well,' said the rajah anxiously, 'what have you to advise?'\n\n'A very unlucky day!' exclaimed the chief Brahman. 'Oh, a very unlucky\nday! The god Devi is full of wrath, and commands that to-morrow you\nmust chop off this badshah's head and offer it in to him in\nsacrifice.'\n\n'Ah, well,' said the rajah, 'let it be done. I leave it to you to\ncarry out the sentence.' And he bowed to the priests and left the\nroom.\n\nBefore dawn great preparations were being made for a grand festival in\nhonour of the great idol Devi. Hundreds of banners waved, hundreds of\ndrummers drummed, hundreds of singers chanted chants, hundreds of\npriests, well washed and anointed, performed their sacred rites,\nwhilst the rajah sat, nervous and ill at ease, amongst hundreds of\ncourtiers and servants, wishing it were all well over. At last the\ntime came for the sacrifice to be offered, and the poor badshah was\nled out bound, to have his head chopped off.\n\nThe chief Brahman came along with a smile on his face, and a big sword\nin his hand, when, suddenly, he noticed that the badshah's finger was\ntied up in a bit of rag. Instantly he dropped the sword, and, with his\neyes starting out of his head with excitement, pounced upon the rag\nand tore it off, and there he saw that the tip of his victim's finger\nwas missing. At this he got very red and angry indeed, and he led the\nbadshah up to where the rajah sat wondering.\n\n'Behold! O rajah,' he said, 'this sacrifice is useless, the tip of his\nfinger is gone! A sacrifice is no sacrifice unless it is complete.'\nAnd he began to weep with rage and mortification.\n\nBut of instead of wailing likewise, the rajah gave a sigh of relief,\nand answered: 'Well, that settles the matter. If it had been anyone\nelse I should not have minded; but, somehow--a king and all--well, it\ndoesn't seem quite right to sacrifice a king.' And with that he jumped\nup and with his jewelled dagger cut the badshah's cords, and marched\nwith him out of the temple back to the palace.\n\nAfter having bathed and refreshed his guest, the rajah loaded him with\ngifts, and himself accompanied him with a large escort as far as the\nfrontier between their kingdoms, where, amidst salutes and great\nrejoicings, they tore up the old agreement and drew up another in\nwhich each king promised welcome and safe conduct to any of the\nother's people, from the least to the greatest, who came over the\nborder on any errand whatever. And so they embraced, and each went his\nown way.\n\nWhen the badshah got home that very evening he sent for his imprisoned\nwazir.\n\n'Well, O wazir!' he said, when the old man had been brought before\nhim, 'what think you has been happening to me?'\n\n'How can a man in prison know what is happening outside it?' answered\nthe wazir.\n\nThen the badshah told him all his adventures. And when he had reached\nthe end he added:\n\n'I have made up my mind, as a token of gratitude for my escape, to\npardon you freely, if you will tell me why you gave thanks when I cut\noff the tip of my finger.'\n\n'Sire,' replied the old wazir, 'am I not right in thinking that it\nwas a very lucky thing for you that you _did_ cut off the tip of your\nfinger, for otherwise you would certainly have lost your head. And to\nlose a scrap of one's finger is surely the least of the two evils.'\n\n'Very true,' answered the king, touching his head as he spoke, as if\nto make quite certain that it was still there, 'but yet--why did you\nlikewise give thanks when I put you into prison?'\n\n'I gave thanks,' said the wazir, 'because it is good always to give\nthanks. And had I known that my being in prison was to prevent the god\nDevi claiming me instead of your majesty, as a perfect offering, I\nshould have given greater thanks still.'\n\n(Punjabi story.)\n\n\n\n\n_SAMBA THE COWARD_\n\n\nIn the great country far away south, through which flows the river\nNile, there lived a king who had an only child called Samba.\n\nNow, from the time that Samba could walk he showed signs of being\nafraid of everything, and as he grew bigger he became more and more\nfrightened. At first his father's friends made light of it, and said\nto each other:\n\n'It is strange to see a boy of our race running into a hut at the\ntrumpeting of an elephant, and trembling with fear if a lion cub half\nhis size comes near him; but, after all, he is only a baby, and when\nhe is older he will be as brave as the rest.'\n\n'Yes, he is only a baby,' answered the king who overheard them, 'it\nwill be all right by-and-by.' But, somehow, he sighed as he said it,\nand the men looked at him and made no reply.\n\nThe years passed away, and Samba had become a tall and strong youth.\nHe was good-natured and pleasant, and was liked by all, and if during\nhis father's hunting parties he was seldom to be seen in any place of\ndanger, he was too great a favourite for much to be said.\n\n'When the king holds the feast and declares him to be his heir, he\nwill cease to be a child,' murmured the rest of the people, as they\nhad done before; and on the day of the ceremony their hearts beat\ngladly, and they cried to each other:\n\n'It is Samba, Samba, whose chin is above the heads of other men, who\nwill defend us against the tribes of the robbers!'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNot many weeks after, the dwellers in the village awoke to find that\nduring the night their herds had been driven away, and their herdsmen\ncarried off into slavery by their enemies. Now was the time for Samba\nto show the brave spirit that had come to him with his manhood, and to\nride forth at the head of the warriors of his race. But Samba could\nnowhere be found, and a party of the avengers went on their way\nwithout him.\n\nIt was many days later before he came back, with his head held high,\nand a tale of a lion which he had tracked to its lair and killed, at\nthe risk of his own life. A little while earlier and his people would\nhave welcomed his story, and believed it all, but now it was too late.\n\n'Samba the Coward,' cried a voice from the crowd; and the name stuck\nto him, even the very children shouted it at him, and his father did\nnot spare him. At length he could bear it no longer, and made up his\nmind to leave his own land for another where peace had reigned since\nthe memory of man. So, early next morning, he slipped out to the\nking's stables, and choosing the quietest horse he could find, he rode\naway northwards.\n\nNever as long as he lived did Samba forget the terrors of that\njourney. He could hardly sleep at night for dread of the wild beasts\nthat might be lurking behind every rock or bush, while, by day, the\ndistant roar of a lion would cause him to start so violently, that he\nalmost fell from his horse. A dozen times he was on the point of\nturning back, and it was not the terror of the mocking words and\nscornful laughs that kept him from doing so, but the terror lest he\nshould be forced to take part in their wars. Therefore he held on, and\ndeeply thankful he felt when the walls of a city, larger than he had\never dreamed of, rose before him.\n\nDrawing himself up to his full height, he rode proudly through the\ngate and past the palace, where, as was her custom, the princess was\nsitting on the terrace roof, watching the bustle in the street below.\n\n'That is a gallant figure,' thought she, as Samba, mounted on his big\nblack horse, steered his way skilfully among the crowds; and,\nbeckoning to a slave, she ordered him to go and meet the stranger, and\nask him who he was and whence he came.\n\n'Oh, princess, he is the son of a king, and heir to a country which\nlies near the Great River,' answered the slave, when he had returned\nfrom questioning Samba. And the princess on hearing this news summoned\nher father, and told him that if she was not allowed to wed the\nstranger she would die unmarried.\n\nLike many other fathers, the king could refuse his daughter nothing,\nand besides, she had rejected so many suitors already that he was\nquite alarmed lest no man should be good enough for her. Therefore,\nafter a talk with Samba, who charmed him by his good humour and\npleasant ways, he gave his consent, and three days later the wedding\nfeast was celebrated with the utmost splendour.\n\nThe princess was very proud of her tall handsome husband, and for some\ntime she was quite content that he should pass the days with her under\nthe palm trees, telling her the stories that she loved, or amusing her\nwith tales of the manners and customs of his country, which were so\ndifferent to those of her own. But, by-and-by, this was not enough;\nshe wanted other people to be proud of him too, and one day she said:\n\n'I really almost wish that those Moorish thieves from the north would\ncome on one of their robbing expeditions. I should love so to see you\nride out at the head of our men, to chase them home again. Ah, how\nhappy I should be when the city rang with your noble deeds!'\n\n  [Illustration: SAMBA FOUND SKULKING BY HIS WIFE]\n\nShe looked lovingly at him as she spoke; but, to her surprise, his\nface grew dark, and he answered hastily:\n\n'Never speak to me again of the Moors or of war. It was to escape from\nthem that I fled from my own land, and at the first word of invasion I\nshould leave you for ever.'\n\n'How funny you are,' cried she, breaking into a laugh. 'The idea of\nanyone as big as you being afraid of a Moor! But still, you mustn't\nsay those things to anyone except me, or they might think you were in\nearnest.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNot very long after this, when the people of the city were holding a\ngreat feast outside the walls of the town, a body of Moors, who had\nbeen in hiding for days, drove off all the sheep and goats which were\npeacefully feeding on the slopes of a hill. Directly the loss was\ndiscovered, which was not for some hours, the king gave orders that\nthe war drum should be beaten, and the warriors assembled in the great\nsquare before the palace, trembling with fury at the insult which had\nbeen put upon them. Loud were the cries for instant vengeance, and for\nSamba, son-in-law of the king, to lead them to battle. But shout as\nthey might, Samba never came.\n\nAnd where was he? No further than in a cool, dark cellar of the\npalace, crouching among huge earthenware pots of grain. With a rush of\npain at her heart, there his wife found him, and she tried with all\nher strength to kindle in him a sense of shame, but in vain. Even the\nthought of the future danger he might run from the contempt of his\nsubjects was as nothing when compared with the risks of the present.\n\n'Take off your tunic of mail,' said the princess at last; and her\nvoice was so stern and cold that none would have known it. 'Give it to\nme, and hand me besides your helmet, your sword and your spear.' And\nwith many fearful glances to right and to left, Samba stripped off\nthe armour inlaid with gold, the property of the king's son-in-law.\nSilently his wife took, one by one, the pieces from him, and fastened\nthem on her with firm hands, never even glancing at the tall form of\nher husband who had slunk back to his corner. When she had fastened\nthe last buckle, and lowered her vizor, she went out, and mounting\nSamba's horse, gave the signal to the warriors to follow.\n\nNow, although the princess was much shorter than her husband, she was\na tall woman, and the horse which she rode was likewise higher than\nthe rest, so that when the men caught sight of the gold-inlaid suit of\nchain armour, they did not doubt that Samba was taking his rightful\nplace, and cheered him loudly. The princess bowed in answer to their\ngreeting, but kept her vizor down; and touching her horse with the\nspur, she galloped at the head of her troops to charge the enemy. The\nMoors, who had not expected to be so quickly pursued, had scarcely\ntime to form themselves into battle array, and were speedily put to\nflight. Then the little troop of horsemen returned to the city, where\nall sung the praises of Samba their leader.\n\nThe instant they reached the palace the princess flung her reins to a\ngroom, and disappeared up a side staircase, by which she could,\nunseen, enter her own rooms. Here she found Samba lying idly on a heap\nof mats; but he raised his head uneasily as the door opened and looked\nat his wife, not feeling sure how she might act towards him. However,\nhe need not have been afraid of harsh words: she merely unbuttoned her\narmour as fast as possible, and bade him put it on with all speed.\nSamba obeyed, not daring to ask any questions; and when he had\nfinished the princess told him to follow her, and led him on to the\nflat roof of the house, below which a crowd had gathered, cheering\nlustily.\n\n'Samba, the king's son-in-law! Samba, the bravest of the brave! Where\nis he? Let him show himself!' And when Samba did show himself the\nshouts and applause became louder than ever. 'See how modest he is! He\nleaves the glory to others!' cried they. And Samba only smiled and\nwaved his hand, and said nothing.\n\nOut of all the mass of people assembled there to do honour to Samba,\none alone there was who did not shout and praise with the rest. This\nwas the princess's youngest brother, whose sharp eyes had noted\ncertain things during the fight which recalled his sister much more\nthan they did her husband. Under promise of secrecy, he told his\nsuspicions to the other princes, but only got laughed at, and was\nbidden to carry his dreams elsewhere.\n\n'Well, well,' answered the boy, 'we shall see who is right; but the\nnext time we give battle to the Moors I will take care to place a\nprivate mark on our commander.'\n\nIn spite of their defeat, not many days after the Moors sent a fresh\nbody of troops to steal some cattle, and again Samba's wife dressed\nherself in her husband's armour, and rode out at the head of the\navenging column. This time the combat was fiercer than before, and in\nthe thick of it her youngest brother drew near, and gave his sister a\nslight wound on the leg. At the moment she paid no heed to the pain,\nwhich, indeed, she scarcely felt; but when the enemy had been put to\nflight and the little band returned to the palace, faintness suddenly\novertook her, and she could hardly stagger up the staircase to her own\napartments.\n\n'I am wounded,' she cried, sinking down on the mats where he had been\nlying, 'but do not be anxious; it is really nothing. You have only got\nto wound yourself slightly in the same spot and no one will guess that\nit was I and not you who were fighting.'\n\n'What!' cried Samba, his eyes nearly starting from his head in\nsurprise and terror. 'Can you possibly imagine that I should agree to\nanything so useless and painful? Why, I might as well have gone to\nfight myself!'\n\n'Ah, I ought to have known better, indeed,' answered the princess, in\na voice that seemed to come from a long way off; but, quick as\nthought, the moment Samba turned his back she pierced one of his bare\nlegs with a spear.\n\nHe gave a loud scream and staggered backwards, from astonishment, much\nmore than from pain. But before he could speak his wife had left the\nroom and had gone to seek the medicine man of the palace.\n\n'My husband has been wounded,' said she, when she had found him, 'come\nand tend him with speed, for he is faint from loss of blood.' And she\ntook care that more than one person heard her words, so that all that\nday the people pressed up to the gate of the palace, asking for news\nof their brave champion.\n\n'You see,' observed the king's eldest sons, who had visited the room\nwhere Samba lay groaning, 'you see, O wise young brother, that we were\nright and you were wrong about Samba, and that he really _did_ go into\nthe battle.' But the boy answered nothing, and only shook his head\ndoubtfully.\n\nIt was only two days later that the Moors appeared for the third time,\nand though the herds had been tethered in a new and safer place, they\nwere promptly carried off as before. 'For,' said the Moors to each\nother, 'the tribe will never think of our coming back so soon when\nthey have beaten us so badly.'\n\nWhen the drum sounded to assemble all the fighting men, the princess\nrose and sought her husband.\n\n'Samba,' cried she, 'my wound is worse than I thought. I can scarcely\nwalk, and could not mount my horse without help. For to-day, then, I\ncannot do your work, so you must go instead of me.'\n\n'What nonsense,' exclaimed Samba, 'I never heard of such a thing.\nWhy, I might be wounded, or even killed! You have three brothers. The\nking can choose one of them.'\n\n'They are all too young,' replied his wife; 'the men would not obey\nthem. But if, indeed, you will not go, at least you can help me\nharness my horse.' And to this Samba, who was always ready to do\nanything he was asked when there was no danger about it, agreed\nreadily.\n\nSo the horse was quickly harnessed, and when it was done the princess\nsaid:\n\n'Now ride the horse to the place of meeting outside the gates, and I\nwill join you by a shorter way, and will change places with you.'\nSamba, who loved riding in times of peace, mounted as she had told\nhim, and when he was safe in the saddle, his wife dealt the horse a\nsharp cut with her whip, and he dashed off through the town and\nthrough the ranks of the warriors who were waiting for him. Instantly\nthe whole place was in motion. Samba tried to check his steed, but he\nmight as well have sought to stop the wind, and it seemed no more than\na few minutes before they were grappling hand to hand with the Moors.\n\nThen a miracle happened. Samba the coward, the skulker, the terrified,\nno sooner found himself pressed hard, unable to escape, than something\nsprang into life within him, and he fought with all his might. And\nwhen a man of his size and strength begins to fight he generally\nfights well.\n\nThat day the victory was really owing to Samba, and the shouts of the\npeople were louder than ever. When he returned, bearing with him the\nsword of the Moorish chief, the old king pressed him in his arms and\nsaid:\n\n'Oh, my son, how can I ever show you how grateful I am for this\nsplendid service?'\n\nBut Samba, who was good and loyal when fear did not possess him,\nanswered straightly:\n\n'My father, it is to your daughter and not to me to whom thanks are\ndue, for it is she who has turned the coward that I was into a brave\nman.'\n\n(_Contes Soudainais._ Par C. Monteil.)\n\n\n\n\n_KUPTI AND IMANI_\n\n\nOnce there was a king who had two daughters; and their names were\nKupti and Imani. He loved them both very much, and spent hours in\ntalking to them, and one day he said to Kupti, the elder:\n\n'Are you satisfied to leave your life and fortune in my hands?'\n\n'Verily yes,' answered the princess, surprised at the question. 'In\nwhose hands should I leave them, if not in yours?'\n\nBut when he asked his younger daughter Imani the same question, she\nreplied:\n\n'No, indeed! If I had the chance I would make my own fortune.'\n\nAt this answer the king was very displeased, and said:\n\n'You are too young to know the meaning of your words. But, be it so; I\nwill give you the chance of gratifying your wish.'\n\nThen he sent for an old lame fakir who lived in a tumbledown hut on\nthe outskirts of the city, and when he had presented himself, the king\nsaid:\n\n'No doubt, as you are very old and nearly crippled, you would be glad\nof some young person to live with you and serve you; so I will send\nyou my younger daughter. She wants to earn her living, and she can do\nso with you.'\n\nOf course the old fakir had not a word to say, or, if he had, he was\nreally too astonished and troubled to say it; but the young princess\nwent off with him smiling, and tripped along quite gaily, whilst he\nhobbled home with her in perplexed silence.\n\nDirectly they got to the hut the fakir began to think what he could\narrange for the princess's comfort; but after all he was a fakir, and\nhis house was bare except for one bedstead, two old cooking pots and\nan earthen jar for water, and one cannot get much comfort out of those\nthings. However, the princess soon ended his perplexity by asking:\n\n'Have you any money?'\n\n'I have a penny somewhere,' replied the fakir.\n\n'Very well,' rejoined the princess, 'give me the penny and go out and\nborrow me a spinning-wheel and a loom.'\n\nAfter much seeking the fakir found the penny and started on his\nerrand, whilst the princess went off shopping. First she bought a\nfarthing's worth of oil, and then she bought three farthings' worth of\nflax. When she got back with her purchases she set the old man on the\nbedstead and rubbed his crippled leg with the oil for an hour. Then\nshe sat down to the spinning-wheel and spun and spun all night long\nwhilst the old man slept, until, in the morning, she had spun the\nfinest thread that ever was seen. Next she went to the loom and wove\nand wove until by the evening she had woven a beautiful silver cloth.\n\n'Now,' said she to the fakir, 'go into the market-place and sell my\ncloth whilst I rest.'\n\n'And what am I to ask for it?' said the old man.\n\n'Two gold pieces,' replied the princess.\n\nSo the fakir hobbled away, and stood in the market-place to sell the\ncloth. Presently the elder princess drove by, and when she saw the\ncloth she stopped and asked the price.\n\n'Two gold pieces,' said the fakir. And the princess gladly paid them,\nafter which the old fakir hobbled home with the money. As she had\ndone before so Imani did again day after day. Always she spent a penny\nupon oil and flax, always she tended the old man's lame limb, and spun\nand wove the most beautiful cloths and sold them at high prices.\nGradually the city became famous for her beautiful stuffs, the old\nfakir's lame leg became straighter and stronger, and the hole under\nthe floor of the hut where they kept their money became fuller and\nfuller of gold pieces. At last, one day, the princess said:\n\n  [Illustration: IMANI ATTENDS TO THE CRIPPLED FAKIR]\n\n'I really think we have got enough to live in greater comfort.' And\nshe sent for builders, and they built a beautiful house for her and\nthe old fakir, and in all the city there was none finer except the\nking's palace. Presently this reached the ears of the king, and when\nhe inquired whose it was they told him that it belonged to his\ndaughter.\n\n'Well,' exclaimed the king, 'she said that she would make her own\nfortune, and somehow or other she seems to have done it!'\n\nA little while after this, business took the king to another country,\nand before he went he asked his elder daughter what she would like him\nto bring her back as a gift.\n\n'A necklace of rubies,' answered she. And then the king thought he\nwould like to ask Imani too; so he sent a messenger to find out what\nsort of a present she wanted. The man happened to arrive just as she\nwas trying to disentangle a knot in her loom, and bowing low before\nher, he said:\n\n'The king sends me to inquire what you wish him to bring you as a\npresent from the country of Dur?' But Imani, who was only considering\nhow she could best untie the knot without breaking the thread,\nreplied:\n\n'Patience!' meaning that the messenger should wait till she was able\nto attend to him. But the messenger went off with this as an answer,\nand told the king that the only thing the princess Imani wanted was\n'patience.'\n\n'Oh!' said the king, 'I don't know whether that's a thing to be bought\nat Dur; I never had it myself, but if it is to be got I will buy it\nfor her.'\n\nNext day the king departed on his journey, and when his business at\nDur was completed he bought for Kupti a beautiful ruby necklace. Then\nhe said to a servant:\n\n'The princess Imani wants some patience. I did not know there was such\na thing, but you must go to the market and inquire, and if any is to\nbe sold, get it and bring it to me.'\n\nThe servant saluted and left the king's presence. He walked about the\nmarket for some time crying: 'Has anyone patience to sell? patience to\nsell?' And some of the people mocked, and some (who had no patience)\ntold him to go away and not be a fool; and some said: 'The fellow's\nmad! As though one could buy or sell patience!'\n\nAt length it came to the ears of the king of Dur that there was a\nmadman in the market trying to buy patience. And the king laughed and\nsaid:\n\n'I should like to see that fellow, bring him here!'\n\nAnd immediately his attendants went to seek the man, and brought him\nto the king, who asked:\n\n'What is this you want?'\n\nAnd the man replied: 'Sire! I am bidden to ask for patience.'\n\n'Oh,' said the king, 'you must have a strange master! What does he\nwant with it?'\n\n'My master wants it as a present for his daughter Imani,' replied the\nservant.\n\n'Well,' said the king, 'I know of some patience which the young lady\nmight have if she cares for it; but it is not to be bought.'\n\nNow the king's name was Subbar Khan, and Subbar _means_ 'patience';\nbut the messenger did not know that, or understand that he was making\na joke. However, he declared that the princess Imani was not only\nyoung and beautiful, but also the cleverest, most industrious, and\nkindest-hearted of princesses; and he would have gone on explaining\nher virtues had not the king laughingly put up his hand and stopped\nhim saying:\n\n'Well, well, wait a minute, and I will see what can be done.'\n\nWith that he got up and went to his own apartments and took out a\nlittle casket. Into the casket he put a fan, and shutting it up\ncarefully he brought it to the messenger and said:\n\n'Here is a casket. It has no lock nor key, and yet will open only to\nthe touch of the person who needs its contents--and whoever opens it\nwill obtain patience; but I can't tell whether it will be quite the\nkind of patience that is wanted.' And the servant bowed low, and took\nthe casket; but when he asked what was to be paid, the king would take\nnothing. So he went away and gave the casket and an account of his\nadventures to his master.\n\nAs soon as their father got back to his country Kupti and Imani each\ngot the presents he had brought for them. Imani was very surprised\nwhen the casket was brought to her by the hand of a messenger.\n\n'But,' she said, 'what is this? I never asked for anything! Indeed I\nhad no time, for the messenger ran away before I had unravelled my\ntangle.'\n\nBut the servant declared that the casket was for her, so she took it\nwith some curiosity, and brought it to the old fakir. The old man\ntried to open it, but in vain--so closely did the lid fit that it\nseemed to be quite immovable, and yet there was no lock, nor bolt, nor\nspring, nor anything apparently by which the casket was kept shut.\nWhen he was tired of trying he handed the casket to the princess, who\nhardly touched it before it opened quite easily, and there lay within\na beautiful fan. With a cry of surprise and pleasure Imani took out\nthe fan, and began to fan herself.\n\nHardly had she finished three strokes of the fan before there suddenly\nappeared from nowhere in particular, king Subbar Khan of Dur! The\nprincess gasped and rubbed her eyes, and the old fakir sat and gazed\nin such astonishment that for some minutes he could not speak. At\nlength he said:\n\n'Who may you be, fair sir, if you please?'\n\n'My name,' said the king, 'is Subbar Khan of Dur. This lady,' bowing\nto the princess, 'has summoned me, and here I am!'\n\n'I?'--stammered the princess--'I have summoned you? I never saw or\nheard of you in my life before, so how could that be?'\n\nThen the king told them how he had heard of a man in his own city of\nDur trying to buy patience, and how he had given him the fan in the\ncasket.\n\n'Both are magical,' he added; 'when anyone uses the fan, in three\nstrokes of it I am with them; if they fold it and tap it on the table,\nin three taps I am at home again. The casket will not open to all, but\nyou see it was this fair lady who asked for patience, and, as that is\nmy name, here I am, very much at her service.'\n\nNow the princess Imani, being of a high spirit, was anxious to fold up\nthe fan, and give the three taps which would send the king home again;\nbut the old fakir was very pleased with his guest, and so in one way\nand another they spent quite a pleasant evening together before Subbar\nKhan took his leave.\n\nAfter that he was often summoned; and as both the fakir and he were\nvery fond of chess and were good players, they used to sit up half the\nnight playing, and at last a little room in the house began to be\ncalled the king's room, and whenever he stayed late he used to sleep\nthere and go home again in the morning.\n\nBy-and-by it came to the ears of the princess Kupti that there was a\nrich and handsome young man visiting at her sister's house, and she\nwas very jealous. So she went one day to pay Imani a visit, and\npretended to be very affectionate, and interested in the house, and in\nthe way in which Imani and the old fakir lived, and of their\nmysterious and royal visitor. As the sisters went from place to place,\nKupti was shown Subbar Khan's room; and presently, making some excuse,\nshe slipped in there by herself and swiftly spread under the sheet\nwhich lay upon the bed a quantity of very finely powdered and\nsplintered glass which was poisoned, and which she had brought with\nher concealed in her clothes. Shortly afterwards she took leave of her\nsister, declaring that she could never forgive herself for not having\ncome near her all this time, and that she would now begin to make\namends for her neglect.\n\nThat very evening Subbar Khan came and sat up late with the old fakir\nplaying chess as usual. Very tired, he at length bade him and the\nprincess good-night and, as soon as he lay down on the bed, thousands\nof tiny, tiny splinters of poisoned glass ran into him. He could not\nthink what was the matter, and started this way and that until he was\npricked all over, and he felt as though he were burning from head to\nfoot. But he never said a word, only he sat up all night in agony of\nbody and in worse agony of mind to think that he should have been\npoisoned, as he guessed he was, in Imani's own house. In the morning,\nalthough he was nearly fainting, he still said nothing, and by means\nof the magic fan was duly transported home again. Then he sent for all\nthe physicians and doctors in his kingdom, but none could make out\nwhat his illness was; and so he lingered on for weeks and weeks trying\nevery remedy that anyone could devise, and passing sleepless nights\nand days of pain and fever and misery, until at last he was at the\npoint of death.\n\nMeanwhile the princess Imani and the old fakir were much troubled\nbecause, although they waved the magic fan again and again, no Subbar\nKhan appeared, and they feared that he had tired of them, or that some\nevil fate had overtaken him. At last the princess was in such a\nmiserable state of doubt and uncertainty that she determined to go\nherself to the kingdom of Dur and see what was the matter. Disguising\nherself in man's clothes as a young fakir, she set out upon her\njourney alone and on foot, as a fakir should travel. One evening she\nfound herself in a forest, and lay down under a great tree to pass the\nnight. But she could not sleep for thinking of Subbar Khan, and\nwondering what had happened to him. Presently she heard two great\nmonkeys talking to one another in the tree above her head.\n\n'Good evening, brother,' said one, 'whence come you--and what is the\nnews?'\n\n  [Illustration: IMANI LISTENS TO WHAT THE MONKEYS SAY]\n\n'I come from Dur,' said the other, 'and the news is that the king is\ndying.'\n\n'Oh,' said the first, 'I'm sorry to hear that, for he is a master hand\nat slaying leopards and creatures that ought not to be allowed to\nlive. What is the matter with him?'\n\n'No man knows,' replied the second monkey, 'but the birds, who see all\nand carry all messages, say that he is dying of poisoned glass that\nKupti the king's daughter spread upon his bed.'\n\n'Ah!' said the first monkey, 'that is sad news; but if they only knew\nit, the berries of the very tree we sit in, steeped in hot water, will\ncure such a disease as that in three days at most.'\n\n'True!' said the other, 'it's a pity that we can't tell some man of a\nmedicine so simple, and so save a good man's life. But men are so\nsilly; they go and shut themselves up in stuffy houses in stuffy\ncities instead of living in nice airy trees, and so they miss knowing\nall the best things.'\n\nNow when Imani heard that Subbar Khan was dying she began to weep\nsilently; but as she listened she dried her tears and sat up; and as\nsoon as daylight dawned over the forest she began to gather the\nberries from the tree until she had filled her cloth with a load of\nthem. Then she walked on as fast as she could, and in two days reached\nthe city of Dur. The first thing she did was to pass through the\nmarket crying:\n\n'Medicine for sale! Are any ill that need my medicine?' And presently\none man said to his neighbour:\n\n'See, there is a young fakir with medicine for sale, perhaps he could\ndo something for the king.'\n\n'Pooh!' replied the other, 'where so many grey-beards have failed, how\nshould a lad like that be of any use?'\n\n'Still,' said the first, 'he might try.' And he went up and spoke to\nImani, and together they set out for the palace and announced that\nanother doctor was come to try and cure the king.\n\nAfter some delay Imani was admitted to the sick room, and, whilst\n_she_ was so well disguised that the king did not recognize her, _he_\nwas so wasted by illness that she hardly knew _him_. But she began at\nonce, full of hope, by asking for some apartments all to herself and a\npot in which to boil water. As soon as the water was heated she\nsteeped some of her berries in it and gave the mixture to the king's\nattendants and told them to wash his body with it. The first washing\ndid so much good that the king slept quietly all the night. Again the\nsecond day she did the same, and this time the king declared he was\nhungry, and called for food. After the third day he was quite well,\nonly very weak from his long illness. On the fourth day he got up and\nsat upon his throne, and then sent messengers to fetch the physician\nwho had cured him. When Imani appeared everyone marvelled that so\nyoung a man should be so clever a doctor; and the king wanted to give\nhim immense presents of money and of all kinds of precious things. At\nfirst Imani would take nothing, but at last she said that, if she must\nbe rewarded, she would ask for the king's signet ring and his\nhandkerchief. So, as she would take nothing more, the king gave her\nhis signet ring and his handkerchief, and she departed and travelled\nback to her own country as fast as she could.\n\nA little while after her return, when she had related to the fakir all\nher adventures, they sent for Subbar Khan by means of the magic fan;\nand when he appeared they asked him why he had stayed away for so\nlong. Then he told them all about his illness, and how he had been\ncured, and when he had finished the princess rose up and, opening a\ncabinet, brought out the ring and handkerchief, and said, laughing:\n\n'Are these the rewards you gave to your doctor?'\n\nAt that the king looked, and he recognised her, and understood in a\nmoment all that had happened; and he jumped up and put the magic fan\nin his pocket, and declared that no one should send him away to his\nown country any more unless Imani would come with him and be his wife.\nAnd so it was settled, and the old fakir and Imani went to the city of\nDur, where Imani was married to the king and lived happily ever after.\n\n(Punjabi story.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE MAIA_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a woman who had a pretty cottage and\ngarden right in the middle of a forest. All through the summer she was\nquite happy tending her flowers and listening to the birds singing in\nthe trees, but in the winter, when snow lay on the ground and wolves\ncame howling about the door, she felt very lonely and frightened. 'If\nI only had a child to speak to, however small, what a comfort it would\nbe!' she said to herself. And the heavier the snow fell the oftener\nshe repeated the words. And at last a day arrived when she could bear\nthe silence and solitude no longer, and set off to walk to the nearest\nvillage to beg someone to sell her or lend her a child.\n\nThe snow was very deep, and reached above her ankles, and it took her\nalmost an hour to go a few hundred yards.\n\n'It will be dark at this rate before I get to the first house,'\nthought she, and stopped to look about her. Suddenly a little woman in\na high-crowned hat stepped from behind a tree in front of her.\n\n'This is a bad day for walking! Are you going far?' inquired the\nlittle woman.\n\n'Well, I want to go to the village; but I don't see how I am ever to\nget there,' answered the other.\n\n'And may I ask what important business takes you there?' asked the\nlittle woman, who was really a witch.\n\n'My house is so dreary, with no one to speak to; I cannot stay in it\nalone, and I am seeking for a child--I don't mind how small she\nis--who will keep me company.'\n\n'Oh, if that is all, you need go no further,' replied the witch,\nputting her hand in her pocket. 'Look, here is a barley corn, as a\nfavour you shall have it for twelve shillings, and if you plant it in\na flower-pot, and give it plenty of water, in a few days you will see\nsomething wonderful.'\n\nThis promise raised the woman's spirits. She gladly paid down the\nprice, and as soon as she returned home she dug a hole in a flower-pot\nand put in the seed.\n\nFor three days she waited, hardly taking her eyes from the flower-pot\nin its warm corner, and on the third morning she saw that, while she\nwas asleep, a tall red tulip had shot up, sheathed in green leaves.\n\n'What a beautiful blossom,' cried the woman, stooping to kiss it,\nwhen, as she did so, the red petals burst asunder, and in the midst of\nthem was a lovely little girl only an inch high. This tiny little\ncreature was seated on a mattress of violets, and covered with a quilt\nof rose leaves, and she opened her eyes and smiled at the woman as if\nshe had known her all her life.\n\n'Oh! you darling; I shall never be lonely any more!' she exclaimed in\nrapture; and the baby nodded her head as much as to say:\n\n'No, of course you won't!'\n\nThe woman lost no time in seeking for a roomy walnut-shell, which she\nlined thickly with white satin, and on it she placed the mattress,\nwith the child, whom she called Maia, upon it. This was her bed, and\nstood on a chair close to where her foster-mother was sleeping; but in\nthe morning she was lifted out, and placed on a leaf in the middle of\na large bowl of water, and given two white horse-hairs to row herself\nabout with. She was the happiest baby that ever was seen, and passed\nthe whole day singing to herself, in a language of her own, that\nnobody else could understand.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor some weeks the two lived together and never grew tired of each\nother's society, and then a terrible misfortune happened. One night,\nwhen the foster-mother lay sound asleep after a hard day's work, a\nbig, ugly, wet frog hopped in through the open window and stood\nstaring at Maia under her quilt of rose leaves.\n\n'Dear me! that is quite a pretty little girl,' thought the frog to\nherself; 'she would make a nice wife for my son.' And picking up the\nwalnut cradle in her mouth, she hopped with it to the edge of a stream\nwhich ran through the garden.\n\n'Come and see what I have brought you,' called the old frog, when she\nreached her home in the mud.\n\n'Croak! croak! croak!' uttered the son, gazing with pleasure at the\nsleeping child.\n\n'Hush; don't make such a noise or you will wake her!' whispered the\nmother. 'I mean her to be a wife for you, and while we are preparing\nfor the wedding we will set her on that water-lily leaf in the middle\nof the brook, so that she may not be able to run away from us.'\n\nIt was on this green floating prison that Maia awoke, frightened and\npuzzled, with the first rays of the sun. She stood up straight on the\nleaf, looking about her for a way of escape, and, finding none, she\nsat down again and began to weep bitterly. At length her sobs were\nheard by the old frog, who was busy in her house at the bottom of the\nmarsh, twisting rushes into a soft carpet for Maia's feet, and twining\nreeds and grapes over the doorway, to make it look pretty for the\nbride.\n\n'Ah! the poor child feels lost and unhappy,' she thought pitifully,\nfor her heart was kind. 'Well, I have just done, and then my son and I\nwill go to fetch her. When she sees how handsome he is she will be all\nsmiles again.' And in a few minutes they both appeared beside the\nleaf.\n\n'This is your future husband. Did you ever see anyone like him?' asked\nthe proud mother, pushing him forward. But, after one glance, Maia\nonly cried the more; and the little fishes who lived in the stream\ncame swimming round to see what was the matter.\n\n'It is absurd that such a pretty creature should be forced to take a\nhusband whom she does not want,' said they to each other. 'And such an\nugly one too! However, we can easily prevent it.' And by turns they\ngnawed the stem of the lily-leaf close to the root, till at length it\nwas free, and taking it in their mouths they bore Maia far away, till\nthe little stream grew into a great river.\n\nOh, how Maia enjoyed that voyage, when once she became quite certain\nthat the frogs could no longer reach her. Past many towns she went,\nand the people on the banks all turned to look at her, and exclaimed:\n\n'What a lovely little girl! Where can she have come from?'\n\n'What a lovely little girl!' twittered the birds in the bushes. And a\nblue butterfly fell in love with her, and would not leave her; so she\ntook off her sash, which just matched him, and tied it round his body,\nso that with this new kind of horse she travelled much faster than\nbefore.\n\nUnluckily, a great cockchafer, who was buzzing over the river,\nhappened to catch sight of her, and caught her up in his claws. The\npoor butterfly was terribly frightened at the sight of him, and he\nstruggled hard to free himself, so that the sash bow gave way, and he\nflew off into the sunshine. But Maia wasn't so fortunate, and though\nthe cockchafer collected honey from the flowers for her dinner, and\ntold her several times how pretty she was, she could not feel at ease\nwith him. The cockchafer noticed this, and summoned his sisters to\nplay with her; but they only stared rudely, and said:\n\n'Where did you pick up that strange object? She is very ugly to be\nsure, but one ought to pity her for she has only two legs.'\n\n'Yes, and no feelers,' added another; 'and she is so thin! Well, our\nbrother has certainly very odd taste!'\n\n  [Illustration: MAIA CARRIED OFF BY THE COCKCHAFER]\n\n'Indeed he has!' echoed the others. And they repeated it so loud and\nso often that, in the end, he believed it too, and snatching her up\nfrom the tree where he had placed her, set her down upon a daisy which\ngrew near the ground.\n\nHere Maia stayed for the whole summer, and really was not at all\nunhappy. She ventured to walk about by herself, and wove herself a bed\nof some blades of grass, and placed it under a clover leaf for\nshelter. The red cups that grew in the moss held as much dew as she\nwanted, and the cockchafer had taught her how to get honey. But summer\ndoes not last for ever, and by-and-by the flowers withered, and\ninstead of dew there was snow and ice. Maia did not know what to do,\nfor her clothes were worn to rags, and though she tried to roll\nherself up in a dry leaf it broke under her fingers. It soon was plain\nto her that if she did not get some other shelter she would die of\nhunger and cold.\n\nSo, gathering up all her courage, she left the forest and crossed the\nroad into what had been, in the summer, a beautiful field of waving\ncorn, but was now only a mass of hard stalks. She wandered on, seeing\nnothing but the sky above her head, till she suddenly found herself\nclose to an opening which seemed to lead underground.\n\n'It will be warm, at any rate,' thought Maia, 'and perhaps the person\nwho lives there will give me something to eat. At any rate, I can't be\nworse off than I am now.' And she walked boldly down the passage.\nBy-and-by she came to a door which stood ajar, and, peeping in,\ndiscovered a whole room full of corn. This gave her heart, and she\nwent on more swiftly, till she reached a kitchen where an old field\nmouse was baking a cake.\n\n'You poor little animal,' cried the mouse, who had never seen anything\nlike her before, 'you look starved to death! Come and sit here and get\nwarm, and share my dinner with me.'\n\nMaia almost wept with joy at the old mouse's kind words. She needed no\nsecond bidding, but ate more than she had ever done in her life,\nthough it was not a breakfast for a humming-bird! When she had quite\nfinished she put out her hand and smiled, and the old mouse said to\nher:\n\n'Can you tell stories? If so you may stay with me till the sun gets\nhot again, and you shall help me with my house. But it is dull here in\nthe winter unless you have somebody clever enough to amuse you.'\n\nYes, Maia had learned a great many stories from her foster-mother,\nand, besides, there were all her own adventures, and her escapes from\ndeath. She knew also how a room should be swept, and never failed to\nget up early in the morning and have everything clean and tidy for the\nold mouse.\n\nSo the winter passed away pleasantly, and Maia began to talk of the\nspring, and of the time when she would have to go out into the world\nagain and seek her fortune.\n\n'Oh, you need not begin to think of _that_ for a while yet,' answered\nthe field-mouse. 'Up on the earth they have a proverb:\n\n    When the day lengthens\n    Then the cold strengthens;\n\nit has been quite warm up to now, and the snow may fall any time.\nNever a winter goes by without it, and _then_ you will be very\nthankful you are _here_, and not outside! But I dare say it is quiet\nfor a young thing like you,' she added, 'and I have invited my\nneighbour the mole to come and pay us a visit. He has been asleep all\nthese months, but I hear he is waking up again. You would be a lucky\ngirl if he took into his head to marry you, only, unfortunately, he is\nblind, and cannot see how pretty you are.' And for this blindness Maia\nfelt truly glad, as she did not want a mole for a husband.\n\nHowever, by-and-by he paid his promised visit, and Maia did not like\nhim at all. He might be as rich and learned as possible, but he hated\nthe sun, and the trees, and the flowers, and all that Maia loved best.\nTo be sure, being blind, he had never seen them, and, like many other\npeople, he thought that anything _he_ did not know was not worth\nknowing. But Maia's tales amused him, though he would not for the\nworld have let her see it, and he admired her voice when she sang:\n\n      Mary, Mary, quite contrary,\n      How does your garden grow?\n\n    Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top;\n\nthough he told her that it was all nonsense, and that trees and\ngardens were mere foolishness. When she was _his_ wife he would teach\nher things better worth learning.\n\n'Meanwhile,' he said, with a grand air, 'I have burrowed a passage\nfrom this house to my own, in which you can walk; but I warn you not\nto be frightened at a great dead creature that has fallen through a\nhole in the roof, and is lying on one side.'\n\n'What sort of creature is it?' asked Maia eagerly.\n\n'Oh, I really can't tell you,' answered the mole, indifferently; 'it\nis covered with something soft, and it has two thin legs, and a long\nsharp thing sticking out of its head.'\n\n'It is a bird,' cried Maia joyfully, 'and I love birds! It must have\ndied of cold,' she added, dropping her voice. 'Oh! good Mr. Mole, do\ntake me to see it!'\n\n'Come then, as I am going home,' replied the mole. And calling to the\nold field-mouse to accompany them, they all set out.\n\n'Here it is,' said the mole at last; 'dear me, how thankful I am Fate\ndid not make me a bird. They can't say anything but \"twit, twit,\" and\ndie with the first breath of cold.'\n\n'Ah, yes, poor useless creature,' answered the field-mouse. But while\nthey were talking, Maia crept round to the other side and stroked the\nfeathers of the little swallow, and kissed his eyes.\n\nAll that night she lay awake, thinking of the swallow lying dead in\nthe passage. At length she could bear it no longer, and stole away to\nthe place where the hay was kept, and wove a thick carpet. Next she\nwent to the field-mouse's store of cotton which she picked in the\nsummer from some of the marsh flowers, and carrying them both down the\npassage, she tucked the cotton underneath the bird and spread the hay\nquilt over him.\n\n'Perhaps you were one of the swallows who sang to me in the summer,'\nsaid she. 'I wish I could have brought you to life again; but now,\ngood-bye!' And she laid her face, wet with tears, on the breast of the\nbird. Surely she felt a faint movement against her cheek? Yes, there\nit was again! Suppose the bird was not dead after all, but only\nsenseless with cold and hunger! And at this thought Maia hastened back\nto the house, and brought some grains of corn, and a drop of water in\na leaf. This she held close to the swallow's beak, which he opened\nunconsciously, and when he had sipped the water she gave him the\ngrains one by one.\n\n'Make no noise, so that no one may guess you are not dead,' she said.\n'To-night I will bring you some more food, and I will tell the mole\nthat he must stuff up the hole again, as it makes the passage too cold\nfor me to walk in. And now farewell.' And off she went, back to the\nfield-mouse, who was sound asleep.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter some days of Maia's careful nursing, the swallow felt strong\nenough to talk, and he told Maia how he came to be in the place where\nshe found him. Before he was big enough to fly very high he had torn\nhis wing in a rosebush, so that he could not keep up with his family\nand friends when they took their departure to warmer lands. In their\nswift course they never noticed that their little brother was not with\nthem, and at last he dropped on the ground from sheer fatigue, and\nmust have rolled down the hole into the passage.\n\nIt was very lucky for the swallow that both the mole and the\nfield-mouse thought he was dead, and did not trouble about him, so\nthat when the spring _really_ came, and the sun was hot, and blue\nhyacinths grew in the woods and primroses in the hedges, he was as\ntall and strong as any of his companions.\n\n'You have saved my life, dear little Maia,' said he; 'but now the time\nhas come for me to leave you--unless,' he added, 'you will let me\ncarry you on my back far away from this gloomy prison.'\n\nMaia's eyes sparkled at the thought, but she shook her head bravely.\n\n'Yes, you must go; but I must stay behind,' she answered. 'The\nfield-mouse has been good to me, and I cannot desert her like that. Do\nyou think you can open the hole for yourself?' she asked anxiously.\n'If so, you had better begin now, for this evening we are to have\nsupper with the mole, and it would never do for my foster-mother to\nfind you working at it.'\n\n'That is true,' answered the swallow. And flying up to the\nroof,--which, after all, was not very high above them--he set to work\nwith his bill, and soon let a flood of sunshine into the dark place.\n\n'_Won't_ you come with me, Maia?' said he. And though her heart longed\nfor the trees and the flowers, she answered as before:\n\n'No, I cannot.'\n\nThat one glimpse of the sun was all Maia had for some time, for the\ncorn sprung up so thickly over the hole and about the house, that\nthere might almost as well have been no sun at all. However, though\nshe missed her bird friend every moment, she had no leisure to be\nidle, for the field-mouse had told her that very soon she was to be\nmarried to the mole, and kept her spinning wool and cotton for her\noutfit. And as she had never in her life made a dress, four clever\nspiders were persuaded to spend the days underground, turning the wool\nand cotton into tiny garments. Maia liked the clothes, but hated the\nthought of the blind mole, only she did not know how to escape him. In\nthe evenings, when the spiders were going to their homes for the\nnight, she would walk with them to the door and wait till a puff of\nwind blew the corn ears apart, and she could see the sky.\n\n'If the swallow would only come now,' she said to herself, 'I would\ngo with him to the end of the world.' But he never came!\n\n'Your outfit is all finished,' said the field-mouse one day when the\nberries were red and the leaves yellow, 'and the mole and I have\ndecided that your wedding shall be in four weeks' time.'\n\n  [Illustration: MAIA AND THE SPIDERS IN THE EVENING]\n\n'Oh, not so soon! not so soon!' cried Maia, bursting into tears; which\nmade the field-mouse very angry, and declare that Maia had no more\nsense than other girls, and did not know what was good for her. Then\nthe mole arrived, and carried her on his back to see the new house he\nhad dug for her, which was so very far under ground that Maia's tiny\nlegs could never bring her up even as high as the field-mouse's\ndwelling, from which she might see the sunlight. Her heart grew\nheavier and heavier as the days went by, and in the last evening of\nall she crept out into the field among the stubble, to watch the sun\nset before she bade it good-bye for ever.\n\n'Farewell, farewell,' she said 'and farewell to my little swallow. Ah!\nif he only knew, he would come to help me.'\n\n  [Illustration: HE HELPED HER TO JUMP FROM THE SWALLOW'S BACK]\n\n'Twit! twit,' cried a voice just above her; and the swallow fluttered\nto the ground beside her. 'You look sad; are you _really_ going to let\nthat ugly mole marry you?'\n\n'I shall soon die, that is one comfort,' she answered weeping. But the\nswallow only said:\n\n'Tut! tut! get on my back, as I told you before, and I will take you\nto a land where the sun always shines, and you will soon forget that\nsuch a creature as a mole ever existed.'\n\n'Yes, I will come,' said Maia.\n\nThen the swallow tore off one of the corn stalks with his strong beak,\nand bade her tie it safely to his wing. And they started off, flying,\nflying south for many a day.\n\nOh! how happy Maia was to see the beautiful earth again! A hundred\ntimes she longed for the swallow to stop, but he always told her that\nthe best was yet to be; and they flew on and on, only halting for\nshort rests, till they reached a place covered with tall white marble\npillars, some standing high, wreathed in vines, out of which endless\nswallows' heads were peeping; others lying stretched among the\nflowers, white, yellow, and blue.\n\n'I live up there,' said the swallow, pointing to the tallest of the\npillars. 'But such a house would never do for you, as you would only\nfall out of it and kill yourself. So choose one of those flowers\nbelow, and you shall have it for your own, and sleep all night curled\nup in its leaves.'\n\n'I will have that one,' answered Maia, pointing to a white flower\nshaped like a star, with a tiny crinkled wreath of red and yellow in\nits centre, and a long stem that swayed in the wind; 'that one is the\nprettiest of all, and it smells so sweet.' Then the swallow flew down\ntowards it; but as they drew near they saw a tiny little manikin with\na crown on his head, and wings on his shoulders, balancing himself on\none of the leaves. 'Ah, that is the king of the flower-spirits,'\nwhispered the swallow. And the king stretched out his hands to Maia,\nand helped her to jump from the swallow's back.\n\n'I have waited for you for a long while,' said he, 'and now you have\ncome at last to be my queen.'\n\nAnd Maia smiled, and stood beside him as all the fairies that dwelt in\nthe flowers ran to fetch presents for her; and the best of them all\nwas a pair of lovely gauzy blue wings to help fly about like one of\nthemselves.\n\nSo instead of marrying the mole, Little Maia was crowned a queen, and\nthe fairies danced round her in a ring, while the swallow sang the\nwedding song.\n\n\n\n\n_DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND_\n\n\nIn a village in Hindustan there once lived a merchant who, although he\nrose early, worked hard, and rested late, remained very poor; and\nill-luck so dogged him that he determined at last to go to some\ndistant country and there to try his fortune. Twelve years passed by;\nhis luck had turned, and now he had gathered great wealth, so that\nhaving plenty to keep him in comfort for the rest of his days, he\nthought once more of his native village, where he desired to spend the\nremainder of his life among his own people. In order to carry his\nriches with him in safety over the many weary miles that lay between\nhim and his home, he bought some magnificent jewels, which he locked\nup in a little box and wore concealed upon his person; and, so as not\nto draw the attention of the thieves who infested the highways and\nmade their living by robbing travellers, he started off in the poor\nclothes of a man who has nothing to lose.\n\nThus prepared, he travelled quickly, and within a few days' journey\nfrom his own village came to a city where he determined to buy better\ngarments and--now that he was no longer afraid of thieves--to look\nmore like the rich man he had become. In his new raiment he approached\nthe city, and near the great gate he found a bazaar where, amongst\nmany shops filled with costly silks, and carpets, and goods of all\ncountries, was one finer than all the rest. There, amidst his goods,\nspread out to the best advantage, sat the owner smoking a long silver\npipe, and thither the merchant bent his steps, and saluting the owner\npolitely, sat down also and began to make some purchases. Now, the\nproprietor of the shop, Beeka Mull by name, was a very shrewd man, and\nas he and the merchant conversed, he soon felt sure that his customer\nwas richer than he seemed, and was trying to conceal the fact. Certain\npurchases having been made, he invited the new-comer to refresh\nhimself and in a short time they were chatting pleasantly together. In\nthe course of the conversation Beeka Mull asked the merchant whither\nhe was travelling, and hearing the name of the village, he observed:\n\n'Ah, you had better be careful on that road--it's a very bad place for\nthieves.'\n\nThe merchant turned pale at these words. It would be such a bitter\nthing, he thought, just at the end of his journey to be robbed of all\nthe fortune he had heaped up with such care. But this bland and\nprosperous Beeka Mull must surely know best, so presently he said:\n\n'Lala-ji,[3] could you oblige me by locking up for me a small box for\na short while? When once I get to my village I could bring back\nhalf-a-dozen sturdy men of my own kinsfolk and claim it again.'\n\nThe Lala shook his head. 'I could not do it,' replied he. 'I am sorry;\nbut such things are not my business. I should be afraid to undertake\nit.'\n\n'But,' pleaded the merchant, 'I know no one in this city, and you must\nsurely have some place where you keep your own precious things. Do\nthis, I pray you, as a great favour.'\n\nStill Beeka Mull politely but firmly refused; but the merchant,\nfeeling that he had now betrayed the fact that he was richer than he\nseemed, and being loth to make more people aware of it by inquiring\nelsewhere, continued to press him, until at last he consented. The\nmerchant produced the little box of jewels, and Beeka Mull locked it\nup for him in a strong chest with other precious stones; and so, with\nmany promises and compliments, they parted.\n\nIn a place like an Eastern bazaar, where the shops lie with wide open\nfronts, and with their goods displayed not only within but without on\nterraces and verandahs raised a few feet above the public roadway,\nsuch a long talk as that between Beeka Mull and the merchant could not\nbut attract some attention from the other shop-keepers in the narrow\nstreet. If the merchant had but known it, nearly every shop-owner in\nthat district was a thief, and the cleverest and biggest of all was\nBeeka Mull. But he did not know it, only he could not help feeling a\nlittle uneasy at having thus parted with all his wealth to a stranger.\nAnd so, as he wandered down the street, making a purchase here and\nthere, he managed in one way and another to ask some questions about\nthe honesty of Beeka Mull, and each rascal whom he spoke to, knowing\nthat there was some good reason in the question, and hoping to get in\nreturn some share of the spoils, replied in praise of Beeka Mull as a\nmodel of all the virtues.\n\nIn this way the merchant's fears were stilled, and, with a\ncomparatively light heart, he travelled on to his village; and within\na week or so returned to the city with half-a-dozen sturdy young\nnephews and friends whom he had enlisted to help him carry home his\nprecious box.\n\nAt the great market-place in the centre of the city the merchant left\nhis friends, saying that he would go and get the box of jewels and\nrejoin them, to which they consented, and away he went. Arrived at the\nshop of Beeka Mull, he went up and saluted him.\n\n'Good-day, Lala-ji,' said he. But the Lala pretended not to see him.\nSo he repeated the salutation. 'What do you want?' snapped Beeka Mull;\n'you've said your \"good-day\" twice, why don't you tell me your\nbusiness?'\n\n'Don't you remember me?' asked the merchant.\n\n'Remember you?' growled the other; 'no, why should I? I have plenty\nto do to remember good customers without trying to remember every\nbeggar who comes whining for charity.'\n\nWhen he heard this the merchant began to tremble.\n\n'Lala-ji!' he cried, 'surely you remember me and the little box I gave\nyou to take care of? And you promised--yes, indeed, you promised very\nkindly--that I might return to claim it, and----'\n\n'You scoundrel,' roared Beeka Mull, 'get out of my shop! Be off with\nyou, you impudent scamp! Every one knows that I never keep treasures\nfor anyone; I have trouble enough to do to keep my own! Come, off with\nyou!' With that he began to push the merchant out of the shop; and,\nwhen the poor man resisted, two of the bystanders came to Beeka Mull's\nhelp, and flung the merchant out into the road, like a bale of goods\ndropped from a camel. Slowly he picked himself up out of the dust,\nbruised, battered, and bleeding, but feeling nothing of the pain in\nhis body, nothing but a dreadful numbing sensation that, after all, he\nwas ruined and lost! Slowly he dragged himself a little further from\nwhere the fat and furious Beeka Mull still stood amongst his\ndisordered silks and carpets, and coming to a friendly wall he\ncrouched and leant against it, and putting his head into his hands\ngave himself up to an agony of misery and despair.\n\nThere he sat motionless, like one turned to stone, whilst darkness\nfell around him; and when, about eleven o'clock that night, a certain\ngay young fellow named Kooshy Ram passed by with a friend, he saw the\nmerchant sitting hunched against the wall, and remarked: 'A thief, no\ndoubt.' 'You are wrong,' returned the other, 'thieves don't sit in\nfull view of people like that, even at night.' And so the two passed\non, and thought no more of him. About five o'clock next morning Kooshy\nRam was returning home again, when, to his astonishment, he saw the\nmiserable merchant still sitting as he had seen him sit hours before.\nSurely something must be the matter with a man who sat all night in\nthe open street, and Kooshy Ram resolved to see what it was; so he\nwent up and shook the merchant gently by the shoulder. 'Who are you?'\nasked he--'and what are you doing here--are you ill?'\n\n'Ill?' said the merchant in a hollow voice, 'yes; ill with a sickness\nfor which there is no medicine.'\n\n'Oh, nonsense!' cried Kooshy Ram. 'Come along with me, I know a\nmedicine that will cure you, I think.' So the young man seized the\nmerchant by the arm, and hoisting him to his feet, dragged him to his\nown lodging; where he first of all gave him a large glass of wine, and\nthen, after he had refreshed him with food, bade him tell his\nadventures.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMeanwhile the merchant's companions in the market-place, being\ndull-witted persons, thought that as he did not return he must have\ngone home by himself; and as soon as they were tired of waiting they\nwent back to their village and left him to look after his own affairs.\nHe would therefore have fared badly had it not been for his rescuer,\nKooshy Ram, who, whilst still a boy, had been left a great deal of\nmoney with no one to advise him how to spend it. He was high-spirited,\nkind-hearted, and shrewd into the bargain; but he threw away his money\nlike water, and generally upon the nearest thing or person in his way,\nand that, alas! most often was himself! Now, however, he had taken it\ninto his head to befriend this miserable merchant, and he meant to do\nit; and on his side the merchant felt confidence revive, and without\nfurther ado told all that had happened.\n\nKooshy Ram laughed heartily at the idea of any stranger entrusting his\nwealth to Beeka Mull.\n\n'Why, he is the greatest rascal in the city,' he cried, 'unless you\nbelieve what some of them say of me! Well, there is nothing to be\ndone for the present, but just to stay here quietly, and I think that\nat the end of a short time I shall find a medicine which will heal\nyour sickness.' At this the merchant again took courage, and a little\nease crept into his heart as he gratefully accepted his new friend's\ninvitation.\n\nA few days later Kooshy Ram sent for some friends to see him, and\ntalked with them long, and, although the merchant did not hear the\nconversation, he did hear shouts of laughter as though at some good\njoke; but the laughter echoed dully in his own heart, for the more he\nconsidered the more he despaired of ever recovering his fortune from\nthe grasp of Beeka Mull.\n\nOne day, soon after this, Kooshy Ram came to him and said:\n\n'You remember the wall where I found you that night, near Beeka Mull's\nshop?'\n\n'Yes, indeed I do,' answered the merchant.\n\n'Well,' continued Kooshy Ram, 'this afternoon you must go and stand in\nthat same spot and watch; and when someone gives you a signal, you\nmust go up to Beeka Mull and salute him and say, \"Oh, Lala-ji, will\nyou kindly let me have back that box of mine which you have on\ntrust?\"'\n\n'What's the use of that?' asked the merchant. 'He won't do it any more\nnow than he would when I asked him before.'\n\n'Never mind!' replied Kooshy Ram, 'do exactly what I tell you, and\nrepeat exactly what I say, word for word, and I will answer for the\nrest.'\n\nSo, that afternoon, the merchant at a certain time went and stood by\nthe wall as he was told. He noticed that Beeka Mull saw him, but\nneither took any heed of the other. Presently up the bazaar came a\ngorgeous palanquin like those in which ladies of rank are carried\nabout. It was borne by four bearers well dressed in rich liveries, and\nits curtains and trappings were truly magnificent. In attendance was\na grave-looking personage whom the merchant recognized as one of the\nfriends who visited Kooshy Ram; and behind him came a servant with a\nbox covered with a cloth upon his head.\n\nThe palanquin was borne along at a smart pace and was set down at\nBeeka Mull's shop. The fat shop-keeper was on his feet at once, and\nbowed deeply as the gentleman in attendance advanced.\n\n'May I inquire,' he said, 'who this is in the palanquin that deigns to\nfavour my humble shop with a visit? And what may I do for her?'\n\nThe gentleman, after whispering at the curtain of the palanquin,\nexplained that this was a relative of his who was travelling, but as\nher husband could go no further with her, she desired to leave with\nBeeka Mull a box of jewels for safe custody. Lala bowed again to the\nground. 'It was not,' he said, 'quite in his way of business; but of\ncourse, if he could please the lady, he would be most happy, and would\nguard the box with his life.' Then the servant carrying the box was\ncalled up; the box was unlocked, and a mass of jewellery laid open to\nthe gaze of the enraptured Lala, whose mouth watered as he turned over\nthe rich gems.\n\nAll this the merchant had watched from the distance, and now he\nsaw--could he be mistaken?--no, he distinctly saw a hand beckoning\nthrough the curtain on that side of the palanquin away from the shop.\n'The signal! Was this the signal?' thought he. The hand beckoned\nagain, impatiently it seemed to him. So forward he went, very quietly,\nand saluting Beeka Mull, who was sitting turning over the contents of\nthis amazing box of jewels which fortune and some fools were putting\ninto his care, he said:\n\n'Oh, Lala-ji, will you kindly let me have back that box of mine which\nyou have on trust?'\n\nThe Lala looked up as though he had been stung; but quickly the\nthought flashed through his mind that if this man began making a fuss\nagain he would lose the confidence of these new and richer customers;\nso he controlled himself, and answered:\n\n'Dear me, of course, yes! I had forgotten all about it.' And he went\noff and brought the little box and put it into the merchant's\ntrembling hands. Quickly the latter pulled out the key, which hung by\na string round his neck, and opened the box; and when he saw that his\ntreasures were all there he rushed into the road, and, with the box\nunder his arm, began dancing like a madman, with great shouts and\nscreams of laughter. Just then a messenger came running up and,\nsaluting the gentleman attending the palanquin, he said:\n\n'The lady's husband has returned, and is prepared to travel with her,\nso that there is no necessity to deposit the jewels.' Whereat the\ngentleman quickly closed and relocked the box, and handed it back to\nthe waiting servant. Then from the palanquin came a yell of laughter,\nand out jumped--not a lady--but Kooshy Ram, who immediately ran and\njoined the merchant in the middle of the road and danced as madly as\nhe. Beeka Mull stood and stared stupidly at them; then, with a shrill\ncackle of laughter, he flung off his turban, bounced out into the road\nwith the other two, and fell to dancing and snapping his fingers until\nhe was out of breath.\n\n'Lala-ji,' said the gentleman who had played the part of the relative\nattendant on the palanquin, 'why do you dance? The merchant dances\nbecause he has recovered his fortune; Kooshy Ram dances because he is\na madman and has tricked you; but why do _you_ dance?'\n\n'I dance,' panted Beeka Ram, glaring at him with a bloodshot eye, 'I\ndance because I knew thirteen different ways of deceiving people by\npretending confidence in them. I didn't know there were any more, and\nnow here's a fourteenth! That's why I dance!'\n\n(Punjabi Story, Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[3] 'Lala' is a complimentary title: 'ji' a polite affix; the\nexpression is somewhat equivalent to 'Dear Sir.'\n\n\n\n\n_THE GREEN KNIGHT_\n\n\nThere lived once a king and queen who had an only daughter, a charming\nand beautiful girl, dearer to them than anything else in the world.\nWhen the princess was twelve years old the queen fell sick, and\nnothing that could be done for her was of any use. All the doctors in\nthe kingdom did their best to cure her, but in spite of their efforts\nshe grew worse and worse. As she was about to die, she sent for the\nking and said to him:\n\n'Promise me that whatever our daughter asks, you will do, no matter\nwhether you wish to or not.'\n\nThe king at first hesitated, but as she added:\n\n'Unless you promise this I cannot die in peace,' he at length did as\nshe desired, and gave the promise, after which she became quite happy\nand died.\n\nIt happened that near the king's palace lived a noble lady, whose\nlittle girl was of about the same age as the princess, and the two\nchildren were always together. After the queen's death the princess\nbegged that this lady should come to live with her in the palace. The\nking was not quite pleased with this arrangement, for he distrusted\nthe lady; but the princess wished so much for it that he did not like\nto refuse.\n\n'I am lonely, father,' she said, 'and all the beautiful presents you\ngive me cannot make up to me for the loss of my mother. If this lady\ncomes to live here I shall almost feel as if the queen had come back\nto me.'\n\nSo a magnificent suite of rooms was prepared and set aside for the\nnew-comers, and the little princess was wild with joy at the thought\nof having her friends so near her. The lady and her daughter arrived,\nand for a long time all went well. They were very kind to the\nmotherless princess, and she almost began to forget how dull she had\nbeen before they came. Then, one day, as she and the other girl were\nplaying together in the gardens of the palace, the lady came to them,\ndressed for a journey, and kissed the princess tenderly, saying:\n\n'Farewell, my child; my daughter and I must leave you and go far\naway.'\n\nThe poor princess began to cry bitterly. 'Oh! you must not leave me!'\nshe sobbed. 'What shall I do without you? Please, oh! please stay.'\n\nThe lady shook her head.\n\n'It almost breaks my heart to go, dear child,' she said, 'but, alas!\nit must be.'\n\n'Is there nothing that can keep you here?' asked the princess.\n\n'Only one thing,' answered the lady, 'and as that is impossible, we\nwill not speak of it.'\n\n'Nothing is impossible,' persisted the princess. 'Tell me what it is,\nand it shall be done.'\n\nSo at last her friend told her.\n\n'If the king, your father, would make me his queen I would stay,' she\nsaid; 'but that he would never do.'\n\n'Oh, yes! _that_ is easy enough!' cried the princess, delighted to\nthink that, after all, they need not be parted. And she ran off to\nfind her father, and beg him to marry the lady at once. He had done\neverything she asked, and she was quite certain he would do it.\n\n'What is it, my daughter?' he asked, when he saw her. 'You have been\ncrying--are you not happy?'\n\n'Father,' she said, 'I have come to ask you to marry the\ncountess'--(for that was the lady's real title)--'if you do not she\nwill leave us, and then I shall be as lonely as before. You have never\nrefused me what I have asked before, do not refuse me now.'\n\nThe king turned quite pale when he heard this. He did not like the\ncountess, and so, of course, he did not wish to marry her; besides, he\nstill loved his dead wife.\n\n'No, that I cannot do, my child,' he said at last.\n\nAt these words the princess began to cry once more, and the tears ran\ndown her cheeks so fast, and she sobbed so bitterly, that her father\nfelt quite miserable too. He remembered the promise he had given\nalways to do what his daughter asked him and in the end he gave way,\nand promised to marry the countess. The princess at once was all\nsmiles, and ran away to tell the good news.\n\nSoon after, the wedding was celebrated with great festivities, and the\ncountess became queen; but, in spite of all the joy and merriment that\nfilled the palace, the king looked pale and sad, for he was certain\nthat ill would come of the marriage. Sure enough, in a very short time\nthe queen's manner towards the princess began to change. She was\njealous of her because she, instead of her own daughter, was heir to\nthe throne, and very soon she could no longer hide her thoughts.\nInstead of speaking kindly and lovingly as before, her words became\nrough and cruel, and once or twice she even slapped the princess's\nface.\n\nThe king was very unhappy at seeing his dearly loved daughter suffer,\nand at last she became so wretched that he could no longer bear it.\nCalling her to him one day he said:\n\n'My daughter, you are no longer merry as you should be, and I fear\nthat it is the fault of your step-mother. It will be better for you to\nlive with her no longer; therefore I have built you a castle on the\nisland in the lake, and that is to be your home in future. There you\ncan do just as you like, and your step-mother will never enter it.'\n\nThe princess was delighted to hear this, and still more pleased when\nshe saw the castle, which was full of beautiful things, and had a\ngreat number of windows looking out on the lovely blue water. There\nwas a boat in which she might row herself about, and a garden where\nshe could walk whenever she wished without fear of meeting the unkind\nqueen; and the king promised to visit her every day.\n\nFor a long time she dwelt in peace, and grew more and more beautiful\nevery day. Everyone who saw her said 'The princess is the loveliest\nlady in the land.' And this was told to the queen, who hated her\nstep-daughter still more because her own daughter was ugly and stupid.\n\nOne day it was announced that a great meeting of knights and nobles\nwas to be held in a neighbouring kingdom distant about two days'\njourney. There were to be all kinds of festivities, and a tournament\nwas to be fought and a banquet held, in honour of the coming of age of\nthe prince of the country.\n\nThe princess's father was amongst those invited, but before he set out\nhe went to take leave of his daughter. Although she had such a\nbeautiful home, and was no longer scolded by the queen, the poor\nprincess was dreadfully lonely, and she told her father that it would\nbe better if she were dead. He did his best to comfort her and\npromised that he would soon return. Was there anything he could do to\nhelp her?\n\n'Yes,' she said. 'You may greet the Green Knight from me.'\n\nNow the king wondered a little at these words, for he had never heard\nof the Green Knight; but there was no time to ask questions, therefore\nhe gave the promise, and rode off on his journey. When he came to the\npalace where the festivities were to take place, the first thing he\ndid was to ask:\n\n'Can anyone tell me where I may find the Green Knight?'\n\nNo, they were very sorry; but none had ever heard of such a person\neither--certainly he was not to be found there. At this the king grew\ntroubled, and not even the banquet or the tournament could make him\nfeel happier. He inquired of everyone he saw, 'Do you know the Green\nKnight?' but the only answer he got was:\n\n'No, your majesty, we have never heard of him.'\n\nAt length he began to believe that the princess was mistaken, and that\nthere was no such person; and he started on his homeward journey\nsorrowfully enough, for this was the first time for many months that\nthe princess had asked him to do anything for her and he could not do\nit. He thought so much about it that he did not notice the direction\nhis horse was taking, and presently he found himself in the midst of a\ndense forest where he had never been before. He rode on and on,\nlooking for the path, but as the sun began to set he realised that he\nwas lost. At last, to his delight, he saw a man driving some pigs, and\nriding up to him, he said:\n\n'I have lost my way. Can you tell me where I am?'\n\n'You are in the Green Knight's forest,' answered the man, 'and these\nare his pigs.'\n\nAt that the king's heart grew light. 'Where does the Green Knight\nlive?' he asked.\n\n'It is a very long way from here,' said the swineherd; 'but I will\nshow you the path.' So he went a little farther with the king and put\nhim on the right road, and the king bade him farewell.\n\nPresently he came to a second forest, and there he met another\nswineherd driving pigs.\n\n'Whose beasts are those, my man?' he asked.\n\n'They are the Green Knight's,' said the man.\n\n'And where does he live?' inquired the king.\n\n'Oh, not far from here,' was the reply.\n\nThen the king rode on, and about midday he reached a beautiful castle\nstanding in the midst of the loveliest garden you can possibly\nimagine, where fountains played in marble basins, and peacocks walked\non the smooth lawns. On the edge of a marble basin sat a young and\nhandsome man, who was dressed from head to foot in a suit of green\narmour, and was feeding the goldfish which swam in the clear water.\n\n'This must be the Green Knight,' thought the king; and going up to the\nyoung man he said courteously:\n\n'I have come, sir, to give you my daughter's greeting. But I have\nwandered far, and lost my way in your forest.'\n\nThe knight looked at him for a moment as though puzzled.\n\n'I have never met either you or your daughter,' he said at last; 'but\nyou are very welcome all the same.' And he waved his hand towards the\ncastle. However, the king took no notice, and told him that his\ndaughter had sent a message to the Green Knight, and as he was the\nonly Green Knight in the kingdom this message must be for him.\n\n'You must pass the night with me here,' said the knight; and as the\nsun was already set, the king was thankful to accept the invitation.\nThey sat down in the castle hall to a magnificent banquet, and\nalthough he had travelled much and visited many monarchs in their\npalaces, the king had never fared better than at the table of the\nGreen Knight, whilst his host himself was so clever and agreeable,\nthat he was delighted, and thought 'what a charming son-in-law this\nknight would make!'\n\nNext morning, when he was about to set forth on his journey home, the\nGreen Knight put into his hand a jewelled casket, saying:\n\n'Will your highness graciously condescend to carry this gift to the\nprincess, your daughter? It contains my portrait, that when I come she\nmay know me; for I feel certain that she is the lady I have seen night\nafter night in a dream, and I must win her for my bride.'\n\nThe king gave the knight his blessing, and promised to take the gift\nto his daughter. With that he set off, and ere long reached his own\ncountry.\n\nThe princess was awaiting him anxiously when he arrived, and ran to\nhis arms in her joy at seeing her dear father again.\n\n'And did you see the Green Knight?' she asked.\n\n'Yes,' answered the king, drawing out the casket the knight had sent,\n'and he begged me to give you this that you may know him when he\narrives and not mistake him for somebody else.'\n\nWhen the princess saw the portrait she was delighted, and exclaimed:\n'It is indeed the man whom I have seen in my dreams! Now I shall be\nhappy, for he and no other shall be my husband.'\n\nVery soon after the Green Knight arrived, and he looked so handsome in\nhis green armour, with a long green plume in his helmet, that the\nprincess fell still more in love with him than before, and when he saw\nher, and recognised her as the lady whom he had so often dreamt of, he\nimmediately asked her to be his bride. The princess looked down and\nsmiled as she answered him:\n\n'We must keep the secret from my step-mother until the wedding-day,'\nsaid she, 'for otherwise she will find a way to do us some evil.'\n\n'As you please,' replied the prince; 'but I must visit you daily, for\nI can live no longer without you! I will come early in the morning and\nnot leave until it is dark; thus the queen will not see me row across\nthe lake.'\n\nFor a long time, the Green Knight visited the princess every day, and\nspent many hours wandering with her through the beautiful gardens\nwhere they knew the queen could not see them. But secrets, as you\nknow, are dangerous things, and at last, one morning, a girl who was\nin service at the palace happened to be walking by the lake early in\nthe morning and beheld a wonderfully handsome young man, in a\nbeautiful suit of green satin, come down to the edge of the lake. Not\nguessing that he was watched, he got into a little boat that lay\nmoored to the bank, rowed himself over to the island where the\nprincess's castle stood. The girl went home wondering who the knight\ncould be; and as she was brushing the queen's hair, she said to her:\n\n'Does your majesty know that the princess has a suitor?'\n\n  [Illustration: THE POISONED NAIL]\n\n'Nonsense!' replied the queen crossly. But she was dreadfully vexed at\nthe mere idea, as her own daughter was still unmarried, and was likely\nto remain so, because she was so ill-tempered and stupid that no one\nwanted her.\n\n'It is true,' persisted the girl. 'He is dressed all in green, and is\nvery handsome. I saw him myself, though he did not see me, and he got\ninto a boat and rowed over to the island, and the princess was waiting\nfor him at the castle door.'\n\n'I must find out what this means,' thought the queen. But she bade her\nmaid of honour cease chattering and mind her own business.\n\nEarly next morning the queen got up and went down to the shore of the\nlake, where she hid herself behind a tree. Sure enough there came a\nhandsome knight dressed in green, just as the maid of honour had said,\nand he got into a boat and rowed over to the island where the princess\nawaited him. The angry queen remained by the lake all day, but it was\nnot until the evening that the knight returned, and leaping on shore,\nhe tied the boat to its moorings and went away through the forest.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n'I have caught my step-daughter nicely,' thought the queen. 'But she\nshall not be married before my own sweet girl. I must find a way to\nput a stop to this.'\n\nAccordingly she took a poisoned nail and stuck it in the handle of the\noar in such a way that the knight would be sure to scratch his hand\nwhen he picked up the oar. Then she went home laughing, very much\npleased with her cleverness.\n\nThe next day the Green Knight went to visit the princess as usual; but\ndirectly he took up the oars to row over to the island he felt a sharp\nscratch on his hand.\n\n'Oof!' he said, dropping the oars from pain, 'what can have scratched\nso?' But, look as he might, only a tiny mark was to be seen.\n\n'Well, it's strange how a nail could have come here since yesterday,'\nhe thought. 'Still, it is not very serious, though it hurts a good\ndeal.' And, indeed, it seemed such a little thing that he did not\nmention it to the princess. However, when he reached home in the\nevening, he felt so ill he was obliged to go to bed, with no one to\nattend on him except his old nurse. But of this, of course, the\nprincess knew nothing; and the poor girl, fearing lest some evil\nshould have befallen him, or some other maiden more beautiful than she\nshould have stolen his heart from her, grew almost sick with waiting.\nLonely, indeed, she was, for her father, who would have helped her,\nwas travelling in a foreign country, and she knew not how to obtain\nnews of her lover.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn this manner time passed away, and one day, as she sat by the open\nwindow crying and feeling very sad, a little bird came and perched on\nthe branch of a tree that stood just underneath. It began to sing, and\nso beautifully that the princess was obliged to stop crying and listen\nto it, and very soon she found out that the bird was trying to attract\nher attention.\n\n'_Tu-whit, tu-whit!_ your lover is sick!' it sang.\n\n'Alas!' cried the princess. 'What can I do?'\n\n'_Tu-whit, tu-whit!_ you must go to your father's palace!'\n\n'And what shall I do there?' she asked.\n\n'_Tu-whit!_ there you will find a snake with nine young ones.'\n\n'Ugh!' answered the princess with a shiver, for she did not like\nsnakes. But the little bird paid no heed.\n\n'Put them in a basket and go to the Green Knight's palace,' said she.\n\n'And what am I to do with them when I get there?' she cried, blushing\nall over, though there was no one to see her but the bird.\n\n'Dress yourself as a kitchen-maid and ask for a place. _Tu-whit!_ Then\nyou must make soup out of the snakes. Give it three times to the\nknight and he will be cured. _Tu-whit!_'\n\n'But what has made him ill?' asked the princess. The bird, however,\nhad flown away, and there was nothing for it but to go to her father's\npalace and look for the snakes. When she came there she found the\nmother snake with the nine little snakes all curled up so that you\ncould hardly tell their heads from their tails. The princess did not\nlike having to touch them, but when the old snake had wriggled out of\nthe nest to bask a little in the sun, she picked up the young ones and\nput them in a basket as the bird had told her, and ran off to find the\nGreen Knight's castle. All day she walked along, sometimes stopping to\npick the wild berries, or to gather a nosegay; but though she rested\nnow and then, she would not lie down to sleep before she reached the\ncastle. At last she came in sight of it, and just then she met a girl\ndriving a flock of geese.\n\n'Good-day!' said the princess; 'can you tell me if this is the castle\nof the Green Knight?'\n\n'Yes, that it is,' answered the goose girl, 'for I am driving his\ngeese. But the Green Knight is very ill, and they say that unless he\ncan be cured within three days he will surely die.'\n\nAt this news the princess grew as white as death. The ground seemed to\nspin round, and she closed her hand tight on a bush that was standing\nbeside her. By-and-by, with a great effort, she recovered herself and\nsaid to the goose girl:\n\n'Would you like to have a fine silk dress to wear?'\n\nThe goose girl's eyes glistened.\n\n'Yes, that I would!' answered she.\n\n'Then take off your dress and give it to me, and I will give you\nmine,' said the princess.\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCESS CHANGES CLOTHES WITH THE GOOSE-GIRL]\n\nThe girl could scarcely believe her ears, but the princess was\nalready unfastening her beautiful silk dress, and taking off her silk\nstockings and pretty red shoes; and the goose girl lost no time in\nslipping out of her rough linen skirt and tunic. Then the princess put\non the other's rags and let down her hair, and went to the kitchen to\nask for a place.\n\n'Do you want a kitchen-maid?' she said.\n\n'Yes, we do,' answered the cook, who was too busy to ask the new-comer\nmany questions.\n\nThe following day, after a good night's rest, the princess set about\nher new duties. The other servants were speaking of their master, and\nsaying to each other how ill he was, and that unless he could be cured\nwithin three days he would surely die.\n\nThe princess thought of the snakes, and the bird's advice, and lifting\nher head from the pots and pans she was scouring, she said: 'I know\nhow to make a soup that has such a wonderful power that whoever tastes\nit is sure to be cured, whatever his illness may be. As the doctors\ncannot cure your master shall I try?'\n\nAt first they all laughed at her.\n\n'What! a scullion cure the knight when the best physicians in the\nkingdom have failed?'\n\nBut at last, just because all the physicians _had_ failed, they\ndecided that it would do no harm to try; and she ran off joyfully to\nfetch her basket of snakes and make them into broth. When this was\nready she carried some to the knight's room and entered it boldly,\npushing aside all the learned doctors who stood beside his bed. The\npoor knight was too ill to know her, besides, she was so ragged and\ndirty that he would not have been likely to do so had he been well;\nbut when he had taken the soup he was so much better that he was able\nto sit up.\n\nThe next day he had some more, and then he was able to dress himself.\n\n'That is certainly wonderful soup!' said the cook.\n\nThe third day, after he had eaten his soup, the knight was quite well\nagain.\n\n'Who are you?' he asked the girl; 'was it you who made this soup that\nhas cured me?'\n\n'Yes,' answered the princess.\n\n'Choose, then, whatever you wish as a reward,' said the knight, 'and\nyou shall have it.'\n\n'I would be your bride!' said the princess.\n\nThe knight frowned in surprise at such boldness, and shook his head.\n\n'That is the one thing I cannot grant,' he said, 'for I am pledged to\nmarry the most beautiful princess in the world. Choose again.'\n\nThen the princess ran away and washed herself and mended her rags, and\nwhen she returned the Green Knight recognised her at once.\n\nYou can think what a joyful meeting that was!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSoon after, they were married with great splendour. All the knights\nand princes in the kingdom were summoned to the wedding, and the\nprincess wore a dress that shone like the sun, so that no one had ever\nbeheld a more gorgeous sight. The princess's father, of course, was\npresent, but the wicked queen and her daughter were driven out of the\ncountry, and as nobody has seen them since, very likely they were\neaten by wild beasts in the forest. But the bride and bridegroom were\nso happy that they forgot all about them, and they lived with the old\nking till he died, when they succeeded him.\n\n(From \"_Eventyr fra Jylland_,\" _samlede og optegnede af Evald Tang\nKristensen_. Translated from the Danish by Mrs. Skovgaard-Pedersen.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE FIVE WISE WORDS OF THE GURU_[4]\n\n\nOnce there lived a handsome young man named Ram Singh, who, though a\nfavourite with everyone, was unhappy because he had a scold for a\nstep-mother. All day long she went on talking, until the youth was\ndriven so distracted that he determined to go away somewhere and seek\nhis fortune. No sooner had he decided to leave his home than he made\nhis plans, and the very next morning he started off with a few clothes\nin a wallet, and a little money in his pocket.\n\nBut there was one person in the village to whom he wished to say\ngood-bye, and that was a wise old guru, or teacher, who had taught him\nmuch. So he turned his face first of all towards his master's hut, and\nbefore the sun was well up was knocking at his door. The old man\nreceived his pupil affectionately; but he was wise in reading faces,\nand saw at once that the youth was in trouble.\n\n'My son,' said he, 'what is the matter?'\n\n'Nothing, father,' replied the young man, 'but I have determined to go\ninto the world and seek my fortune.'\n\n'Be advised,' returned the guru, 'and remain in your father's house;\nit is better to have half a loaf at home than to seek a whole one in\ndistant countries.'\n\nBut Ram Singh was in no mood to heed such advice, and very soon the\nold man ceased to press him.\n\n'Well,' said he at last, 'if your mind is made up I suppose you must\nhave your way. But listen carefully, and remember five parting\ncounsels which I will give you; and if you keep these no evil shall\nbefall you. First--always obey without question the orders of him\nwhose service you enter; second--never speak harshly or unkindly to\nanyone; third--never lie; fourth--never try to appear the equal of\nthose above you in station; and fifth--wherever you go, if you meet\nthose who read or teach from the holy books, stay and listen, if but\nfor a few minutes, that you may be strengthened in the path of duty.'\n\nThen Ram Singh started out upon his journey, promising to bear in mind\nthe old man's words.\n\nAfter some days he came to a great city. He had spent all the money\nwhich he had at starting, and therefore resolved to look for work\nhowever humble it might be. Catching sight of a prosperous-looking\nmerchant standing in front of a shop full of grain of all kinds, Ram\nSingh went up to him and asked whether he could give him anything to\ndo. The merchant gazed at him so long that the young man began to lose\nheart, but at length he answered:\n\n'Yes, of course; there is a place waiting for you.'\n\n'What do you mean?' asked Ram Singh.\n\n'Why,' replied the other, 'yesterday our rajah's chief wazir dismissed\nhis body servant and is wanting another. Now you are just the sort of\nperson that he needs, for you are young and tall, and handsome; I\nadvise you to apply there.'\n\nThanking the merchant for this advice, the young man set out at once\nfor the wazir's house, and soon managed, thanks to his good looks and\nappearance, to be engaged as the great man's servant.\n\nOne day, soon after this, the rajah of the place started on a journey\nand the chief wazir accompanied him. With them was an army of servants\nand attendants, soldiers, muleteers, camel-drivers, merchants with\ngrain and stores for man and beast, singers to make entertainment by\nthe way and musicians to accompany them, besides elephants, camels,\nhorses, mules, ponies, donkeys, goats, and carts and wagons of every\nkind and description, so that it seemed more like a large town on the\nmarch than anything else.\n\nThus they travelled for several days, till they entered a country that\nwas like a sea of sand, where the swirling dust floated in clouds, and\nmen and beasts were half choked by it. Towards the close of that day\nthey came to a village, and when the headmen hurried out to salute the\nrajah and to pay him their respects, they began, with very long and\nserious faces, to explain that, whilst they and all that they had were\nof course at the disposal of the rajah, the coming of so large a\ncompany had nevertheless put them into a dreadful difficulty because\nthey had never a well nor spring of water in their country; and they\nhad no water to give drink to such an army of men and beasts!\n\nGreat fear fell upon the host at the words of the headmen, but the\nrajah merely told the wazir that he must get water somehow, and that\nsettled the matter so far as _he_ was concerned. The wazir sent off in\nhaste for all the oldest men in the place, and began to question them\nas to whether there were no wells near by.\n\nThey all looked helplessly at each other, and said nothing; but at\nlength one old grey-beard replied:\n\n'Truly, Sir Wazir, there is, within a mile or two of this village, a\nwell which some former king made hundreds of years ago. It is, they\nsay, great and inexhaustible, covered in by heavy stone-work and with\na flight of steps leading down to the water in the very bowels of the\nearth; but no man ever goes near it because it is haunted by evil\nspirits, and it is known that whoso disappears down the well shall\nnever be seen again.'\n\nThe wazir stroked his beard and considered a moment. Then he turned to\nRam Singh who stood behind his chair.\n\n'There is a proverb,' said he, 'that no man can be trusted until he\nhas been tried. Go you and get the rajah and his people water from\nthis well.'\n\nThen there flashed into Ram Singh's mind the first counsel of the old\nguru--'_Always obey without question the orders of him whose service\nyou enter._' So he replied at once that he was ready, and left to\nprepare for his adventure. Two great brazen vessels he fastened to a\nmule, two lesser ones he bound upon his shoulders, and thus provided\nhe set out, with the old villager for his guide. In a short time they\ncame to a spot where some big trees towered above the barren country,\nwhilst under their shadow lay the dome of an ancient building. This\nthe guide pointed out as the well, but excused himself from going\nfurther as he was an old man and tired, and it was already nearly\nsunset, so that he must be returning home. So Ram Singh bade him\nfarewell, and went on alone with the mule.\n\n  [Illustration: 'WHAT THINK YOU, O MORTAL, OF MY FAIR AND LOVELY\n      WIFE?']\n\nArrived at the trees, Ram Singh tied up his beast, lifted the vessels\nfrom his shoulder, and having found the opening of the well, descended\nby a flight of steps which led down into the darkness. The steps were\nbroad white slabs of alabaster which gleamed in the shadows as he went\nlower and lower. All was very silent. Even the sound of his bare feet\nupon the pavements seemed to wake an echo in that lonely place, and\nwhen one of the vessels which he carried slipped and fell upon the\nsteps it clanged so loudly that he jumped at the noise. Still he went\non, until at last he reached a wide pool of sweet water, and there he\nwashed his jars with care before he filled them, and began to remount\nthe steps with the lighter vessels, as the big ones were so heavy he\ncould only take up one at a time. Suddenly, something moved above him,\nand looking up he saw a great giant standing on the stairway! In one\nhand he held clasped to his heart a dreadful looking mass of bones, in\nthe other was a lamp which cast long shadows about the walls, and\nmade him seem even more terrible than he really was.\n\n'What think you, O mortal,' said the giant, 'of my fair and lovely\nwife?' And he held the light towards the bones in his arms and looked\nlovingly at them.\n\nNow I must tell you that this poor giant had had a very beautiful\nwife, whom he had loved dearly; but, when she died, her husband\nrefused to believe in her death, and always carried her about long\nafter she had become nothing but bones. Ram Singh of course did not\nknow of this, but there came to his mind the second wise saying of the\nguru, which forbade him to speak harshly or inconsiderately to others;\nso he replied:\n\n'Truly, sir, I am sure you could find nowhere such another.'\n\n'Ah, what eyes you have!' cried the delighted giant, 'you at least can\nsee! I do not know how often I have slain those who insulted her by\nsaying she was but dried bones! You are a fine young man, and I will\nhelp you.'\n\nSo saying, he laid down the bones with great tenderness, and snatching\nup the huge brass vessels, carried them up again, and replaced them\nwith such ease that it was all done by the time that Ram Singh had\nreached the open air with the smaller ones.\n\n'Now,' said the giant, 'you have pleased me, and you may ask of me one\nfavour, and whatever you wish I will do it for you. Perhaps you would\nlike me to show you where lies buried the treasure of dead kings?' he\nadded eagerly.\n\nBut Ram Singh shook his head at the mention of buried wealth.\n\n'The favour that I would ask,' said he, 'is that you will leave off\nhaunting this well, so that men may go in and out and obtain water.'\n\nPerhaps the giant expected some favour more difficult to grant, for\nhis face brightened, and he promised to depart at once; and as Ram\nSingh went off through the gathering darkness with his precious\nburden of water, he beheld the giant striding away with the bones of\nhis dead wife in his arms.\n\nGreat was the wonder and rejoicing in the camp when Ram Singh returned\nwith the water. He never said anything, however, about his adventure\nwith the giant, but merely told the rajah that there was nothing to\nprevent the well being used; and used it was, and nobody ever saw any\nmore of the giant.\n\nThe rajah was so pleased with the bearing of Ram Singh that he ordered\nthe wazir to give the young man to him in exchange for one of his own\nservants. So Ram Singh became the rajah's attendant; and as the days\nwent by the king became more and more delighted with the youth\nbecause, mindful of the old guru's third counsel, he was always honest\nand spoke the truth. He grew in favour rapidly, until at last the\nrajah made him his treasurer, and thus he reached a high place in the\ncourt and had wealth and power in his hands. Unluckily the rajah had a\nbrother who was a very bad man; and this brother thought that if he\ncould win the young treasurer over to himself he might by this means\nmanage to steal little by little any of the king's treasure which he\nneeded. Then, with plenty of money, he could bribe the soldiers and\nsome of the rajah's counsellors, head a rebellion, dethrone and kill\nhis brother, and reign himself instead. He was too wary, of course, to\ntell Ram Singh of all these wicked plans; but he began by flattering\nhim whenever he saw him, and at last offered him his daughter in\nmarriage. But Ram Singh remembered the fourth counsel of the old\nguru--never to try to appear the equal of those above him in\nstation--therefore he respectfully declined the great honour of\nmarrying a princess. Of course the prince, baffled at the very\nbeginning of his enterprise, was furious, and determined to work Ram\nSingh's ruin, and entering the rajah's presence he told him a story\nabout Ram Singh having spoken insulting words of his sovereign and of\nhis daughter. What it was all about nobody knew, and, as it was not\ntrue, the wicked prince did not know either; but the rajah grew very\nangry and red in the face as he listened, and declared that until the\ntreasurer's head was cut off neither he nor the princess nor his\nbrother would eat or drink.\n\n'But,' added he, 'I do not wish any one to know that this was done by\nmy desire, and anyone who mentions the subject will be severely\npunished.' And with this the prince was forced to be content.\n\nThen the rajah sent for an officer of his guard, and told him to take\nsome soldiers and ride at once to a tower which was situated just\noutside the town, and if anyone should come to inquire when the\nbuilding was going to be finished, or should ask any other questions\nabout it, the officer must chop his head off, and bring it to him. As\nfor the body, that could be buried on the spot. The old officer\nthought these instructions rather odd, but it was no business of his,\nso he saluted, and went off to do his master's bidding.\n\nEarly in the morning the rajah, who had not slept all night, sent for\nRam Singh, and bade him go to the new hunting-tower, and ask the\npeople there how it was getting on and when it was going to be\nfinished, and to hurry back with the answer! Away went Ram Singh upon\nhis errand, but, on the road, as he was passing a little temple on the\noutskirts of the city, he heard someone inside reading aloud; and,\nremembering the guru's fifth counsel, he just stepped inside and sat\ndown to listen for a minute. He did not mean to stay longer, but\nbecame so deeply interested in the wisdom of the teacher, that he sat,\nand sat, and sat, while the sun rose higher and higher.\n\nIn the meantime, the wicked prince, who dared not disobey the rajah's\ncommand, was feeling very hungry; and as for the princess, she was\nquietly crying in a corner waiting for the news of Ram Singh's death,\nso that she might eat her breakfast.\n\nHours passed, and stare as he might from the window no messenger could\nbe seen.\n\nAt last the prince could bear it no longer, and hastily disguising\nhimself so that no one should recognise him, he jumped on a horse and\ngalloped out to the hunting-tower, where the rajah had told him that\nthe execution was to take place. But, when he got there, there was no\nexecution going on. There were only some men engaged in building, and\na number of soldiers idly watching them. He forgot that he had\ndisguised himself and that no one would know him, so, riding up, he\ncried out:\n\n'Now then, you men, why are you idling about here instead of finishing\nwhat you came to do? When is it to be done?'\n\nAt his words the soldiers looked at the commanding officer, who was\nstanding a little apart from the rest. Unperceived by the prince he\nmade a slight sign, a sword flashed in the sun, and off flew a head on\nthe ground beneath!\n\nAs part of the prince's disguise had been a thick beard, the men did\nnot recognise the dead man as the rajah's brother; but they wrapped\nthe head in a cloth, and buried the body as their commander bade them.\nWhen this was ended, the officer took the cloth, and rode off in the\ndirection of the palace.\n\nMeanwhile the rajah came home from his council, and to his great\nsurprise found neither head nor brother awaiting him; as time passed\non, he became uneasy, and thought that he had better go himself and\nsee what the matter was. So ordering his horse he rode off alone.\n\nIt happened that, just as the rajah came near to the temple where Ram\nSingh still sat, the young treasurer, hearing the sound of a horse's\nhoofs, looked over his shoulder and saw that the rider was the rajah\nhimself! Feeling much ashamed of himself for having forgotten his\nerrand, he jumped up and hurried out to meet his master, who reined up\nhis horse, and seemed very surprised (as indeed he was) to see _him_.\nAt that moment there arrived the officer of the guard carrying his\nparcel. He saluted the rajah gravely, and, dismounting, laid the\nbundle in the road and began to undo the wrappings, whilst the rajah\nwatched him with wonder and interest. When the last string was undone,\nand the head of his brother was displayed to his view, the rajah\nsprang from his horse and caught the soldier by the arm. As soon as he\ncould speak he questioned the man as to what had occurred, and little\nby little a dark suspicion darted through him. Then, briefly telling\nthe soldier that he had done well, the rajah drew Ram Singh to one\nside, and in a few minutes learned from him how, in attending to the\nguru's counsel, he had delayed to do the king's message.\n\nIn the end the rajah found from some papers the proofs of his dead\nbrother's treachery; and Ram Singh established his innocence and\nintegrity. He continued to serve the rajah for many years with\nunswerving fidelity; and married a maiden of his own rank in life,\nwith whom he lived happily; dying at last honoured and loved by all\nmen. Sons were born to him; and, in time, to them also he taught the\nfive wise sayings of the old guru.\n\n(A Punjabi story.)\n\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[4] A Hindu religious teacher or saint; in this case a Sikh.\n\n\n\n\n_THE GOLDEN-HEADED FISH_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in Egypt a king who lost his sight from a\nbad illness. Of course he was very unhappy, and became more so as\nmonths passed, and all the best doctors in the land were unable to\ncure him. The poor man grew so thin from misery that everyone thought\nhe was going to die, and the prince, his only son, thought so too.\n\nGreat was therefore the rejoicing through Egypt when a traveller\narrived in a boat down the river Nile, and after questioning the\npeople as to the reason of their downcast looks, declared that he was\ncourt physician to the king of a far country, and would, if allowed,\nexamine the eyes of the blind man. He was at once admitted into the\nroyal presence, and after a few minutes of careful study announced\nthat the case, though very serious, was not quite hopeless.\n\n'Somewhere in the Great Sea,' he said, 'there exists a Golden-headed\nFish. If you can manage to catch this creature, bring it to me, and I\nwill prepare an ointment from its blood which will restore your sight.\nFor a hundred days I will wait here, but if at the end of that time\nthe fish should still be uncaught I must return to my own master.'\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCE HAS PITY ON THE GOLD-HEADED FISH]\n\nThe next morning the young prince set forth in quest of the fish,\ntaking with him a hundred men, each man carrying a net. Quite a little\nfleet of boats was awaiting them and in these they sailed to the\nmiddle of the Great Sea. During three months they laboured diligently\nfrom sunrise to sunset, but though they caught large multitudes of\nfishes, not one of them had a golden head.\n\n'It is quite useless now,' said the prince on the very last night.\n'Even if we find it this evening, the hundred days will be over in an\nhour, and long before we could reach the Egyptian capital the doctor\nwill be on his way home. Still, I will go out again, and cast the net\nonce more myself.' And so he did, and at the very moment that the\nhundred days were up, he drew in the net with the Golden-headed Fish\nentangled in its meshes.\n\n'Success has come, but, as happens often, it is too late,' murmured\nthe young man, who had studied in the schools of philosophy; 'but, all\nthe same, put the fish in that vessel full of water, and we will take\nit back to show my father that we have done what we could.' But when\nhe drew near the fish it looked up at him with such piteous eyes that\nhe could not make up his mind to condemn it to death. For he knew well\nthat, though the doctors of his own country were ignorant of the\nsecret of the ointment, they would do all in their power to extract\nsomething from the fish's blood. So he picked up the prize of so much\nlabour, and threw it back into the sea, and then began his journey\nback to the palace. When at last he reached it he found the king in a\nhigh fever, caused by his disappointment, and he refused to believe\nthe story told him by his son.\n\n'Your head shall pay for it! Your head shall pay for it!' cried he;\nand bade the courtiers instantly summon the executioner to the palace.\n\nBut of course somebody ran at once to the queen, and told her of the\nking's order, and she put common clothes on the prince, and filled his\npockets with gold, and hurried him on board a ship which was sailing\nthat night for a distant island.\n\n'Your father will repent some day, and then he will be thankful to\nknow you are alive,' said she. 'But one last counsel will I give you,\nand that is, take no man into your service who desires to be paid\nevery month.'\n\nThe young prince thought this advice rather odd. If the servant had to\nbe paid anyhow, he did not understand what difference it could make\nwhether it was by the year or by the month. However, he had many times\nproved that his mother was wiser than he, so he promised obedience.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter a voyage of several weeks, he arrived at the island of which his\nmother had spoken. It was full of hills and woods and flowers, and\nbeautiful white houses stood everywhere in gardens.\n\n'What a charming spot to live in,' thought the prince. And he lost no\ntime in buying one of the prettiest of the dwellings.\n\nThen servants came pressing to offer their services; but as they all\ndeclared that they must have payment at the end of every month, the\nyoung man, who remembered his mother's words, declined to have\nanything to say to them. At length, one morning, an Arab appeared and\nbegged that the prince would engage him.\n\n'And what wages do you ask?' inquired the prince, when he had\nquestioned the new-comer and found him suitable.\n\n'I do not want money,' answered the Arab; 'at the end of a year you\ncan see what my services are worth to you, and can pay me in any way\nyou like.' And the young man was pleased, and took the Arab for his\nservant.\n\nNow, although no one would have guessed it from the look of the side\nof the island where the prince had landed, the other part was a\ncomplete desert, owing to the ravages of a horrible monster which came\nup from the sea, and devoured all the corn and cattle. The governor\nhad sent bands of soldiers to lie in wait for the creature in order to\nkill it; but, somehow, no one ever happened to be awake at the moment\nthat the ravages were committed. It was in vain that the sleepy\nsoldiers were always punished severely--the same thing invariably\noccurred next time; and at last heralds were sent throughout the\nisland to offer a great reward to the man who could slay the monster.\n\nAs soon as the Arab heard the news, he went straight to the governor's\npalace.\n\n'If my master can succeed in killing the monster, what reward will you\ngive him?' asked he.\n\n'My daughter and anything besides that he chooses,' answered the\ngovernor. But the Arab shook his head.\n\n'Give him your daughter and keep your wealth,' said he; 'but,\nhenceforward, let her share in your gains, whatever they are.'\n\n'It is well,' replied the governor; and ordered a deed to be prepared,\nwhich was signed by both of them.\n\nThat night the Arab stole down to the shore to watch, but, before he\nset out, he rubbed himself all over with some oil which made his skin\nsmart so badly that there was no chance of _his_ going to sleep as the\nsoldiers had done. Then he hid himself behind a large rock and waited.\nBy-and-by a swell seemed to rise on the water, and, a few minutes\nlater, a hideous monster--part bird, part beast, and part\nserpent--stepped noiselessly on to the rocks. It walked stealthily up\ntowards the fields, but the Arab was ready for it, and, as it passed,\nplunged his dagger into the soft part behind the ear. The creature\nstaggered and gave a loud cry, and then rolled over dead, with its\nfeet in the sea.\n\nThe Arab watched for a little while, in order to make sure that there\nwas no life left in his enemy, but as the huge body remained quite\nstill, he quitted his hiding-place, and cut off the ears of his foe.\nThese he carried to his master, bidding him show them to the governor,\nand declare that he himself, and no other, had killed the monster.\n\n'But it was you, and not I, who slew him,' objected the prince.\n\n'Never mind; do as I bid you. I have a reason for it,' answered the\nArab. And though the young man did not like taking credit for what he\nhad never done, at length he gave in.\n\nThe governor was so delighted at the news that he begged the prince to\ntake his daughter to wife that very day; but the prince refused,\nsaying that all he desired was a ship which would carry him to see the\nworld. Of course this was granted him at once, and when he and his\nfaithful Arab embarked they found, heaped up in the vessel, stores of\ndiamonds and precious stones, which the grateful governor had secretly\nplaced there.\n\nSo they sailed, and they sailed, and they sailed; and at length they\nreached the shores of a great kingdom. Leaving the prince on board,\nthe Arab went into the town to find out what sort of a place it was.\nAfter some hours he returned, saying that he heard that the king's\ndaughter was the most beautiful princess in the world, and that the\nprince would do well to ask for her hand.\n\nNothing loth, the prince listened to this advice, and taking some of\nthe finest necklaces in his hand, he mounted a splendid horse which\nthe Arab had bought for him, and rode up to the palace, closely\nfollowed by his faithful attendant.\n\nThe strange king happened to be in a good humour, and they were\nreadily admitted to his presence. Laying down his offerings on the\nsteps of the throne, he prayed the king to grant him his daughter in\nmarriage.\n\nThe monarch listened to him in silence; but answered, after a pause:\n\n'Young man, I will give you my daughter to wife, if that is your wish;\nbut first I must tell you that she has already gone through the\nmarriage ceremony with a hundred and ninety young men, and not one of\nthem lived for twelve hours after. So think, while there is yet\ntime.'\n\nThe prince _did_ think, and was so frightened that he very nearly went\nback to his ship without any more words. But just as he was about to\nwithdraw his proposal the Arab whispered:\n\n'Fear nothing, but take her.'\n\n'The luck must change some time,' he said, at last; 'and who would not\nrisk his head for the hand of such a peerless princess?'\n\n'As you will,' replied the king. 'Then I will give orders that the\nmarriage shall be celebrated to-night.'\n\nAnd so it was done; and after the ceremony the bride and bridegroom\nretired to their own apartments to sup by themselves, for such was the\ncustom of the country. The moon shone bright, and the prince walked to\nthe window to look out upon the river and upon the distant hills, when\nhis gaze suddenly fell on a silken shroud neatly laid out on a couch,\nwith his name embroidered in gold thread across the front; for this\nalso was the pleasure of the king.\n\nHorrified at the spectacle, he turned his head away, and this time his\nglance rested on a group of men, digging busily beneath the window. It\nwas a strange hour for any one to be at work, and what was the hole\nfor? It was a curious shape, so long and narrow, almost like---- Ah!\nyes, that was what it was! It was _his_ grave that they were digging!\n\nThe shock of the discovery rendered him speechless, yet he stood\nfascinated and unable to move. At this moment a small black snake\ndarted from the mouth of the princess, who was seated at the table,\nand wriggled quickly towards him. But the Arab was watching for\nsomething of the sort to happen, and seizing the serpent with some\npincers that he held in one hand, he cut off its head with a sharp\ndagger.\n\nThe king could hardly believe his eyes when, early the next morning,\nhis new son-in-law craved an audience of his Majesty.\n\n'What, you?' he cried, as the young man entered.\n\n'Yes, I. Why not?' asked the bridegroom, who thought it best to\npretend not to know anything that had occurred. 'You remember, I told\nyou that the luck must turn at last, and so it has. But I came to ask\nwhether you would be so kind as to bid the gardeners fill up a great\nhole right underneath my window, which spoils the view.'\n\n'Oh! certainly, yes; of course it shall be done!' stammered the king.\n'Is there anything else?'\n\n'No, nothing, thank you,' replied the prince, as he bowed and\nwithdrew.\n\nNow, from the moment that the Arab cut off the snake's head, the\nspell, or whatever it was, seemed to have been taken off the princess,\nand she lived very happily with her husband. The days passed swiftly\nin hunting in the forests, or sailing on the broad river that flowed\npast the palace, and when night fell she would sing to her harp, or\nthe prince would tell her tales of his own country.\n\nOne evening a man in a strange garb, with a face burnt brown by the\nsun, arrived at court. He asked to see the bridegroom, and falling on\nhis face announced that he was a messenger sent by the queen of Egypt,\nproclaiming him king in succession to his father, who was dead.\n\n'Her Majesty begs you will set out without delay, and your bride also,\nas the affairs of the kingdom are somewhat in disorder,' ended the\nmessenger.\n\nThen the young man hastened to seek an audience of his father-in-law,\nwho was delighted to find that his daughter's husband was not merely\nthe governor of a province, as he had supposed, but the king of a\npowerful country. He at once ordered a splendid ship to be made ready,\nand in a week's time rode down to the harbour, to bid farewell to the\nyoung couple.\n\nIn spite of her grief for the dead king, the queen was overjoyed to\nwelcome her son home, and commanded the palace to be hung with\nsplendid stuffs to do honour to the bride. The people expected great\nthings from their new sovereign, for they had suffered much from the\nharsh rule of the old one, and crowds presented themselves every\nmorning with petitions in their hands, which they hoped to persuade\nthe king to grant. Truly, he had enough to keep him busy; but he was\nvery happy for all that, till, one night, the Arab came to him, and\nbegged permission to return to his own land.\n\nFilled with dismay the young man said: 'Leave me! Do you really wish\nto leave me?' Sadly the Arab bowed his head.\n\n'No, my master; never could I wish to leave you! But I have received a\nsummons, and I dare not disobey it.'\n\nThe king was silent, trying to choke down the grief he felt at the\nthought of losing his faithful servant.\n\n'Well, I must not try to keep you,' he faltered out at last. 'That\nwould be a poor return for all that you have done for me! Everything I\nhave is yours; take what you will, for without you I should long ago\nhave been dead!'\n\n'And without _you_, _I_ should long ago have been dead,' answered the\nArab. '_I_ am the Golden-headed Fish.'\n\n(Adapted from _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler, Paris. Ernest\nLeroux, Editeur.)\n\n\n\n\n_DORANI_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in a city of Hindustan a seller of scents\nand essences, who had a very beautiful daughter named Dorani. This\nmaiden had a friend who was a fairy, and the two were high in favour\nwith Indra, the king of fairyland, because they were able to sing so\nsweetly and dance so deftly that no one in the kingdom could equal\nthem for grace and beauty. Dorani had the most lovely hair in the\nworld, for it was like spun gold, and the smell of it was like the\nsmell of fresh roses. But her locks were so long and thick that the\nweight of it was often unbearable, and one day she cut off a shining\ntress, and wrapping it in a large leaf, threw it in the river which\nran just below her window. Now it happened that the king's son was out\nhunting, and had gone down to the river to drink, when there floated\ntowards him a folded leaf, from which came a perfume of roses. The\nprince, with idle curiosity, took a step into the water and caught the\nleaf as it was sailing by. He opened it, and within he found a lock of\nhair like spun gold, and from which came a faint, exquisite odour.\n\nWhen the prince reached home that day he looked so sad and was so\nquiet that his father wondered if any ill had befallen him, and asked\nwhat was the matter. Then the youth took from his breast the tress of\nhair which he had found in the river, and holding it up to the light,\nreplied:\n\n'See, my father, was ever hair like this? Unless I may win and marry\nthe maiden that owns that lock I must die!'\n\n  [Illustration: 'HE NEVER COULD PERSUADE HER TO SAY A SINGLE WORD']\n\nSo the king immediately sent heralds throughout all his dominions to\nsearch for the damsel with hair like spun gold; and at last he learned\nthat she was the daughter of the scent-seller. The object of the\nherald's mission was quickly noised abroad, and Dorani heard of it\nwith the rest; and, one day, she said to her father:\n\n'If the hair is mine, and the king requires me to marry his son, I\nmust do so; but, remember, you must tell him that if, after the\nwedding, I stay all day at the palace, every night will be spent in my\nold home.'\n\nThe old man listened to her with amazement, but answered nothing, as\nhe knew she was wiser than he. Of course the hair was Dorani's, and\nheralds soon returned and informed the king, their master, who\nsummoned the scent-seller, and told him that he wished for his\ndaughter to be given in marriage to the prince. The father bowed his\nhead three times to the ground, and replied:\n\n'Your highness is our lord, and all that you bid us we will do. The\nmaiden asks this only--that if, after the wedding, she stays all day\nat the palace, she may go back each night to her father's house.'\n\nThe king thought this a very strange request; but said to himself it\nwas, after all, his son's affair, and the girl would surely soon get\ntired of going to and fro. So he made no difficulty, and everything\nwas speedily arranged and the wedding was celebrated with great\nrejoicings.\n\nAt first, the condition attaching to his wedding with the lovely\nDorani troubled the prince very little, for he thought that he would\nat least see his bride all day. But, to his dismay, he found that she\nwould do nothing but sit the whole time upon a stool with her head\nbowed forward upon her knees, and he could never persuade her to say a\nsingle word. Each evening she was carried in a palanquin to her\nfather's house, and each morning she was brought back soon after\ndaybreak; and yet never a sound passed her lips, nor did she show by\nany sign that she saw, or heard, or heeded her husband.\n\nOne evening the prince, very unhappy and troubled, was wandering in an\nold and beautiful garden near the palace. The gardener was a very aged\nman, who had served the prince's great grandfather; and when he saw\nthe prince he came and bowed himself to him, and said:\n\n'Child! child! why do you look so sad--is aught the matter?' Then the\nprince replied, 'I am sad, old friend, because I have married a wife\nas lovely as the stars, but she will not speak to me, and I know not\nwhat to do. Night after night she leaves me for her father's house,\nand day after day she sits in mine as though turned to stone, and\nutters no word, whatever I may do or say.'\n\nThe old man stood thinking for a moment, and then he hobbled off to\nhis own cottage. A little later he came back to the prince with five\nor six small packets, which he placed in his hands and said:\n\n'To-morrow, when your bride leaves the palace, sprinkle the powder\nfrom one of these packets upon your body, and while seeing clearly,\nyou will become yourself invisible. More I cannot do for you, but may\nall go well!'\n\nAnd the prince thanked him, and put the packets carefully away in his\nturban.\n\nThe next night, when Dorani left for her father's house in her\npalanquin, the prince took out a packet of the magic powder and\nsprinkled it over himself, and then hurried after her. He soon found\nthat, as the old man had promised, he was invisible to everyone,\nalthough he felt as usual, and could see all that passed. He speedily\novertook the palanquin and walked beside it to the scent-seller's\ndwelling. There it was set down, and, when his bride, closely veiled,\nleft it and entered the house, he, too, entered unperceived.\n\nAt the first door Dorani removed one veil; then she entered another\ndoorway at the end of a passage where she removed another veil; next\nshe mounted the stairs, and at the door of the women's quarters\nremoved a third veil. After this she proceeded to her own room where\nwere set two large basins, one of attar of roses and one of water; in\nthese she washed herself, and afterwards called for food. A servant\nbrought her a bowl of curds, which she ate hastily, and then arrayed\nherself in a robe of silver, and wound about her strings of pearls,\nwhile a wreath of roses crowned her hair. When fully dressed, she\nseated herself upon a four-legged stool over which was a canopy with\nsilken curtains, these she drew around her, and then called out:\n\n'Fly, stool, to the palace of rajah Indra.'\n\nInstantly the stool rose in the air, and the invisible prince, who had\nwatched all these proceedings with great wonder, seized it by one leg\nas it flew away, and found himself being borne through the air at a\nrapid rate.\n\nIn a short while they arrived at the house of the fairy who, as I told\nyou before, was the favourite friend of Dorani. The fairy stood\nwaiting on the threshold, as beautifully dressed as Dorani herself\nwas, and when the stool stopped at her door she cried in astonishment:\n\n'Why, the stool is flying all crooked to-day! What is the reason of\nthat, I wonder? I suspect that you have been talking to your husband,\nand so it will not fly straight.'\n\nBut Dorani declared that she had not spoken one word to him, and she\ncouldn't think why the stool flew as if weighed down at one side. The\nfairy still looked doubtful, but made no answer, and took her seat\nbeside Dorani, the prince again holding tightly one leg. Then the\nstool flew on through the air until it came to the palace of Indra the\nrajah.\n\nAll through the night the women sang and danced before the rajah\nIndra, whilst a magic lute played of itself the most bewitching music;\ntill the prince, who sat watching it all, was quite entranced. Just\nbefore dawn the rajah gave the signal to cease; and again the two\nwomen seated themselves on the stool, and, with the prince clinging to\nthe leg, it flew back to earth, and bore Dorani and her husband safely\nto the scent-seller's shop. Here the prince hurried away by himself\npast Dorani's palanquin with its sleepy bearers, straight on to the\npalace; and, as he passed the threshold of his own rooms he became\nvisible again. Then he lay down upon a couch and waited for Dorani's\narrival.\n\n  [Illustration: THE INVISIBLE PRINCE GOES WITH THE LADIES]\n\nAs soon as she arrived she took a seat and remained as silent as\nusual, with her head bowed on her knees. For a while not a sound was\nheard, but presently the prince said:\n\n'I dreamed a curious dream last night, and as it was all about you I\nam going to tell it you, although you heed nothing.'\n\nThe girl, indeed, took no notice of his words, but in spite of that he\nproceeded to relate every single thing that had happened the evening\nbefore, leaving out no detail of all that he had seen or heard. And\nwhen he praised her singing--and his voice shook a little--Dorani just\nlooked at him; but she said naught, though, in her own mind, she was\nfilled with wonder. 'What a dream!' she thought. 'Could it have been a\ndream? How could he have learnt in a dream all she had done or said?'\nStill she kept silent; only she looked that once at the prince, and\nthen remained all day as before, with her head bowed upon her knees.\n\nWhen night came the prince again made himself invisible and followed\nher. The same things happened again as had happened before, but Dorani\nsang better than ever. In the morning the prince a second time told\nDorani all that she had done, pretending that he had dreamt of it.\nDirectly he had finished Dorani gazed at him, and said:\n\n'Is it true that you dreamt this, or were you really there?'\n\n'I was there,' answered the prince.\n\n'But why do you follow me?' asked the girl.\n\n'Because,' replied the prince, 'I love you, and to be with you is\nhappiness.'\n\nThis time Dorani's eyelids quivered; but she said no more, and was\nsilent the rest of the day. However, in the evening, just as she was\nstepping into her palanquin, she said to the prince:\n\n'If you love me, prove it by not following me to-night.'\n\nAnd so the prince did as she wished, and stayed at home.\n\nThat evening the magic stool flew so unsteadily that they could hardly\nkeep their seats, and at last the fairy exclaimed:\n\n'There is only one reason that it should jerk like this! You have been\ntalking to your husband!'\n\nAnd Dorani replied: 'Yes, I have spoken; oh, yes, I have spoken!' But\nno more would she say.\n\nThat night Dorani sang so marvellously that at the end the rajah Indra\nrose up and vowed that she might ask what she would and he would give\nit to her. At first she was silent; but, when he pressed her, she\nanswered:\n\n'Give me the magic lute.'\n\nThe rajah, when he heard this, was displeased with himself for having\nmade so rash a promise, because this lute he valued above all his\npossessions. But as he had promised, so he must perform, and with an\nill grace he handed it to her.\n\n'You must never come here again,' said he, 'for, once having asked so\nmuch, how will you in future be content with smaller gifts?'\n\nDorani bowed her head silently as she took the lute, and passed with\nthe fairy out of the great gate, where the stool awaited them. More\nunsteadily than before, it flew back to earth.\n\nWhen Dorani got to the palace that morning she asked the prince\nwhether he had dreamt again. He laughed with happiness, for this time\nshe had spoken to him of her own free will; and he replied:\n\n'No; but I begin to dream now--not of what _has_ happened in the past,\nbut of what _may_ happen in the future.'\n\nThat day Dorani sat very quietly, but she answered the prince when he\nspoke to her; and when evening fell, and with it the time for her\ndeparture, she still sat on. Then the prince came close to her and\nsaid softly:\n\n'Are you not going to your house, Dorani?'\n\nAt that she rose and threw herself weeping into his arms, whispering\ngently:\n\n'Never again, my lord, never again would I leave thee!'\n\nSo the prince won his beautiful bride; and though they neither of them\ndealt any further with fairies and their magic, they learnt more daily\nof the magic of Love, which one may still learn, although fairy magic\nhas fled away.\n\n(Punjabi Story, Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE SATIN SURGEON_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a very rich and powerful king who, in spite\nof having been married several times, had only two daughters.\n\nThe elder was extremely plain--she squinted and was hunchbacked; but\nat the same time she was very clever and amusing, so, though at heart\nboth spiteful and untruthful, she was her father's favourite.\n\nThe younger princess, on the other hand, was both lovely and\nsweet-tempered, and those who knew her well could hardly say whether\nher charming face or pleasant manners was the more attractive.\n\nThe neighbouring country was governed by a young emperor, who, though\nnot much over twenty years of age, had shown great courage in battle,\nand, had he wished it, might very likely have conquered the whole\nworld. Luckily he preferred peace to war, and occupied his time with\ntrying to rule his own kingdom well and wisely. His people were very\nanxious that he should marry, and as the two princesses were the only\nladies to be heard of of suitable age and rank, the emperor sent\nenvoys to their father's court to ask for the hand of one of them in\nmarriage. But, as he was resolved only to marry a woman whom he could\nlove and be happy with, he determined to see the lady himself before\nmaking up his mind. For this purpose he set out in disguise not long\nafter the departure of his ambassadors, and arrived at the palace very\nsoon after they did; but as he had foolishly kept his plan secret, he\nfound, when he reached the court, that they had already made proposals\nfor the elder princess.\n\nNow the emperor might just as well have gone openly, for his presence\nsoon became known; and when the king heard of it he prepared to\nreceive him royally, though of course he had to pretend that he had no\nidea who he was. So it was settled that the ambassadors should present\ntheir master under the name of one of the princes, and in this manner\nhe was received by the king.\n\nAt night there was a grand ball at which the young emperor was able to\nsee the two princesses and to make their acquaintance. The ugly face\nand figure and spiteful remarks of the elder displeased him so greatly\nthat he felt he could not marry her even if she owned ten kingdoms,\nwhilst the sweet face and gentle manners of the younger sister charmed\nhim so much that he would gladly have shared his throne with her had\nshe been only a simple shepherdess.\n\nHe found it very difficult to conceal his thoughts and to pay the\nelder princess the amount of attention due to her, though he did his\nbest to be polite; while all he saw or heard during the next few days\nonly increased his love for her younger sister, and at last he\nconfessed that his dearest wish was to make her his wife, if she and\nher father would grant his desire.\n\nHe had commanded his ambassadors to put off their farewell audience\nfor a little time, hoping that the king might perceive the state of\nhis feelings; but when it could be deferred no longer, he bade them\npropose in his name for the younger princess.\n\nOn hearing this news, so different from what he had been led to\nexpect, the king who--as we have said before--was devoted to his elder\ndaughter and entirely under her influence, could hardly contain his\ndispleasure. Directly the audience was over he sent for the princess\nand told her of the insolent proposal the emperor had made for her\nsister. The princess was even more furious than her father, and after\nconsulting together they decided to send the younger daughter to some\ndistant place out of reach of the young emperor; but _where_ this\nshould be they did not quite know. However, at length, after they had\nboth racked their brains to find a suitable prison, they fixed on a\nlonely castle called the Desert Tower, where they thought she would be\nquite safe.\n\nMeantime, it was thought best to let the court gaieties go on as\nusual, and orders were given for all sorts of splendid entertainments;\nand on the day that was fixed for carrying off the princess, the whole\ncourt was invited to a great hunt in the forest.\n\nThe emperor and the young princess were counting the hours till this\nmorning, which promised to be so delightful, should dawn. The king and\nhis guest arrived together at the meeting-place, but what was the\nsurprise and distress of the young man at not seeing the object of his\nlove amongst the ladies present. He waited anxiously, looking up and\ndown, not hearing anything that the king said to him; and when the\nhunt began and she still was absent, he declined to follow, and spent\nthe whole day seeking her, but in vain.\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCESS GETS HER LETTER]\n\nOn his return, one of his attendants told him that some hours before\nhe had met the princess's carriage, escorted by a troop of soldiers\nwho were riding on each side, so that no one could get speech of her.\nHe had followed them at a distance, and saw them stop at the Desert\nTower, and on its return he noticed that the carriage was empty. The\nemperor was deeply grieved by this news. He left the court at once,\nand ordered his ambassadors to declare war the very next day, unless\nthe king promised to set free the princess. And more than this, no\nsooner had he reached his own country than he raised a large army,\nwith which he seized the frontier towns, before his enemy had had time\nto collect any troops. But, ere he quitted the court, he took care to\nwrite a letter to his beloved princess, imploring her to have\npatience and trust to him; and this he gave into the hands of his\nfavourite equerry, who would he knew lay down his life in his service.\n\nWith many precautions the equerry managed to examine the surroundings\nof the tower, and at last discovered, not only where the princess\nlodged, but that a little window in her room looked out on a desolate\nplot full of brambles.\n\nNow the unhappy princess was much annoyed that she was not even\nallowed to take the air at this little window, which was the only one\nin her room. Her keeper was her elder sister's former nurse, a woman\nwhose eyes never slept. Not for an instant could she be induced to\nstir from the side of the princess, and she watched her slightest\nmovement.\n\nOne day, however, the spy was for once busy in her room writing an\naccount of the princess to her elder sister, and the poor prisoner\nseized the opportunity to lean out of the window. As she looked about\nher she noticed a man hidden amongst the bushes, who stepped forward\nas soon as he caught sight of her, and showed her a letter, which he\ntook from his jerkin. She at once recognised him as one of the\nemperor's attendants, and let down a long string, to which he tied the\nletter. You can fancy how quickly she drew it up again, and luckily\nshe had just time to read it before her gaoler had finished her report\nand entered the room.\n\nThe princess's delight was great, and next day she managed to write an\nanswer on a sheet of her note book, and to throw it down to the\nequerry, who hastened to carry it back to his master. The emperor was\nso happy at having news of his dear princess, that he resolved, at all\nrisks, to visit the Desert Tower himself, if only to see her for a\nmoment. He ordered his equerry to ask leave to visit her, and the\nprincess replied that she should indeed rejoice to see him, but that\nshe feared that her gaoler's watchfulness would make his journey\nuseless, unless he came during the short time when the old woman was\nwriting alone in her own room.\n\nNaturally, the bare idea of difficulties only made the emperor more\neager than ever. He was ready to run any risks, but, by the advice of\nthe equerry, he decided to try cunning rather than force. In his next\nletter he enclosed a sleeping powder, which the princess managed to\nmix with her gaoler's supper, so that when the emperor reached the\ntower in the evening the princess appeared fearlessly at her window on\nhearing his signal. They had a long and delightful conversation, and\nparted in the fond hope that their meeting had not been observed. But\nin this they were sadly mistaken. The watchful eyes of the old nurse\nwere proof against any sleeping draught--she had seen and heard all;\nand lost no time in writing to report everything to her mistress.\n\nThe news made the spiteful little hunchback furious, and she resolved\nto be cruelly revenged for the contempt with which the emperor had\ntreated her. She ordered her nurse to pretend not to notice what might\nbe passing, and meantime she had a trap made so that if the emperor\npushed his way through the brambles at the foot of the tower, it would\nnot only catch him, as if he were a mouse, but would let loose a\nnumber of poisoned arrows, which would pierce him all over. When it\nwas ready, the trap was hidden amongst the brambles without being\nobserved by the princess.\n\nThat same evening the emperor hurried to the tower with all the\nimpatience of love. As he came near he heard the princess break into a\nlong, joyous peal of laughter. He advanced quickly to give the usual\nsignal, when suddenly his foot trod on something, he knew not what. A\nsharp, stinging pain ran through him, and he turned white and faint,\nbut, luckily, the trap had only opened a little way, and only a few of\nthe arrows flew out. For a moment he staggered, and then fell to the\nground covered with blood.\n\nHad he been alone he would have died very shortly, but his faithful\nsquire was close at hand, and carried his master off to the wood where\nthe rest of his escort were waiting for him. His wounds were bound up,\nand some poles were cut to make a rough litter, and, almost\nunconscious, the emperor was borne away out of his enemy's country to\nhis own palace.\n\nAll this time the princess was feeling very anxious. She had been\nwhiling away the hours before this meeting by playing with a little\npet monkey, which had been making such funny faces that, in spite of\nher troubles, she had burst into the hearty laugh overheard by the\nemperor. But by-and-by she grew restless, waiting for the signal which\nnever came, and, had she dared, would certainly have rebelled when her\ngaoler, whom she believed to be fast asleep, ordered her to go to bed\nat once.\n\nA fortnight passed, which was spent in great anxiety by the poor girl,\nwho grew thin and weak with the uncertainty. At the end of this\nperiod, when the nurse went to her room one morning as usual in order\nto write her daily report, she carelessly left the key in the door.\nThis was perceived by the princess, who turned it upon her so quickly\nand quietly that she never found out she was locked in till she had\nfinished writing, and got up to seek her charge.\n\nFinding herself free, the princess flew to the window, and to her\nhorror saw the arrows lying about amongst the bloodstained brambles.\nDistracted with terror she slipped down the stairs and out of the\ntower, and ran for some time along a path, when with great good luck\nshe met the husband of her own nurse, who had only just learned of her\nimprisonment, and was on his way to try and find out whether he could\nserve her. The princess begged him to get her some men's clothes while\nshe awaited him in a little wood close by. The good man was overjoyed\nto be of use, and started at once for the nearest town, where he soon\ndiscovered a shop where the court lackeys were accustomed to sell\ntheir masters' cast-off clothes. The princess dressed herself at once\nin the disguise he had brought, which was of rich material and covered\nwith precious stones; and, putting her own garments into a bag, which\nher servant hung over his shoulders, they both set out on their\njourney.\n\nThis lasted longer than either of them expected. They walked by day as\nfar as the princess could manage, and by night they slept in the open\nair. One evening they camped in a lovely valley watered by a rippling\nstream, and towards morning the princess was awakened by a charming\nvoice singing one of the songs of her own childhood. Anxious to find\nout where the sound came from, she walked to a thicket of myrtles,\nwhere she saw a little boy with a quiver at his back and an ivory bow\nin his hand, singing softly to himself as he smoothed the feathers of\nhis shafts.\n\n'Are you surprised at seeing my eyes open?' he asked, with a smile.\n'Ah! I am not always blind. And sometimes it is well to know what sort\nof a heart needs piercing. It was I who sent out my darts the day that\nyou and the emperor met, so, as I have caused the wound, I am in duty\nbound to find the cure!'\n\nThen he gave her a little bottle full of a wonderful salve with which\nto dress the emperor's wounds when she found him.\n\n'In two days you can reach his palace,' he said. 'Do not waste time,\nfor sometimes time is life.'\n\nThe princess thanked the boy with tears in her eyes, and hastened to\nawake her guide so that they might start, and set off at once on their\nway.\n\n  [Illustration: THE BOY IN THE VALLEY]\n\nAs the boy had foretold, in two days the tower and walls of the city\ncame in sight, and her heart beat wildly at the thought that she would\nsoon be face to face with the emperor, but on inquiring after his\nhealth she learned, to her horror, that he was sinking fast. For a\nmoment her grief was so great that she nearly betrayed herself. Then,\ncalling all her courage to her aid, she announced that she was a\ndoctor, and that if they would leave him in her charge for a few days\nshe would promise to cure him.\n\nNow, in order to make a good appearance at court the new doctor\nresolved to have an entire suit made of pale blue satin. She bought\nthe richest, most splendid stuff to be had in the shops, and summoned\na tailor to make it for her, engaging to pay him double if he would\nfinish the work in two hours. Next she went to the market, where she\nbought a fine mule, bidding her servant see that its harness was\nadorned with trappings of blue satin also.\n\nWhilst all was being made ready the princess asked the woman in whose\nhouse she lived whether she knew any of the emperor's attendants, and\nfound to her satisfaction that her cousin was his majesty's chief\nvalet. The doctor then bade the woman inform everyone she met that on\nhearing of the emperor's illness a celebrated surgeon had hastened to\nattend him, and had undertaken to cure him entirely; declaring himself\nprepared to be burnt alive in case of failure.\n\nThe good woman, who loved nothing better than a bit of gossip, hurried\nto the palace with her news. Her story did not lose in telling. The\ncourt physicians were very scornful about the new-comer, but the\nemperor's attendants remarked that as, in spite of their remedies, his\nmajesty was dying before their eyes, there could be no harm in\nconsulting this stranger.\n\nSo the lord chamberlain begged the young doctor to come and prescribe\nfor the royal patient without delay; and the doctor sent a message at\nonce, that he would do himself the honour to present himself at the\npalace, and he lost no time in mounting his mule and setting out. As\nthe people and soldiers saw him ride past they cried out:\n\n'Here comes the Satin Surgeon! Look at the Satin Surgeon! Long live\nthe Satin Surgeon!' And, on arriving, he was announced by this name,\nand at once taken to the sick room of the dying man.\n\nThe emperor was lying with his eyes closed, and his face as white as\nthe pillow itself; but directly he heard the new-comer's voice, he\nlooked up and smiled, and signed that he wished the new doctor to\nremain near him. Making a low bow, the Satin Surgeon assured the\nemperor that he felt certain of curing his malady, but insisted that\neveryone should leave the room except the emperor's favourite equerry.\nHe then dressed the wounds with the magic salve which the boy had\ngiven him, and it so relieved the emperor's pain that he slept soundly\nall that night.\n\nWhen morning broke, the courtiers and doctors hurried to the emperor's\nchamber, and were much surprised to find him free of pain. But they\nwere promptly ordered out of the room by the Satin Surgeon, who\nrenewed the dressings with such good results that next morning the\nemperor was nearly well, and able to leave his bed. As he grew\nstronger, his thoughts dwelt more and more on the cause of all his\nsufferings, and his spirits grew worse as his health grew better. The\nface and voice of his new doctor reminded him of the princess who had,\nhe imagined, betrayed him, and caused him such dreadful torture; and,\nunable to bear the thought, his eyes filled with tears.\n\nThe doctor noticed his sad countenance and did all he could to enliven\nhis patient with cheerful talk and amusing stories, till at last he\nwon the emperor's confidence and heard all the story of his love for a\nlady who had treated him cruelly, but whom, in spite of everything, he\ncould not help loving. The Satin Surgeon listened with sympathy, and\ntried to persuade the emperor that possibly the princess was not so\nmuch to blame as might appear; but, eager though the sick man was to\nbelieve this, it took a long while to persuade him of it. At length a\nday came when the emperor was nearly well, and for the last time the\ndoctor dressed the wounds with the precious salve. Then, both patient\nand surgeon, being wearied out with something they could not explain,\nfell asleep and slept for hours.\n\nEarly next morning, the princess, having decided to resume her own\nclothes which she had brought with her in a bag, dressed herself with\ngreat care and put on all her jewels so as to make herself look as\nlovely as possible. She had just finished when the emperor awoke,\nfeeling so strong and well that he thought he must be dreaming, nor\ncould he believe himself to be awake when he saw the princess draw\naside his curtains.\n\nFor some minutes they gazed at each other, unable to speak, and then\nthey only uttered little gasps of joy and thankfulness. By-and-by the\nprincess told him the whole story of her adventures since their last\ninterview at the Desert Tower; and the emperor, weak as he was, threw\nhimself at her feet with vows of love and gratitude, without ever\ngiving a thought to the fact that the household and court physicians\nwere awaiting their summons in the ante-room.\n\nThe emperor, anxious to prove how much he owed to the Satin Surgeon,\nopened his door himself, and great was everyone's surprise and joy at\nseeing him in such perfect health. Like good courtiers, they hastened\nin to praise and compliment the Satin Surgeon, but what was their\nastonishment on finding that he had disappeared, leaving in his place\nthe loveliest princess in the whole world.\n\n'Whilst thanking the surgeon for his miraculous cure, you might at the\nsame time do homage to your empress,' observed the emperor. He wished\nto have the marriage celebrated the same day, but the princess\ndeclared that she must wait to get her father's permission first.\n\nMessengers were therefore instantly despatched to the neighbouring\ncapital, and soon returned with the king's consent, for he had lately\ndiscovered all the mischief caused by his elder daughter.\n\nThe spiteful princess was so furious at the failure of her plans that\nshe took to her bed, and died in a fit of rage and jealousy. No one\ngrieved for her, and the king, being tired of the fatigues of\nGovernment, gave up his crown to his younger daughter; so the two\nkingdoms henceforth became one.\n\n(From the _Cabinet des Fees_.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE BILLY GOAT AND THE KING_\n\n\nOnce there lived a certain king who understood the language of all\nbirds and beasts and insects. This knowledge had of course been given\nhim by a fairy godmother; but it was rather a troublesome present, for\nhe knew that if he were ever to reveal anything he had thus learned he\nwould turn into a stone. How he managed to avoid doing so long before\nthis story opens I cannot say, but he had safely grown up to manhood,\nand married a wife, and was as happy as monarchs generally are.\n\nThis king, I must tell you, was a Hindu; and when a Hindu eats his\nfood he has a nice little place on the ground freshly plastered with\nmud, and he sits in the middle of it with very few clothes on--which\nis quite a different way from ours.\n\nWell, one day the king was eating his dinner in just such a nice,\nclean, mud-plastered spot, and his wife was sitting opposite to wait\nupon him and keep him company. As he ate he dropped some grains of\nrice upon the ground, and a little ant, who was running about seeking\na living, seized upon one of the grains and bore it off towards his\nhole. Just outside the king's circle this ant met another ant, and the\nking heard the second one say:\n\n'Oh, dear friend, do give me that grain of rice, and get another one\nfor yourself. You see my boots are so dirty that, if I were to go upon\nthe king's eating place, I should defile it, and I can't do that, it\nwould be so very rude.'\n\nBut the owner of the grain of rice only replied:\n\n'If you want rice go and get it. No one will notice your dirty boots;\nand you don't suppose that I am going to carry rice for all our\nkindred?'\n\nThen the king laughed.\n\nThe queen looked at herself up and down, but she could not see or feel\nanything in her appearance to make the king laugh, so she said:\n\n'What are you laughing at?'\n\n'Did I laugh?' replied the king.\n\n'Of course you did,' retorted the queen; 'and if you think that I am\nridiculous I wish you would say so, instead of behaving in that stupid\nway! What are you laughing at?'\n\n'I'm not laughing at anything,' answered the king.\n\n'Very well, but you _did_ laugh, and I want to know why.'\n\n'Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you,' said the king.\n\n'You _must_ tell me,' replied the queen impatiently. 'If you laugh\nwhen there's nothing to laugh at you must be ill or mad. What is the\nmatter?'\n\nStill the king refused to say, and still the queen declared that she\nmust and would know. For days the quarrel went on, and the queen gave\nher husband no rest, until at last the poor man was almost out of his\nwits, and thought that, as life had become for him hardly worth living\nwhile this went on, he might as well tell her the secret and take the\nconsequences.\n\n'But,' thought he, 'if I am to become a stone, I am not going to lie,\nif I can help it, on some dusty highway, to be kicked here and there\nby man and beast, flung at dogs, be used as the plaything of naughty\nchildren, and become generally restless and miserable. I will be a\nstone at the bottom of the cool river, and roll gently about there\nuntil I find some secure resting-place where I can stay for ever.'\n\nSo he told his wife that if she would ride with him to the middle of\nthe river he would tell her what he had laughed at. She thought he\nwas joking, and laughingly agreed; their horses were ordered and they\nset out.\n\n  [Illustration: THE KING LAUGHS AT THE BILLYGOAT]\n\nOn the way they came to a fine well beneath the shade of some lofty,\nwide-spreading trees, and the king proposed that they should get off\nand rest a little, drink some of the cool water, and then pass on. To\nthis the queen consented; so they dismounted and sat down in the\nshade by the well-side to rest.\n\nIt happened that an old goat and his wife were browsing in the\nneighbourhood, and, as the king and queen sat there, the nanny goat\ncame to the well's brink and peering over saw some lovely green leaves\nthat sprang in tender shoots out of the side of the well.\n\n'Oh!' cried she to her husband, 'come quickly and look. Here are some\nleaves which make my mouth water; come and get them for me!'\n\nThen the billy goat sauntered up and looked over, and after that he\neyed his wife a little crossly.\n\n'You expect me to get you those leaves, do you? I suppose you don't\nconsider how in the world I am to reach them? You don't seem to think\nat all; if you did you would know that if I tried to reach those\nleaves I should fall into the well and be drowned!'\n\n'Oh,' cried the nanny goat, 'why should you fall in? Do try and get\nthem!'\n\n'I am not going to be so silly,' replied the billy goat.\n\nBut the nanny goat still wept and entreated.\n\n'Look here,' said her husband, 'there are plenty of fools in the\nworld, but I am not one of them. This silly king here, because he\ncan't cure his wife of asking questions, is going to throw his life\naway. But I know how to cure you of your follies, and I'm going to.'\n\nAnd with that he butted the nanny goat so severely that in two minutes\nshe was submissively feeding somewhere else, and had made up her mind\nthat the leaves in the well were not worth having.\n\nThen the king, who had understood every word, laughed once more.\n\nThe queen looked at him suspiciously, but the king got up and walked\nacross to where she sat.\n\n'Are you still determined to find out what I was laughing at the other\nday?' he asked.\n\n'Quite,' answered the queen angrily.\n\n'Because,' said the king, tapping his leg with his riding whip, 'I've\nmade up my mind not to tell you, and moreover, I have made up my mind\nto stop you mentioning the subject any more.'\n\n'What _do_ you mean?' asked the queen nervously.\n\n'Well,' replied the king, 'I notice that if that goat is displeased\nwith his wife, he just butts her, and that seems to settle the\nquestion----'\n\n'Do you mean to say you would _beat_ me?' cried the queen.\n\n'I should be extremely sorry to have to do so,' replied the king; 'but\nI have got to persuade you to go home quietly, and to ask no more\nsilly questions when I say I cannot answer them. Of course, if you\n_will_ persist, why----'\n\nAnd the queen went home, and so did the king; and it is said that they\nare both happier and wiser than ever before.\n\n(Punjabi Story, Major Campbell, Feroshepore)\n\n\n\n\n_THE STORY OF ZOULVISIA_\n\n\nIn the midst of a sandy desert, somewhere in Asia, the eyes of\ntravellers are refreshed by the sight of a high mountain covered with\nbeautiful trees, among which the glitter of foaming waterfalls may be\nseen in the sunlight. In that clear, still air it is even possible to\nhear the song of the birds, and smell of the flowers; but though the\nmountain is plainly inhabited--for here and there a white tent is\nvisible--none of the kings or princes who pass it on the road to\nBabylon or Baalbec ever plunge into its forests--or, if they do, they\nnever come back. Indeed, so great is the terror caused by the evil\nreputation of the mountain that fathers, on their death-beds, pray\ntheir sons never to try to fathom its mysteries. But in spite of its\nill-fame, a certain number of young men every year announce their\nintention of visiting it and, as we have said, are never seen again.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow there was once a powerful king who ruled over a country on the\nother side of the desert, and, when dying, gave the usual counsel to\nhis seven sons. Hardly, however, was he dead than the eldest, who\nsucceeded to the throne, announced his intention of hunting in the\nenchanted mountain. In vain the old men shook their heads and tried to\npersuade him to give up his mad scheme. All was useless; he went, but\ndid not return; and in due time the throne was filled by his next\nbrother.\n\nAnd so it happened to the other five, but when the youngest became\nking, and he also proclaimed a hunt in the mountain, a loud lament was\nraised in the city.\n\n'Who will reign over us when you are dead? For dead you surely will\nbe,' cried they. 'Stay with us, and we will make you happy.' And for a\nwhile he listened to their prayers, and the land grew rich and\nprosperous under his rule. But in a few years the restless fit again\ntook possession of him, and this time he would hear nothing. Hunt in\nthat forest he would, and calling his friends and attendants round\nhim, he set out one morning across the desert.\n\nThey were riding through a rocky valley, when a deer sprang up in\nfront of them and bounded away. The king instantly gave chase,\nfollowed by his attendants; but the animal ran so swiftly that they\nnever could get up to it, and at length it vanished in the depths of\nthe forest.\n\nThen the young man drew rein for the first time, and looked about him.\nHe had left his companions far behind, and, glancing back, he beheld\nthem entering some tents, dotted here and there amongst the trees. For\nhimself, the fresh coolness of the woods was more attractive to him\nthan any food, however delicious, and for hours he strolled about as\nhis fancy led him.\n\nBy-and-by, however, it began to grow dark, and he thought that the\nmoment had arrived for them to start for the palace. So, leaving the\nforest with a sigh, he made his way down to the tents, but what was\nhis horror to find his men lying about, some dead, some dying. These\nwere past speech, but speech was needless. It was as clear as day that\nthe wine they had drunk contained deadly poison.\n\n'I am too late to help you, my poor friends,' he said, gazing at them\nsadly; 'but at least I can avenge you! Those that have set the snare\nwill certainly return to see to its working. I will hide myself\nsomewhere, and discover who they are!'\n\nNear the spot where he stood he noticed a large walnut tree, and into\nthis he climbed. Night soon fell, and nothing broke the stillness of\nthe place; but with the earliest glimpse of dawn a noise of galloping\nhoofs was heard.\n\nPushing the branches aside the young man beheld a youth approaching,\nmounted on a white horse. On reaching the tents the cavalier\ndismounted, and closely inspected the dead bodies that lay about them.\nThen, one by one, he dragged them to a ravine close by and threw them\ninto a lake at the bottom. While he was doing this, the servants who\nhad followed him led away the horses of the ill-fated men, and the\ncourtiers were ordered to let loose the deer, which was used as a\ndecoy, and to see that the tables in the tents were covered as before\nwith food and wine.\n\nHaving made these arrangements he strolled slowly through the forest,\nbut great was his surprise to come upon a beautiful horse hidden in\nthe depths of a thicket.\n\n'There was a horse for every dead man,' he said to himself. 'Then\nwhose is this?'\n\n'Mine!' answered a voice from a walnut tree close by. 'Who are you\nthat lure men into your power and then poison them? But you shall do\nso no longer. Return to your house, wherever it may be, and we will\nfight before it!'\n\nThe cavalier remained speechless with anger at these words; then with\na great effort he replied:\n\n'I accept your challenge. Mount and follow me. I am Zoulvisia.' And,\nspringing on his horse, he was out of sight so quickly that the king\nhad only time to notice that light seemed to flow from himself and his\nsteed, and that the hair under his helmet was like liquid gold.\n\nClearly, the cavalier was a woman. But who could she be? Was she queen\nof all the queens? Or was she chief of a band of robbers? She was\nneither: only a beautiful maiden.\n\n  [Illustration: 'I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE. MOUNT AND FOLLOW ME. I AM\n      ZOULVISIA.']\n\nWrapped in these reflections, he remained standing beneath the\nwalnut tree, long after horse and rider had vanished from sight. Then\nhe awoke with a start, to remember that he must find the way to the\nhouse of his enemy, though where it was he had no notion. However, he\ntook the path down which the rider had come, and walked along it for\nmany hours till he came to three huts side by side, in each of which\nlived an old fairy and her sons.\n\nThe poor king was by this time so tired and hungry that he could\nhardly speak, but when he had drunk some milk, and rested a little, he\nwas able to reply to the questions they eagerly put to him.\n\n'I am going to seek Zoulvisia,' said he, 'she has slain my brothers\nand many of my subjects, and I mean to avenge them.'\n\nHe had only spoken to the inhabitants of one house, but from all three\ncame an answering murmur.\n\n'What a pity we did not know! Twice this day has she passed our door,\nand we might have kept her prisoner.'\n\nBut though their words were brave their hearts were not, for the mere\nthought of Zoulvisia made them tremble.\n\n'Forget Zoulvisia, and stay with us,' they all said, holding out their\nhands; 'you shall be our big brother, and we will be your little\nbrothers.' But the king would not.\n\nDrawing from his pocket a pair of scissors, a razor and a mirror, he\ngave one to each of the old fairies, saying:\n\n'Though I may not give up my vengeance I accept your friendship, and\ntherefore leave you these three tokens. If blood should appear on the\nface of either know that my life is in danger, and, in memory of our\nsworn brotherhood, come to my aid.'\n\n'We will come,' they answered. And the king mounted his horse and set\nout along the road they showed him.\n\nBy the light of the moon he presently perceived a splendid palace,\nbut, though he rode twice round it, he could find no door. He was\nconsidering what he should do next, when he heard the sound of loud\nsnoring, which seemed to come from his feet. Looking down, he beheld\nan old man lying at the bottom of a deep pit, just outside the walls,\nwith a lantern by his side.\n\n'Perhaps _he_ may be able to give me some counsel,' thought the king;\nand, with some difficulty, he scrambled into the pit and laid his hand\non the shoulder of the sleeper.\n\n'Are you a bird or a snake that you can enter here?' asked the old\nman, awakening with a start. But the king answered that he was a mere\nmortal, and that he sought Zoulvisia.\n\n'Zoulvisia? The world's curse?' replied he, gnashing his teeth. 'Out\nof all the thousands she has slain I am the only one who has escaped,\nthough why she spared me only to condemn me to this living death I\ncannot guess.'\n\n'Help me if you can,' said the king. And he told the old man his\nstory, to which he listened intently.\n\n'Take heed then to my counsel,' answered the old man. 'Know that every\nday at sunrise Zoulvisia dresses herself in her jacket of pearls, and\nmounts the steps of her crystal watch-tower. From there she can see\nall over her lands, and behold the entrance of either man or demon. If\nso much as one is detected she utters such fearful cries that those\nwho hear her die of fright. But hide yourself in a cave that lies near\nthe foot of the tower, and plant a forked stick in front of it; then,\nwhen she has uttered her third cry, go forth boldly, and look up at\nthe tower. And go without fear, for you will have broken her power.'\n\n  [Illustration: THE ASCENT OF THE CRYSTAL TOWER]\n\nWord for word the king did as the old man had bidden him, and when\nhe stepped forth from the cave, their eyes met.\n\n'You have conquered me,' said Zoulvisia, 'and are worthy to be my\nhusband, for you are the first man who has not died at the sound of my\nvoice!' And letting down her golden hair, she drew up the king to the\nsummit of the tower as with a rope. Then she led him into the hall of\naudience, and presented him to her household.\n\n'Ask of me what you will, and I will grant it to you,' whispered\nZoulvisia with a smile, as they sat together on a mossy bank by the\nstream. And the king prayed her to set free the old man to whom he\nowed his life, and to send him back to his own country.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n'I have finished with hunting, and with riding about my lands,' said\nZoulvisia, the day that they were married. 'The care of providing for\nus all belongs henceforth to you.' And turning to her attendants, she\nbade them bring the horse of fire before her.\n\n'This is your master, O my steed of flame,' cried she; 'and you will\nserve him as you have served me.' And kissing him between his eyes,\nshe placed the bridle in the hand of her husband.\n\nThe horse looked for a moment at the young man, and then bent his\nhead, while the king patted his neck and smoothed his tail, till they\nfelt themselves old friends. After this he mounted to do Zoulvisia's\nbidding, but before he started she gave him a case of pearls\ncontaining one of her hairs, which he tucked into the breast of his\ncoat.\n\nHe rode along for some time, without seeing any game to bring home for\ndinner. Suddenly a fine stag started up almost under his feet, and he\nat once gave chase. On they sped, but the stag twisted and turned so\nthat the king had no chance of a shot till they reached a broad river,\nwhen the animal jumped in and swam across. The king fitted his\ncross-bow with a bolt, and took aim, but though he succeeded in\nwounding the stag, it contrived to gain the opposite bank, and in his\nexcitement he never observed that the case of pearls had fallen into\nthe water.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe stream, though deep, was likewise rapid, and the box was swirled\nalong miles, and miles, and miles, till it was washed up in quite\nanother country. Here it was picked up by one of the water-carriers\nbelonging to the palace, who showed it to the king. The workmanship of\nthe case was so curious, and the pearls so rare, that the king could\nnot make up his mind to part with it, but he gave the man a good\nprice, and sent him away. Then, summoning his chamberlain, he bade him\nfind out its history in three days, or lose his head.\n\nBut the answer to the riddle, which puzzled all the magicians and wise\nmen, was given by an old woman, who came up to the palace and told the\nchamberlain that, for two handfuls of gold, she would reveal the\nmystery.\n\nOf course the chamberlain gladly gave her what she asked, and in\nreturn she informed him that the case and the hair belonged to\nZoulvisia.\n\n'Bring her hither, old crone, and you shall have gold enough to stand\nup in,' said the chamberlain. And the old woman answered that she\nwould try what she could do.\n\nShe went back to her hut in the middle of the forest, and standing in\nthe doorway, whistled softly. Soon the dead leaves on the ground began\nto move and to rustle, and from underneath them there came a long\ntrain of serpents. They wriggled to the feet of the witch, who stooped\ndown and patted their heads, and gave each one some milk in a red\nearthen basin. When they had all finished, she whistled again, and\nbade two or three coil themselves round her arms and neck, while she\nturned one into a cane and another into a whip. Then she took a\nstick, and on the river bank changed it into a raft, and seating\nherself comfortably, she pushed off into the centre of the stream.\n\nAll that day she floated, and all the next night, and towards sunset\nthe following evening she found herself close to Zoulvisia's garden,\njust at the moment that the king, on the horse of flame, was returning\nfrom hunting.\n\n'Who are you?' he asked in surprise; for old women travelling on rafts\nwere not common in that country. 'Who are you, and why have you come\nhere?'\n\n'I am a poor pilgrim, my son,' answered she, 'and having missed the\ncaravan, I have wandered foodless for many days through the desert,\ntill at length I reached the river. There I found this tiny raft, and\nto it I committed myself, not knowing if I should live or die. But\nsince you have found me, give me, I pray you, bread to eat, and let me\nlie this night by the dog who guards your door!'\n\nThis piteous tale touched the heart of the young man, and he promised\nthat he would bring her food, and that she should pass the night in\nhis palace.\n\n'But mount behind me, good woman,' cried he, 'for you have walked far,\nand it is still a long way to the palace.' And as he spoke he bent\ndown to help her, but the horse swerved on one side.\n\nAnd so it happened twice and thrice, and the old witch guessed the\nreason, though the king did not.\n\n'I fear to fall off,' said she; 'but as your kind heart pities my\nsorrows, ride slowly, and lame as I am, I think I can manage to keep\nup.'\n\nAt the door he bade the witch to rest herself, and he would fetch her\nall she needed. But Zoulvisia his wife grew pale when she heard whom\nhe had brought, and besought him to feed the old woman and send her\naway, as she would cause mischief to befall them.\n\nThe king laughed at her fears, and answered lightly:\n\n'Why, one would think she was a witch to hear you talk! And even if\nshe were, what harm could she do to us?' And calling to the maidens he\nbade them carry her food, and to let her sleep in their chamber.\n\nNow the old woman was very cunning, and kept the maidens awake half\nthe night with all kinds of strange stories. Indeed, the next morning,\nwhile they were dressing their mistress, one of them suddenly broke\ninto a laugh, in which the others joined her.\n\n'What is the matter with you?' asked Zoulvisia. And the maid answered\nthat she was thinking of a droll adventure told them the evening\nbefore by the new-comer.\n\n'And, oh, madam!' cried the girl, 'it may be that she is a witch, as\nthey say; but I am sure she never would work a spell to harm a fly!\nAnd as for her tales, they would pass many a dull hour for you, when\nmy lord was absent!'\n\nSo, in an evil hour, Zoulvisia consented that the crone should be\nbrought to her, and from that moment the two were hardly ever apart.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne day the witch began to talk about the young king, and to declare\nthat in all the lands she had visited she had seen none like him.\n\n'It was so clever of him to guess your secret so as to win your\nheart,' said she. 'And of course he told you his, in return?'\n\n'No, I don't think he has got any,' returned Zoulvisia.\n\n'Not got any secrets?' cried the old woman scornfully. 'That is\nnonsense! Every man has a secret, which he always tells to the woman\nhe loves. And if he has not told it to _you_, it is that he does not\nlove you!'\n\n  [Illustration: THE WITCH AND HER SNAKES]\n\nThese words troubled Zoulvisia mightily, though she would not confess\nit to the witch. But the next time she found herself alone with her\nhusband, she began to coax him to tell her in what lay the secret of\nhis strength. For a long while he put her off with caresses, but when\nshe would be no longer denied, he answered:\n\n'It is my sabre that gives me strength, and day and night it lies by\nmy side. But now that I have told you, swear upon this ring, that I\nwill give you in exchange for yours, that you will reveal it to\nnobody.' And Zoulvisia swore; and instantly hastened to betray the\ngreat news to the old woman.\n\nFour nights later, when all the world was asleep, the witch softly\ncrept into the king's chamber and took the sabre from his side as he\nlay sleeping. Then, opening her lattice, she flew on to the terrace\nand dropped the sword into the river.\n\nThe next morning everyone was surprised because the king did not, as\nusual, rise early and go off to hunt. The attendants listened at the\nkeyhole and heard the sound of heavy breathing, but none dared enter,\ntill Zoulvisia pushed past. And what a sight met their gaze! There lay\nthe king almost dead, with foam on his mouth, and eyes that were\nalready closed. They wept, and they cried to him, but no answer came.\n\nSuddenly a shriek broke from those who stood hindmost, and in strode\nthe witch, with serpents round her neck and arms and hair. At a sign\nfrom her they flung themselves with a hiss upon the maidens, whose\nflesh was pierced with their poisonous fangs. Then turning to\nZoulvisia, she said:\n\n'I give you your choice--will you come with me, or shall the serpents\nslay you also?' And as the terrified girl stared at her, unable to\nutter one word, she seized her by the arm and led her to the place\nwhere the raft was hidden among the rushes. When they were both on\nboard she took the oars, and they floated down the stream till they\nhad reached the neighbouring country, where Zoulvisia was sold for a\nsack of gold to the king.\n\nNow, since the young man had entered the three huts on his way\nthrough the forest, not a morning had passed without the sons of the\nthree fairies examining the scissors, the razor and the mirror, which\nthe young king had left them. Hitherto the surfaces of all three\nthings had been bright and undimmed, but on this particular morning,\nwhen they took them out as usual, drops of blood stood on the razor\nand the scissors, while the little mirror was clouded over.\n\n'Something terrible must have happened to our little brother,' they\nwhispered to each other, with awestruck faces; 'we must hasten to his\nrescue ere it be too late.' And putting on their magic slippers they\nstarted for the palace.\n\nThe servants greeted them eagerly, ready to pour forth all they knew,\nbut that was not much; only that the sabre had vanished, none knew\nwhere. The new-comers passed the whole of the day in searching for it,\nbut it could not be found, and when night closed in, they were very\ntired and hungry. But how were they to get food? The king had not\nhunted that day, and there was nothing for them to eat. The little men\nwere in despair, when a ray of the moon suddenly lit up the river\nbeneath the walls.\n\n'How stupid! Of course there are fish to catch,' cried they; and\nrunning down to the bank they soon succeeded in landing some fine\nfish, which they cooked on the spot. Then they felt better, and began\nto look about them.\n\nFurther out, in the middle of the stream, there was a strange\nsplashing, and by-and-by the body of a huge fish appeared, turning and\ntwisting as if in pain. The eyes of all the brothers were fixed on the\nspot, when the fish leapt in the air, and a bright gleam flashed\nthrough the night. 'The sabre!' they shouted, and plunged into the\nstream, and with a sharp tug, pulled out the sword, while the fish lay\non the water, exhausted by its struggles. Swimming back with the\nsabre to land, they carefully dried it in their coats, and then\ncarried it to the palace and placed it on the king's pillow. In an\ninstant colour came back to the waxen face, and the hollow cheeks\nfilled out. The king sat up, and opening his eyes he said:\n\n'Where is Zoulvisia?'\n\n'That is what we do not know,' answered the little men; 'but now that\nyou are saved you will soon find out.' And they told him what had\nhappened since Zoulvisia had betrayed his secret to the witch.\n\n'Let me go to my horse,' was all he said. But when he entered the\nstable he could have wept at the sight of his favourite steed, which\nwas nearly in as sad a plight as his master had been. Languidly he\nturned his head as the door swung back on its hinges, but when he\nbeheld the king he rose up, and rubbed his head against him.\n\n'Oh, my poor horse! How much cleverer were you than I! If I had acted\nlike you I should never have lost Zoulvisia; but we will seek her\ntogether, you and I.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor a long while the king and his horse followed the course of the\nstream, but nowhere could he learn anything of Zoulvisia. At length,\none evening, they both stopped to rest by a cottage not far from a\ngreat city, and as the king was lying outstretched on the grass,\nlazily watching his horse cropping the short turf, an old woman came\nout with a wooden bowl of fresh milk, which she offered him.\n\nHe drank it eagerly, for he was very thirsty, and then laying down the\nbowl, began to talk to the woman, who was delighted to have someone to\nlisten to her conversation.\n\n'You are in luck to have passed this way just now,' said she, 'for in\nfive days the king holds his wedding banquet. Ah! but the bride is\nunwilling, for all her blue eyes and her golden hair! And she keeps by\nher side a cup of poison, and declares that she will swallow it\nrather than become his wife. Yet he is a handsome man too, and a\nproper husband for her--more than she could have looked for, having\ncome no one knows whither, and bought from a witch----'\n\nThe king started. Had he found her after all? His heart beat\nviolently, as if it would choke him; but he gasped out:\n\n'Is her name Zoulvisia?'\n\n'Ay, so she says, though the old witch---- But what ails you?' she\nbroke off, as the young man sprang to his feet and seized her wrists.\n\n'Listen to me,' he said. 'Can you keep a secret?'\n\n'Ay,' answered the old woman again, 'if I am paid for it.'\n\n'Oh, you shall be paid, never fear--as much as your heart can desire!\nHere is a handful of gold: you shall have as much again if you will do\nmy bidding.' The old crone nodded her head.\n\n'Then go and buy a dress such as ladies wear at court, and manage to\nget admitted into the palace, and into the presence of Zoulvisia. When\nthere, show her this ring, and after that she will tell you what to\ndo.'\n\nSo the old woman set off, and clothed herself in a garment of yellow\nsilk, and wrapped a veil closely round her head. In this dress she\nwalked boldly up the palace steps behind some merchants whom the king\nhad sent for to bring presents for Zoulvisia.\n\nAt first the bride would have nothing to say to any of them; but on\nperceiving the ring, she suddenly grew as meek as a lamb. And thanking\nthe merchants for their trouble, she sent them away, and remained\nalone with her visitor.\n\n'Grandmother,' asked Zoulvisia, as soon as the door was safely shut,\n'where is the owner of this ring?'\n\n'In my cottage,' answered the old woman, 'waiting for orders from\nyou.'\n\n'Tell him to remain there for three days; and now go to the king of\nthis country, and say that you have succeeded in bringing me to\nreason. Then he will let me alone and will cease to watch me. On the\nthird day from this I shall be wandering about the garden near the\nriver, and there your guest will find me. The rest concerns myself\nonly.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe morning of the third day dawned, and with the first rays of the\nsun a bustle began in the palace; for that evening the king was to\nmarry Zoulvisia. Tents were being erected of fine scarlet cloth,\ndecked with wreaths of sweet-smelling white flowers, and in them the\nbanquet was spread. When all was ready a procession was formed to\nfetch the bride, who had been wandering in the palace gardens since\ndaylight, and crowds lined the way to see her pass. A glimpse of her\ndress of golden gauze might be caught, as she passed from one flowery\nthicket to another; then suddenly the multitude swayed, and shrank\nback, as a thunderbolt seemed to flash out of the sky to the place\nwhere Zoulvisia was standing. Ah! but it was no thunderbolt, only the\nhorse of fire! And when the people looked again, it was bounding away\nwith two persons on its back.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nZoulvisia and her husband both learnt how to keep happiness when they\nhad got it; and _that_ is a lesson that many men and woman never learn\nat all. And besides, it is a lesson which nobody can teach, and that\nevery boy and girl must learn for themselves.\n\n(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)\n\n\n\n\n_GRASP ALL, LOSE ALL_\n\n\nOnce, in former times, there lived in a certain city in India a poor\noil-seller, called Dena, who never could keep any money in his\npockets; and when this story begins he had borrowed from a banker, of\nthe name of Lena, the sum of one hundred rupees; which, with the\ninterest Lena always charged, amounted to a debt of three hundred\nrupees. Now Dena was doing a very bad business, and had no money with\nwhich to pay his debt, so Lena was very angry, and used to come round\nto Dena's house every evening and abuse him until the poor man was\nnearly worried out of his life. Lena generally fixed his visit just\nwhen Dena's wife was cooking the evening meal, and would make such a\nscene that the poor oil-seller and his wife and daughter quite lost\ntheir appetites, and could eat nothing. This went on for some weeks,\ntill, one day, Dena said to himself that he could stand it no longer,\nand that he had better run away; and, as a man cannot fly easily with\na wife and daughter, he thought he must leave them behind. So that\nevening, instead of turning into his house as usual after his day's\nwork, he just slipped out of the city without knowing very well where\nhe was going.\n\nAt about ten o'clock that night Dena came to a well by the wayside,\nnear which grew a giant peepul tree; and, as he was very tired, he\ndetermined to climb it, and rest for a little before continuing his\njourney in the morning. Up he went and curled himself so comfortably\namongst the great branches that, overcome with weariness, he fell\nfast asleep. Whilst he slept, some spirits, who roam about such places\non certain nights, picked up the tree and flew away with it to a\nfar-away shore where no creature lived, and there, long before the sun\nrose, they set it down. Just then the oil-seller awoke; but instead of\nfinding himself in the midst of a forest, he was amazed to behold\nnothing but waste shore and wide sea, and was dumb with horror and\nastonishment. Whilst he sat up, trying to collect his senses, he began\nto catch sight here and there of twinkling, flashing lights, like\nlittle fires, that moved and sparkled all about, and wondered what\nthey were. Presently he saw one so close to him that he reached out\nhis hand and grasped it, and found that it was a sparkling red stone,\nscarcely smaller than a walnut. He opened a corner of his loin-cloth\nand tied the stone in it; and by-and-by he got another, and then a\nthird, and a fourth, all of which he tied up carefully in his cloth.\nAt last, just as the day was breaking, the tree rose, and, flying\nrapidly through the air, was deposited once more by the well where it\nhad stood the previous evening.\n\nWhen Dena had recovered a little from the fright which the\nextraordinary antics of the tree had caused him, he began to thank\nProvidence that he was alive, and, as his love of wandering had been\nquite cured, he made his way back to the city and to his own house.\nHere he was met and soundly scolded by his wife, who assailed him with\na hundred questions and reproaches. As soon as she paused for breath,\nDena replied:\n\n'I have only this one thing to say, just look what I have got!' And,\nafter carefully shutting all the doors, he opened the corner of his\nloin-cloth and showed her the four stones, which glittered and flashed\nas he turned them over and over.\n\n'Pooh!' said his wife, 'the silly pebbles! If it was something to eat,\nnow, there'd be some sense in them; but what's the good of _such_\nthings?' And she turned away with a sniff, for it had happened that\nthe night before, when Lena had come round as usual to storm at Dena,\nhe had been rather disturbed to find that his victim was from home,\nand had frightened the poor woman by his threats. Directly, however,\nhe heard that Dena had come back, Lena appeared in the doorway. For\nsome minutes he talked to the oil-seller at the top of his voice,\nuntil he was tired, then Dena said:\n\n'If your honour would deign to walk into my humble dwelling, I will\nspeak.'\n\nSo Lena walked in, and the other, shutting as before all the doors,\nuntied the corner of his loin-cloth and showed him the four great\nflashing stones.\n\n'This is all,' said he, 'that I have in the world to set against my\ndebt, for, as your honour knows, I haven't a penny, but the stones are\npretty!'\n\nNow Lena looked and saw at once that these were magnificent rubies,\nand his mouth watered for them; but as it would never do to show what\nwas in his mind, he went on:\n\n'What do I care about your stupid stones? It is my money I want, my\nlawful debt which you owe me, and I shall get it out of you yet\nsomehow or another, or it will be the worst for you.'\n\nTo all his reproaches Dena could answer nothing, but sat with his\nhands joined together beseechingly, asking for patience and pity. At\nlength Lena pretended that, rather than have a bad debt on his hand,\nhe would be at the loss of taking the stones in lieu of his money;\nand, whilst Dena nearly wept with gratitude, he wrote out a receipt\nfor the three hundred rupees; and, wrapping the four stones in a\ncloth, he put them into his bosom, and went off to his house.\n\n'How shall I turn these rubies into money?' thought Lena, as he walked\nalong; 'I daren't keep them, for they are of great value, and if the\nrajah heard that I had them he would probably put me into prison on\nsome pretence and seize the stones and all else that I have as well.\nBut what a bargain I have got! Four rubies worth a king's ransom, for\none hundred rupees! Well, well, I must take heed not to betray my\nsecret.' And he went on making plans. Presently he made up his mind\nwhat to do, and, putting on his cleanest clothes, he set off to the\nhouse of the chief wazir, whose name was Musli, and, after seeking a\nprivate audience, he brought out the four rubies and laid them before\nhim.\n\nThe wazir's eyes sparkled as he beheld the splendid gems.\n\n'Fine, indeed,' murmured he. 'I can't buy them at their real value;\nbut, if you like to take it, I will give you ten thousand rupees for\nthe four.'\n\nTo this the banker consented gratefully; and handing over the stones\nin exchange for the rupees, he hurried home, thanking his stars that\nhe had driven such a reasonable bargain and obtained such an enormous\nprofit.\n\nAfter Lena had departed the wazir began casting about in his mind what\nto do with the gems; and very soon determined that the best thing to\ndo was to present them to the rajah, whose name was Kahre. Without\nlosing a moment, he went that very day to the palace, and sought a\nprivate interview with the rajah; and when he found himself alone with\nhis royal master, he brought the four jewels and laid them before him.\n\n'Oh, ho!' said the rajah, 'these are priceless gems, and you have done\nwell to give them to me. In return I give you and your heirs the\nrevenues of ten villages.'\n\nNow the wazir was overjoyed at these words, but only made his deepest\nobeisance; and, whilst the king put the rubies into his turban,\nhurried away beaming with happiness at the thought that for ten\nthousand rupees he had become lord of ten villages. The rajah was also\nequally pleased, and strolled off with his new purchases to the\nwomen's quarters and showed them to the queen, who was nearly out of\nher mind with delight. Then, as she turned them over and over in her\nhands, she said: 'Ah! if I had eight more such gems, what a necklace\nthey would make! Get me eight more of them or I shall die!'\n\n'Most unreasonable of women,' cried the rajah, 'where am I to get\neight more such jewels as these? I gave ten villages for them, and yet\nyou are not satisfied!'\n\n'What does it matter?' said the rani; 'do you want me to die? Surely\nyou can get some more where these came from?' And then she fell to\nweeping and wailing until the rajah promised that in the morning he\nwould make arrangements to get some more such rubies, and that if she\nwould be patient she should have her desire.\n\nIn the morning the rajah sent for the wazir, and said that he must\nmanage to get eight more rubies like those he had brought him the day\nbefore, 'and if you don't I shall hang you,' cried the rajah, for he\nwas very cross. The poor wazir protested in vain that he knew not\nwhere to seek them; his master would not listen to a word he said.\n\n'You _must_,' said he; 'the rani shall not die for the want of a few\nrubies! Get more where those came from.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe wazir left the palace, much troubled in mind, and bade his slaves\nbring Lena before him. 'Get me eight more such rubies as those you\nbrought yesterday,' commanded the wazir, directly the banker was shown\ninto his presence. 'Eight more, and be quick, or I am a dead man.'\n\n'But how can I?' wailed Lena; 'rubies like those don't grow upon\nbushes!'\n\n'Where did you get them from?' asked the wazir.\n\n'From Dena, the oil-seller,' said the banker.\n\n'Well, send for him and ask him where _he_ got them,' answered the\nwazir. 'I am not going to hang for twenty Denas!' And more slaves were\nsent to summon Dena.\n\nWhen Dena arrived he was closely questioned, and then all three\nstarted to see the rajah, and to him Dena told the whole story.\n\n'What night was it that you slept in the peepul tree?' demanded the\nrajah.\n\n'I can't remember,' said Dena; 'but my wife will know.'\n\nThen Dena's wife was sent for, and she explained that it was on the\nlast Sunday of the new moon.\n\nNow everyone knows that it is on the Sunday of the new moon that\nspirits have special power to play pranks upon mortals. So the rajah\nforbade them all, on pain of death, to say a word to anyone; and\ndeclared that, on the next Sunday of the new moon, they four--Kahre,\nMusli, Lena and Dena--would go and sit in the peepul tree and see what\nhappened.\n\nThe days dragged on to the appointed Sunday, and that evening the four\nmet secretly, and entered the forest. They had not far to go before\nthey reached the peepul tree, into which they climbed as the rajah had\nplanned. At midnight the tree began to sway, and presently it moved\nthrough the air.\n\n'See, sire,' whispered Dena, 'the tree is flying!'\n\n'Yes, yes,' said the rajah, 'you have told the truth. Now sit quiet,\nand we shall see what happens.'\n\nAway and away flew the tree with the four men clinging tightly to its\nbranches, until at last it was set down by the waste sea-shore where a\ngreat wide sea came tumbling in on a desert beach. Presently, as\nbefore, they began to see little points of light that glistened like\nfires all around them. Then Dena thought to himself:\n\n'Think! last time I only took four that came close to me, and I got\nrid of all my debt in return. This time I will take all I can get and\nbe rich!'\n\n'If I got ten thousand rupees for four stones,' thought Lena, 'I will\ngather forty now for myself, and become so wealthy that they will\nprobably make me a wazir at least!'\n\n'For four stones I received ten villages,' Musli was silently\nthinking; 'now I will get stones enough to purchase a kingdom, become\na rajah, and employ wazirs of my own!'\n\n  [Illustration: SUDDENLY THE TREE ROSE UP AGAIN AND FLEW AWAY]\n\nAnd Kahre thought: 'What is the good of only getting eight stones?\nWhy, here are enough to make twenty necklaces; and wealth means\npower!'\n\nFull of avarice and desire, each scrambled down from the tree, spread\nhis cloth, and darted hither and thither picking up the precious\njewels, looking the while over his shoulder to see whether his\nneighbour fared better than he. So engrossed were they in the business\nof gathering wealth that the dawn came upon them unawares; and\nsuddenly the tree rose up again and flew away, leaving them upon the\nsea-shore staring after it, each with his cloth heavy with priceless\njewels.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMorning broke in the city, and great was the consternation in the\npalace when the chamberlains declared that the rajah had gone out the\nevening before and had not returned.\n\n'Ah!' said one, 'it is all right! Musli wazir will know where he is,\nfor it was he who was the king's companion.'\n\nThen they went to the wazir's house, and there they learnt that the\nwazir had left it the evening before and had not returned; 'but,' said\na servant, 'Lena the banker will know where he is, for it was with him\nthat Musli went.'\n\nThen they visited the house of Lena, and there they learnt that the\nbanker had gone out the evening before, and that he too had not\nreturned; but the porter told them that he was accompanied by Dena the\noil-seller, so he would know where they were.\n\nSo they departed to Dena's house, and Dena's wife met them with a\ntorrent of reproaches and wailings, for Dena too had gone off the\nevening before to Lena's house and had not returned.\n\nIn vain they waited, and searched--never did any of the hapless four\nreturn to their homes; and the confused tale which was told by Dena's\nwife was the only clue to their fate.\n\nTo this day, in that country, when a greedy man has overreached\nhimself, and lost all in grasping at too much, folks say:\n\n'All has he lost!--neither Dena, nor Lena, nor Musli, nor Kahre\nremain.' And not five men in a hundred know how the proverb began, nor\nwhat it really signifies.\n\n(Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE FATE OF THE TURTLE_\n\n\nIn a very hot country, far away to the east, was a beautiful little\nlake where two wild ducks made their home, and passed their days\nswimming and playing in its clear waters. They had it all to\nthemselves, except for a turtle, who was many years older than they\nwere, and had come there before them, and, luckily, instead of taking\na dislike to the turtle, as so often happens when you have only one\nperson to speak to, they became great friends, and spent most of the\nday in each other's company.\n\nAll went on smoothly and happily till one summer, when the rains\nfailed and the sun shone so fiercely that every morning there was a\nlittle less water in the lake and a little more mud on the bank. The\nwater-lilies around the edge began to droop, and the palms to hang\ntheir heads, and the ducks' favourite swimming place, where they could\ndive the deepest, to grow shallower and shallower. At length there\ncame a morning when the ducks looked at each other uneasily, and\nbefore nightfall they had whispered that if at the end of two days\nrain had not come, they must fly away and seek a new home, for if they\nstayed in their old one, which they loved so much, they would\ncertainly die of thirst.\n\nEarnestly they watched the sky for many hours before they tucked their\nheads under their wings and fell asleep from sheer weariness, but not\nthe tiniest cloud was to be seen covering the stars that shone so big\nand brilliant, and hung so low in the heavens that you felt as if you\ncould touch them. So, when the morning broke, they made up their\nminds that they must go and tell the turtle of their plans, and bid\nhim farewell.\n\nThey found him comfortably curled up on a pile of dead rushes, more\nthan half asleep, for he was old, and could not venture out in the\nheat as he once used.\n\n'Ah! here you are,' he cried; 'I began to wonder if I was ever going\nto see you again, for, somehow, though the lake has grown smaller, I\nseem to have grown weaker, and it is lonely spending all day and night\nby oneself!'\n\n'Oh! my friend,' answered the elder of the two ducks, 'if you have\nsuffered we have suffered also. Besides, I have something to tell you,\nthat I fear will cause you greater pain still. If we do not wish to\ndie of thirst we must leave this place at once, and seek another where\nthe sun's rays do not come. My heart bleeds to say this, for there is\nnothing--nothing else in the world--which would have induced us to\nseparate from you.'\n\nThe turtle was so astonished as well as so distressed at the duck's\nspeech that for a moment he could find no words to reply. But when he\nhad forced back his tears, he said in a shaky voice:\n\n'How can you think that I am able to live without you, when for so\nlong you have been my only friends? If you leave me, death will\nspeedily put an end to my grief.'\n\n'_Our_ sorrow is as great as yours,' answered the other duck, 'but\nwhat can we do? And remember that if we are not here to drink the\nwater, there will be the more for you! If it had not been for this\nterrible misfortune, be sure that nothing would have parted us from\none whom we love so dearly.'\n\n'My friends,' replied the turtle, 'water is as necessary to me as to\nyou, and if death stares in your faces, it stares in mine also. But in\nthe name of all the years we have passed together, do not, I beseech\nyou, leave me to perish here alone! Wherever you may go take me with\nyou!'\n\nThere was a pause. The ducks felt wretched at the thought of\nabandoning their old comrade, yet, at the same time, how could they\ngrant his prayer? It seemed quite impossible, and at length one of\nthem spoke:\n\n'Oh, how can I find words to refuse?' cried he, 'yet how can we do\nwhat you ask? Consider that, like yours, our bodies are heavy and our\nfeet small. Therefore, how could we walk with you over mountains and\ndeserts, till we reached a land where the sun's rays no longer burn?\nWhy, before the day was out we should all three be dead of fatigue and\nhunger! No, our only hope lies in our wings--and, alas! you cannot\nfly!'\n\n'No, I cannot fly, of course,' answered the turtle, with a sigh. 'But\nyou are so clever, and have seen so much of the world--surely you can\nthink of some plan?' And he fixed his eyes eagerly on them. Now, when\nthe ducks saw how ardently the turtle wished to accompany them their\nhearts were touched, and making a sign to their friend that they\nwished to be alone they swam out into the lake to consult together.\nThough he could not hear what they said, the turtle could watch, and\nthe half-hour that their talk lasted felt to him like a hundred years.\nAt length he beheld them returning side by side, and so great was his\nanxiety to know his fate he almost died from excitement before they\nreached him.\n\n'We hope we have found a plan that may do for you,' said the big duck\ngravely, 'but we must warn you that it is not without great danger,\nespecially if you are not careful to follow our directions.'\n\n'How is it possible that I should not follow your directions when my\nlife and happiness are at stake?' asked the turtle joyfully. 'Tell me\nwhat they are, and I will promise to obey them gratefully.'\n\n'Well, then,' answered the duck, 'whilst we are carrying you through\nthe air, in the manner that we have fixed upon, you must remain as\nquiet as if you were dead. However high above the earth you may find\nyourself, you must not feel afraid, nor move your feet nor open your\nmouth. No matter what you see or hear, it is absolutely needful for\nyou to be perfectly still, or I cannot answer for the consequences.'\n\n'I will be absolutely obedient,' answered the turtle, 'not only on\nthis occasion but during all my life; and once more I promise\nfaithfully not to move head or foot, to fear nothing, and never to\nspeak a word during the whole journey.'\n\nThis being settled, the ducks swam about till they found, floating in\nthe lake, a good stout stick. This they tied to their necks with some\nof the tough water-lily roots, and returned as quickly as they could\nto the turtle.\n\n'Now,' said the elder duck, pushing the stick gently towards his\nfriend, 'take this stick firmly in your mouth, and do not let it go\ntill we have set you down on earth again.'\n\nThe turtle did as he was told, and the ducks in their turn seized the\nstick by the two ends, spread their wings and mounted swiftly into the\nair, the turtle hanging between them.\n\nFor a while all went well. They swept across valleys, over great\nmountains, above ruined cities, but no lake was to be seen anywhere.\nStill, the turtle had faith in his friends, and bravely hung on to the\nstick.\n\nAt length they saw in the distance a small village, and very soon they\nwere passing over the roofs of the houses. The people were so\nastonished at the strange sight, that they all--men, women and\nchildren--ran out to see it, and cried to each other:\n\n'Look! look! behold a miracle! Two ducks supporting a turtle! Was ever\nsuch a thing known before!' Indeed, so great was the surprise that men\nleft their ploughing and women their weaving in order to add their\nvoices to their friends'.\n\nThe ducks flew steadily on, heeding nothing of the commotion below;\nbut not so the turtle. At first he kept silence, as he had been bidden\nto do, but at length the clamour below proved too much for him, and he\nbegan to think that everyone was envying him the power of travelling\nthrough the air. In an evil moment he forgot the promises he had made\nso solemnly, and opened his mouth to reply, but, before he could utter\na word, he was rushing so swiftly through the air that he quickly\nbecame unconscious, and in this state was dashed to pieces against the\nside of a house. Then the ducks let fall after him the stick that had\nheld up their friend, and which was of no further use. Sadly they\nlooked at each other and shook their heads.\n\n'We feared it would end so,' said they, 'yet, perhaps, he was right\nafter all. Certainly this death was better than the one which awaited\nhim.'\n\n(From _Les Contes et Fables Indiennes_. Par M. Galland, 1724.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE SNAKE PRINCE_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived by herself, in a city, an old woman who\nwas desperately poor. One day she found that she had only a handful of\nflour left in the house, and no money to buy more nor hope of earning\nit. Carrying her little brass pot, very sadly she made her way down to\nthe river to bathe and to obtain some water, thinking afterwards to\ncome home and to make herself an unleavened cake of what flour she had\nleft; and after that she did not know what was to become of her.\n\nWhilst she was bathing she left her little brass pot on the river bank\ncovered with a cloth, to keep the inside nice and clean; but when she\ncame up out of the river and took the cloth off to fill the pot with\nwater, she saw inside it the glittering folds of a deadly snake. At\nonce she popped the cloth again into the mouth of the pot and held it\nthere; and then she said to herself:\n\n'Ah, kind death! I will take thee home to my house, and there I will\nshake thee out of my pot and thou shalt bite me and I will die, and\nthen all my troubles will be ended.'\n\nWith these sad thoughts in her mind the poor old woman hurried home,\nholding her cloth carefully in the mouth of the pot; and when she got\nhome she shut all the doors and windows, and took away the cloth, and\nturned the pot upside down upon her hearthstone. What was her surprise\nto find that, instead of the deadly snake which she expected to see\nfall out of it, there fell out with a rattle and a clang a most\nmagnificent necklace of flashing jewels!\n\nFor a few minutes she could hardly think or speak, but stood staring;\nand then with trembling hands she picked the necklace up, and folding\nit in the corner of her veil, she hurried off to the king's hall of\npublic audience.\n\n'A petition, O king!' she said. 'A petition for thy private ear\nalone!' And when her prayer had been granted, and she found herself\nalone with the king, she shook out her veil at his feet, and there\nfell from it in glittering coils the splendid necklace. As soon as the\nking saw it he was filled with amazement and delight, and the more he\nlooked at it the more he felt that he must possess it at once. So he\ngave the old woman five hundred silver pieces for it, and put it\nstraightway into his pocket. Away she went full of happiness; for the\nmoney that the king had given her was enough to keep her for the rest\nof her life.\n\nAs soon as he could leave his business the king hurried off and showed\nhis wife his prize, with which she was as pleased as he, if not more\nso; and, as soon as they had finished admiring the wonderful necklace,\nthey locked it up in the great chest where the queen's jewellery was\nkept, the key of which hung always round the king's neck.\n\nA short while afterwards, a neighbouring king sent a message to say\nthat a most lovely girl baby had been born to him; and he invited his\nneighbours to come to a great feast in honour of the occasion. The\nqueen told her husband that of course they must be present at the\nbanquet, and she would wear the new necklace which he had given her.\nThey had only a short time to prepare for the journey, and at the last\nmoment the king went to the jewel chest to take out the necklace for\nhis wife to wear, but he could see no necklace at all, only, in its\nplace, a fat little boy baby crowing and shouting. The king was so\nastonished that he nearly fell backwards, but presently he found his\nvoice, and called for his wife so loudly that she came running,\nthinking that the necklace must at least have been stolen.\n\n'Look here! look!' cried the king, 'haven't we always longed for a\nson? And now heaven has sent us one!'\n\n'What do you mean?' cried the queen. 'Are you mad?'\n\n'Mad? no, I hope not,' shouted the king, dancing in excitement round\nthe open chest. 'Come here, and look! Look what we've got instead of\nthat necklace!'\n\nJust then the baby let out a great crow of joy, as though he would\nlike to jump up and dance with the king; and the queen gave a cry of\nsurprise, and ran up and looked into the chest.\n\n'Oh!' she gasped, as she looked at the baby, 'what a darling! Where\ncould he have come from?'\n\n'I'm sure I can't say,' said the king; 'all I know is that we locked\nup a necklace in the chest, and when I unlocked it just now there was\nno necklace, but a baby, and as fine a baby as ever was seen.'\n\nBy this time the queen had the baby in her arms. 'Oh, the blessed\none!' she cried, 'fairer ornament for the bosom of a queen than any\nnecklace that ever was wrought. Write,' she continued, 'write to our\nneighbour and say that we cannot come to his feast, for we have a\nfeast of our own, and a baby of our own! Oh, happy day!'\n\nSo the visit was given up; and, in honour of the new baby, the bells\nof the city, and its guns, and its trumpets, and its people, small and\ngreat, had hardly any rest for a week; there was such a ringing, and\nbanging, and blaring, and such fireworks, and feasting, and rejoicing,\nand merry-making, as had never been seen before.\n\nA few years went by; and, as the king's boy baby and his neighbour's\ngirl baby grew and throve, the two kings arranged that as soon as they\nwere old enough they should marry; and so, with much signing of\npapers and agreements, and wagging of wise heads, and stroking of\ngrey beards, the compact was made, and signed, and sealed, and lay\nwaiting for its fulfilment. And this too came to pass; for, as soon as\nthe prince and princess were eighteen years of age, the kings agreed\nthat it was time for the wedding; and the young prince journeyed away\nto the neighbouring kingdom for his bride, and was there married to\nher with great and renewed rejoicings.\n\nNow, I must tell you that the old woman who had sold the king the\nnecklace had been called in by him to be the nurse of the young\nprince; and although she loved her charge dearly, and was a most\nfaithful servant, she could not help talking just a little, and so,\nby-and-by, it began to be rumoured that there was some magic about the\nyoung prince's birth; and the rumour of course had come in due time to\nthe ears of the parents of the princess. So now that she was going to\nbe the wife of the prince, her mother (who was curious, as many other\npeople are) said to her daughter on the eve of the ceremony:\n\n'Remember that the first thing you must do is to find out what this\nstory is about the prince. And in order to do it, you must not speak a\nword to him whatever he says until he asks you why you are silent;\nthen you must ask him what the truth is about his magic birth; and\nuntil he tells you, you must not speak to him again.'\n\nAnd the princess promised that she would follow her mother's advice.\n\nTherefore when they were married, and the prince spoke to his bride,\nshe did not answer him. He could not think what was the matter, but\neven about her old home she would not utter a word. At last he asked\nwhy she would not speak; and then she said:\n\n'Tell me the secret of your birth.'\n\nThen the prince was very sad and displeased, and although she pressed\nhim sorely he would not tell her, but always reply:\n\n'If I tell you, you will repent that ever you asked me.'\n\nFor several months they lived together; and it was not such a happy\ntime for either as it ought to have been, for the secret was still a\nsecret, and lay between them like a cloud between the sun and the\nearth, making what should be fair, dull and sad.\n\n  [Illustration: THE SNAKE PRINCE VISITS HIS WIFE]\n\nAt length the prince could bear it no longer; so he said to his wife\none day: 'At midnight I will tell you my secret if you still wish it;\nbut you will repent it all your life.' However, the princess was\noverjoyed that she had succeeded, and paid no attention to his\nwarnings.\n\nThat night the prince ordered horses to be ready for the princess and\nhimself a little before midnight. He placed her on one, and mounted\nthe other himself, and they rode together down to the river to the\nplace where the old woman had first found the snake in her brass pot.\nThere the prince drew rein and said sadly: 'Do you still insist that I\nshould tell you my secret?' And the princess answered 'Yes.' 'If I\ndo,' answered the prince, 'remember that you will regret it all your\nlife.' But the princess only replied 'Tell me!'\n\n'Then,' said the prince, 'know that I am the son of the king of a far\ncountry, but by enchantment I was turned into a snake.'\n\nThe word 'snake' was hardly out of his lips when he disappeared, and\nthe princess heard a rustle and saw a ripple on the water; and in the\nfaint moonlight she beheld a snake swimming into the river. Soon it\ndisappeared and she was left alone. In vain she waited with beating\nheart for something to happen, and for the prince to come back to her.\nNothing happened and no one came; only the wind mourned through the\ntrees on the river bank, and the night birds cried, and a jackal\nhowled in the distance, and the river flowed black and silent beneath\nher.\n\nIn the morning they found her, weeping and dishevelled, on the river\nbank; but no word could they learn from her or from anyone as to the\nfate of her husband. At her wish they built on the river bank a little\nhouse of black stone; and there she lived in mourning, with a few\nservants and guards to watch over her.\n\nA long, long time passed by, and still the princess lived in mourning\nfor her prince, and saw no one, and went nowhere away from her house\non the river bank and the garden that surrounded it. One morning, when\nshe woke up, she found a stain of fresh mud upon the carpet. She sent\nfor the guards, who watched outside the house day and night, and asked\nthem who had entered her room while she was asleep. They declared that\nno one _could_ have entered, for they kept such careful watch that not\neven a bird could fly in without their knowledge; but none of them\ncould explain the stain of mud. The next morning, again, the princess\nfound another stain of wet mud, and she questioned everyone most\ncarefully; but none could say how the mud came there. The third night\nthe princess determined to lie awake herself and watch; and, for fear\nthat she might fall asleep, she cut her finger with a penknife and\nrubbed salt into the cut, that the pain of it might keep her from\nsleeping. So she lay awake, and at midnight she saw a snake come\nwriggling along the ground with some mud from the river in its mouth;\nand when it came near the bed, it reared up its head and dropped its\nmuddy head on the bedclothes. She was very frightened, but tried to\ncontrol her fear, and called out:\n\n'Who are you, and what do you here?'\n\nAnd the snake answered:\n\n'I am the prince, your husband, and I am come to visit you.'\n\nThen the princess began to weep; and the snake continued:\n\n'Alas! did I not say that if I told you my secret you would repent it?\nand have you not repented?'\n\n'Oh, indeed!' cried the poor princess, 'I have repented it, and shall\nrepent it all my life! Is there nothing I can do?'\n\nAnd the snake answered:\n\n'Yes, there is one thing, if you dared to do it.'\n\n'Only tell me,' said the princess, 'and I will do _anything_!'\n\n'Then,' replied the snake, 'on a certain night you must put a large\nbowl of milk and sugar in each of the four corners of this room. All\nthe snakes in the river will come out to drink the milk, and the one\nthat leads the way will be the queen of the snakes. You must stand in\nher way at the door, and say: \"Oh, Queen of Snakes, Queen of Snakes,\ngive me back my husband!\" and perhaps she will do it. But if you are\nfrightened, and do not stop her, you will never see me again.' And he\nglided away.\n\nOn the night of which the snake had told her, the princess got four\nlarge bowls of milk and sugar, and put one in each corner of the room,\nand stood in the doorway waiting. At midnight there was a great\nhissing and rustling from the direction of the river, and presently\nthe ground appeared to be alive with horrible writhing forms of\nsnakes, whose eyes glittered and forked tongues quivered as they moved\non in the direction of the princess's house. Foremost among them was a\nhuge, repulsive scaly creature that led the dreadful procession. The\nguards were so terrified that they all ran away; but the princess\nstood in the doorway, as white as death, and with her hands clasped\ntight together for fear she should scream or faint, and fail to do her\npart. As they came closer and saw her in the way, all the snakes\nraised their horrid heads and swayed them to and fro, and looked at\nher with wicked beady eyes, while their breath seemed to poison the\nvery air. Still the princess stood firm, and, when the leading snake\nwas within a few feet of her, she cried: 'Oh, Queen of Snakes, Queen\nof Snakes, give me back my husband!' Then all the rustling, writhing\ncrowd of snakes seemed to whisper to one another 'Her husband? her\nhusband?' But the queen of snakes moved on until her head was almost\nin the princess's face, and her little eyes seemed to flash fire. And\nstill the princess stood in the doorway and never moved, but cried\nagain: 'Oh, Queen of Snakes, Queen of Snakes, give me back my\nhusband!' Then the queen of snakes replied: 'To-morrow you shall have\nhim--to-morrow!' When she heard these words and knew that she had\nconquered, the princess staggered from the door, and sank upon her bed\nand fainted. As in a dream, she saw that her room was full of snakes,\nall jostling and squabbling over the bowls of milk until it was\nfinished. And then they went away.\n\n  [Illustration: 'QUEEN OF SNAKES, GIVE ME BACK MY HUSBAND']\n\nIn the morning the princess was up early, and took off the mourning\ndress which she had worn for five whole years, and put on gay and\nbeautiful clothes. And she swept the house and cleaned it, and adorned\nit with garlands and nosegays of sweet flowers and ferns, and prepared\nit as though she were making ready for her wedding. And when night\nfell she lit up the woods and gardens with lanterns, and spread a\ntable as for a feast, and lit in the house a thousand wax candles.\nThen she waited for her husband, not knowing in what shape he would\nappear. And at midnight there came striding from the river the prince,\nlaughing, but with tears in his eyes; and she ran to meet him, and\nthrew herself into his arms, crying and laughing too.\n\nSo the prince came home; and the next day they two went back to the\npalace, and the old king wept with joy to see them. And the bells, so\nlong silent, were set a-ringing again, and the guns firing, and the\ntrumpets blaring, and there was fresh feasting and rejoicing.\n\nAnd the old woman who had been the prince's nurse became nurse to the\nprince's children--at least she was called so; though she was far too\nold to do anything for them but love them. Yet she still thought that\nshe was useful, and knew that she was happy. And happy, indeed, were\nthe prince and princess, who in due time became king and queen, and\nlived and ruled long and prosperously.\n\n(Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS IN THE FOREST_\n\n\nThere were, once upon a time, a king and queen of Denmark who had an\nonly son, a handsome and clever lad. When he was eighteen, his father,\nthe old king, fell very ill, and there was no hope that he would ever\nget well again. The queen and the prince were very unhappy, for they\nloved him dearly; but though they did all they could, he only grew\nworse and worse, and, one day, when the summer had come and the birds\nwere singing, he raised his head and, taking a long look out of the\nwindow, fell back dead.\n\nDuring many weeks the queen could hardly eat or sleep, so sorely did\nshe grieve for him, and the prince feared that she would die also if\nshe went on weeping; so he begged her to go with him to a beautiful\nplace that he knew of on the other side of the forest, and after some\ntime she consented. The prince was overjoyed, and arranged that they\nshould set off early next morning.\n\nThey travelled all day, only stopping now and then to rest, and\nalready the queen began to be better and to take a little interest in\nthe things she saw. Just as the evening was coming on they entered the\nforest. Here it was quite dark, for the trees grew so close together\nthat the sun could not shine through them, and very soon they lost the\npath, and wandered helplessly about wondering what they should do.\n\n'If we sleep in this dreadful place,' said the queen, who was tired\nand frightened, 'the wild beasts will eat us.' And she began to cry.\n\n'Cheer up, mother,' answered her son, 'I have a feeling that luck is\ncoming to us.' And at the next turning they came to a little house, in\nthe window of which a light was burning.\n\n'Didn't I tell you so?' cried the prince. 'Stay here a moment and I\nwill go and see if I can get food and shelter for the night.' And away\nhe ran as fast as he could go, for by this time they were very hungry,\nas they had brought very little food with them and had eaten up every\nscrap! When one takes a long journey on foot one does not like to have\ntoo much to carry.\n\nThe prince entered the house and looked about him, going from one room\nto the other, but seeing nobody and finding nothing to eat. At last,\nas he was going sorrowfully away, he caught sight of a sword and shirt\nof mail hanging on the wall in an inner room, with a piece of paper\nfastened under them. On the paper was some writing, which said that\nwhoever wore the coat and carried the sword would be safe from all\ndanger.\n\nThe prince was so delighted at the sight that he forgot how hungry he\nwas, and instantly slipped on the coat of chain armour under his\ntunic, and hid the sword under his cloak, for he did not mean to say\nanything about what he had found. Then he went back to his mother, who\nwas waiting impatiently for him.\n\n'What have you been doing all this time?' she asked angrily. 'I\nthought you had been killed by robbers!'\n\n'Oh, just looking round,' he answered; 'but though I searched\neverywhere I could find nothing to eat.'\n\n'I am very much afraid that it is a robbers' den,' said the queen. 'We\nhad better go on, hungry though we are.'\n\n'No, it isn't; but still, we had better not stay here,' replied the\nprince, 'especially as there is nothing to eat. Perhaps we shall find\nanother house.'\n\nThey went on for some time, until, sure enough, they came to another\nhouse, which also had a light in the window.\n\n'We'll go in here,' said the prince.\n\n'No, no; I am afraid!' cried the queen. 'We shall be attacked and\nkilled! It is a robbers' den: I am sure it is!'\n\n'Yes, it looks like it; but we can't help that,' said her son. 'We\nhave had nothing to eat for hours, and I'm nearly as tired as you.'\n\nThe poor queen was, indeed, quite worn out; she could hardly stand for\nfatigue, and in spite of her terror was half anxious to be persuaded.\n\n'And there's going to be a storm,' added the prince; who feared\nnothing now that he had the sword.\n\nSo they went into the house, where they found nobody. In the first\nroom stood a table laid for a meal, with all sorts of good things to\neat and drink, though some of the dishes were empty.\n\n'Well, this looks nice,' said the prince, sitting down and helping\nhimself to some delicious strawberries piled on a golden dish, and\nsome iced lemonade. Never had anything tasted so nice; but, all the\nsame, it _was_ a robbers' den they had come to, and the robbers, who\nhad only just dined, had gone out into the forest to see whom they\ncould rob.\n\nWhen the queen and the prince could eat no more they remembered that\nthey were very tired, and the prince looked about till he discovered a\ncomfortable bed, with silken sheets, standing in the next room.\n\n'You get into bed, mother,' he said, 'and I'll lie down by the side.\nDon't be alarmed; you can sleep quite safely till the morning.' And he\nlay down with his sword in his hand, and kept watch until the day\nbegan to break; then the queen woke up and said she was quite rested\nand ready to start again.\n\n'First I'll go out into the forest and see if I can find our road,'\nsaid the prince. 'And while I'm gone you light the fire and make some\ncoffee. We must eat a good breakfast before we start.'\n\n  [Illustration: THE ROBBER-CHIEF CATCHES THE QUEEN]\n\nAnd he ran off into the wood.\n\nAfter he had gone the queen lit the fire, and then thought she would\nlike to see what was in the other rooms; so she went from one to\nanother, and presently came to one that was very prettily furnished,\nwith lovely pictures on the walls, and pale blue curtains and soft\nyellow cushions and comfortable easy chairs. As she was looking at all\nthese things, suddenly a trap-door opened in the floor, and the\nrobber-chief came out of the hole and seized her ankles. The queen\nalmost died of fright, and shrieked loudly, then fell on her knees and\nbegged him to spare her life.\n\n'Yes, if you will promise me two things,' he replied; 'first that you\nwill take me home to your country and let me be crowned king instead\nof your son; and secondly, that you will kill him in case he should\ntry to take the throne from me--if you will not agree to this I shall\nkill you.'\n\n'Kill my own son!' gasped the queen, staring at him in horror.\n\n'You need not do that exactly,' said the robber. 'When he returns,\njust lie on the bed and say that you have been taken ill, and add that\nyou have dreamed that in a forest, a mile away, there are some\nbeautiful apples. If you could only get some of these you would be\nwell again, but if not you will die.'\n\nThe queen shuddered as she listened. She was fond of her son, but she\nwas a terrible coward; and so in the end she agreed, hoping that\nsomething would occur to save the prince. She had hardly given her\npromise when a step was heard, and the robber hastily hid himself.\n\n'Well, mother,' cried the prince as he entered, 'I have been through\nthe forest and found the road, so we will start directly we have had\nsome breakfast.'\n\n'Oh, I feel so ill!' said the queen. 'I could not walk a single step;\nand there is only one thing that will cure me.'\n\n'What is that?' asked the prince.\n\n'I dreamed,' answered the queen, in a faint voice, 'that, a mile\naway, there is a forest where the most beautiful apples grow, and if I\ncould have some of them I should soon be well again.'\n\n'Oh! but dreams don't mean anything,' said the prince. 'There is a\nmagician who lives near here. I'll go to him and ask for a spell to\ncure you.'\n\n'My dreams always mean something,' said the queen, shaking her head.\n'If I don't get any apples I shall die.' She did not know why the\nrobber wanted to send the prince to this particular forest, but as a\nmatter of fact it was full of wild animals who would tear to pieces\nany traveller who entered it.\n\n'Well, I'll go,' answered the prince. 'But I really must have some\nbreakfast first; I shall walk all the faster.'\n\n'If you do not hurry you will find me dead when you come back,'\nmurmured the queen fretfully. She thought her son was not nearly\nanxious enough about her, and by this time she had begun to believe\nthat she really was as ill as she had said.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the prince had eaten and drunk, he set off, and soon came to a\nforest, and sure enough it was full of lions and tigers, and bears and\nwolves, who came rushing towards him; but instead of springing on him\nand tearing him to pieces, they lay down on the ground and licked his\nhands. He speedily found the tree with the apples which his mother\nwanted, but the branches were so high he could not reach them, and\nthere was no way of climbing up the smooth trunk.\n\n'It is no use after all, I can't get up there,' he said to himself.\n'What am I to do now?'\n\nBut, as he turned away, his sword chanced to touch the tree, and\nimmediately two apples fell down. He picked them up joyfully, and was\ngoing away when a little dog came out of a hill close by, and running\nup to him, began tugging at his clothes and whining.\n\n'What do you want, little dog?' asked the prince, stooping down to\npat his soft black head.\n\nThe dog ran to a hole that was in the hill and sat there looking out,\nas much as to say: 'Come along in with me.'\n\n'I may as well go and see what is in there,' thought the prince, and\nhe went over to the hill. But the hole was so small that he could not\nget through it, so he thrust his sword into it, and immediately it\nbecame larger.\n\n'Ha, ha!' he chuckled; 'it's worth something to have a sword like\nthat.' And he bent down and crept through the hole.\n\nThe first thing he beheld, when he entered a room at the very end of a\ndark passage, was a beautiful princess, who was bound by an iron chain\nto an iron pillar.\n\n'What evil fate brought you here?' he asked in surprise: and the lady\nanswered:\n\n'It isn't much use for me to tell you lest my lot becomes yours.'\n\n'I am not afraid of that. Tell me who you are and what has brought you\nhere,' begged the prince.\n\n'My story is not long,' she said, smiling sadly. 'I am a princess from\nArabia, and twelve robbers who dwell in this place are fighting among\nthemselves as to which shall have me to wife.'\n\n'Shall I save you?' asked the prince. And she answered:\n\n'Yes; but you can't do it. To begin with, how could you break the\nchain I am bound with?'\n\n'Oh, that's easy enough,' said he, taking out his sword; and directly\nit touched the chain the links fell apart and the princess was free.\n\n'Come!' said the prince, taking her hand. But she drew back.\n\n'No, I dare not!' she cried. 'If we should meet the robbers in the\npassage they would kill us both.'\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCESS OF ARABIA RELEASED FROM THE IRON PILLAR]\n\n'Not they!' said the prince, brandishing his sword. 'But how long\nhave you been here?' he added quickly.\n\n'About twenty years, I think,' said the princess, reckoning with her\nfingers.\n\n'Twenty years!' exclaimed the prince. 'Then you had better shut your\neyes, for when you have been sitting there so long it might hurt you\nto go too suddenly into the daylight. So you are the Princess of\nArabia, whose beauty is famous throughout all the world! I, too, am a\nprince.'\n\n'Will you not come back to Arabia and marry me, now you have saved my\nlife?' asked the princess. 'Even if my father is living still, he must\nbe old, and after his death you can be king.'\n\n'No,' replied the prince, 'I cannot do that--I must live and die in my\nown country. But at the end of a year I will follow you and marry\nyou.' And that was all he would say.\n\nThen the princess took a heavy ring from her finger and put it on his.\nHer father's and her mother's names were engraved in it, as well as\nher own, and she asked him to keep it as a reminder of his promise.\n\n'I will die before I part from it,' said the prince. 'And if at the\nend of a year I am still living, I will come. I believe I have heard\nthat at the other side of this forest there is a port from which ships\nsail to Arabia. Let us hasten there at once.'\n\nHand in hand they set off through the forest, and when they came to\nthe port they found a ship just ready to sail. The princess said\ngood-bye to the prince, and went on board the vessel, and when she\nreached her own country there were great rejoicings, for her parents\nhad never expected to see her again. She told them how a prince had\nsaved her from the robbers, and was coming in a year's time to marry\nher, and they were greatly pleased.\n\n'All the same,' said the king, 'I wish he were here now. A year is a\nlong time.'\n\nWhen the princess was no longer before his eyes, the prince\nrecollected why he had entered the forest, and made all the haste he\ncould back to the robbers' home.\n\nThe robber-chief could smell the apples from afar, for he had a nose\nlike an ogre, and he said to the queen:\n\n'That is a strange fellow! If he had gone into the forest the wild\nbeasts must have eaten him unless he has a powerful charm to protect\nhim. If that is so we must get it away from him.'\n\n'No, he has nothing,' answered the queen, who was quite fascinated by\nthe robber.\n\nBut the robber did not believe her.\n\n'We must think of a way to get it,' he said. 'When he comes in say you\nare well again, and have some food ready for him. Then, whilst he is\neating, tell him you dreamed that he was attacked by wild beasts, and\nask him how he managed to escape from them. After he has told you I\ncan easily find a way to take his charm from him.'\n\nShortly after the prince came in.\n\n'How are you, mother!' he said gaily. 'Here are your apples. Now you\nwill soon be well again, and ready to come away with me.'\n\n'Oh, I am better already,' she said. 'And see, your dinner is all hot\nfor you, eat it up, and then we will start.'\n\nWhilst he was eating she said to him: 'I had a horrible dream while\nyou were away. I saw you in a forest full of wild animals, and they\nwere running round you and growling fiercely. How did you manage to\nescape from them?'\n\n'Oh, it was only a dream!' laughed the prince.\n\n'But _my_ dreams are always true,' said his mother. 'Tell me how it\nwas.'\n\nThe prince wondered for some time whether he should tell her or not,\nbut at last he decided to let her into the secret.\n\n'One should tell one's mother everything,' he thought. And he told\nher.\n\n'See, mother, here are a sword and a mail shirt which I found in the\nfirst house we entered in the forest, and as long as I carry them\nnothing can hurt me. That is what saved me from the wild beasts.'\n\n'How can I be thankful enough!' exclaimed the queen. And directly the\nprince's back was turned, she hurried to tell the robber.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe robber, as soon as he heard the news, made a sleeping-draught, and\nbade the queen give it to her son before he went to bed that night.\n\nAccordingly, as soon as the prince began to get sleepy, the queen\nhanded him the cup containing the draught.\n\n'Drink this, to please me,' she said. 'It will do you good after all\nyou've gone through, and make you sleep well.'\n\n'What an odd taste it has!' murmured the prince as he drank it.\n\nImmediately he fell asleep; and the robber came in and took away his\nsword and shirt of mail.\n\n'These things belong to my brother,' he said. After he had got them\nboth in his hand the robber woke him.\n\n'I am the master now,' said he. 'Choose one of two things--either you\nmust die, or your eyes will be put out, and you will be sent back to\nthe forest.'\n\nThe prince's blood grew cold at these words. Then a thought struck\nhim, and he turned to his mother: 'Is this _your_ doing?' he asked\nsternly. And though she burst into tears and denied it, the prince\nknew she was not telling the truth.\n\n'Well,' said he, '\"whilst there is life there is hope.\" I will go back\nto the forest.'\n\nThen the robber put out his eyes, gave him a stick, and some food and\ndrink, and drove him into the forest, hoping that the wild beasts\nwould kill him, as he no longer had the sword and shirt to protect\nhim.\n\n'Now,' he said to the queen, 'we will return to your country.'\n\nThe next day they set sail, and as soon as they reached home, they\nwere married, and the robber became king.\n\nMeanwhile the poor prince was wandering about in the forest, hoping to\nfind someone who would help him, and perhaps take him into service,\nfor now he had no money and no home. It so happened that there had\nbeen a great hunt in the forest, and the wild beasts had all fled\nbefore the hunters and were hiding, so nothing did him any harm. At\nlast one day, just when his food was all gone and he had made up his\nmind that he must surely die of hunger, he came to the port whence the\nships sailed for Arabia. One vessel was just ready to start, and the\ncaptain was going on board when he saw the prince.\n\n'Why, here is a poor blind fellow!' he said. 'No doubt that is the\nwork of the robbers. Let us take him to Arabia with us. Would you like\nto come, my good man?' he asked the prince.\n\nOh, how glad he was to hear someone speak kindly to him again! And he\nanswered that he would, and the sailors helped him to climb up the\nside of the ship. When they got to Arabia the captain took him to the\npublic baths, and ordered one of the slaves to wash him. Whilst he was\nbeing washed the princess's ring slipped off his finger and was\nafterwards found by the slave who cleaned out the bath. The man showed\nit to a friend of his who lived at the palace.\n\n'Why, it is the princess's ring!' he said. 'Where did it come from?'\n\n'It fell off a blind man's finger,' said the slave. 'He must have\nstolen it; but I dare say you will be able to return it to the\nprincess.'\n\nSo that evening the man took the ring to the palace and gave it to\nhis daughter, who was the princess's favourite slave, and the girl\ngave it to her mistress. When the princess saw it she uttered a cry of\njoy.\n\n'It is the ring I gave my betrothed!' she said. 'Take me to him at\nonce.'\n\nThe bath-keeper thought it strange that the princess should be\nbetrothed to a blind beggar, but he did as she bade him, and when she\nsaw the prince she cried:\n\n'At last you have come! The year is over, and I thought you were dead.\nNow we will be married immediately.' And she went home and told the\nking that he was to send an escort to bring her betrothed to the\npalace. Naturally the king was rather surprised at the sudden arrival\nof the prince; but when he heard that he was blind he was very much\nannoyed.\n\n'I cannot have a blind person to succeed me,' he said. 'It is\nperfectly absurd!'\n\nBut the princess had had her own way all her life, and in the end the\nking gave way as he had always done. The prince was taken to the\npalace with much ceremony and splendour; but in spite of this the king\nwas not contented. Still, it could not be helped, and really it was\ntime the princess was married, though she looked as young as ever.\nThere had been hundreds of knights and princes who had begged her to\nbestow her hand upon them, but she would have nothing to do with\nanyone; and now she had taken it into her head to marry this blind\nprince, and nobody else would she have.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne evening, as it was fine, the prince and princess went into the\ngarden, and sat down under a tree.\n\nTwo ravens were perched on a bush near by, and the prince, who could\nunderstand bird language, heard one of them say: 'Do you know that it\nis Midsummer-eve to-night?'\n\n'Yes,' said the other.\n\n'And do you know that part of the garden which is known as the\nQueen's Bed?'\n\n'Yes.'\n\n'Well, perhaps you don't know this, that whoever has bad eyes, or no\neyes at all, should bathe his eye-sockets in the dew that falls there\nto-night, because then he will get his sight back. Only he must do it\nbetween twelve and one o'clock.'\n\nThat was good news for the prince and princess to hear, and the young\nman begged the princess to lead him to the place called the Queen's\nBed, which was the little plot of grass where the queen used often to\nlie down and take her midday nap. Then, between twelve and one\no'clock, he bathed his eyes with the dew that was falling there, and\nfound he could see again as well as ever.\n\n'I can see you!' he said to the princess, gazing at her as if he had\nnever seen anything before.\n\n'I don't believe it,' she answered.\n\n'Well, go and hang your handkerchief on a bush, and if I find it at\nonce you _must_ believe me,' he said.\n\nAnd so she did, and he went straight up to the handkerchief.\n\n'Yes, indeed, you can see,' cried the princess. 'To think that my\nmother's bed has really given back your sight!' and she went to the\nbank and sat down again; and by-and-by, as the day was hot, the\nprincess fell asleep. As the prince watched her he suddenly saw\nsomething shining on her neck. It was a little golden lamp that gave\nout a bright light, and it hung from a golden chain. The prince\nthought he would like to examine it more closely, so he unfastened the\nchain, but as he did so the lamp fell to the ground. Before he could\npick it up a hawk flew in, snatched up the little lamp and flew away\nagain with it. The prince set off in pursuit, and ran on and on\nwithout being able to catch the bird, until at length he had lost his\nway. Trying to find it, he wandered on, up and down, until he came to\nthe forest where he had found the princess.\n\nMeantime, the princess woke up, and finding herself alone she set out\nto look for him. In the end she also lost her way, and as she was\nwalking about, not knowing what to do, the robbers captured her and\ntook her back to the cave from which the prince had rescued her. So\nthere they were after all their trouble--no better off than before!\n\n  [Illustration: THE HAWK FLIES AWAY WITH THE LAMP]\n\nThe prince wandered on, trying to find his way back to Arabia, until\nhe chanced one day to meet twelve youths, walking gaily through the\nforest, singing and laughing. 'Where are you going?' he asked. And\nthey told him they were looking for work.\n\n'I'll join you, if I may,' said the prince. And they answered: 'The\nmore the merrier.'\n\nThen the prince went with them, and they all journeyed on until they\nmet an old troll.\n\n'Where are you going, my masters?' asked the troll.\n\n'To seek service,' they told him.\n\n'Then come and serve me,' he said; 'there will be plenty to eat and\ndrink, and not much work to do, and if, at the end of a year, you can\nanswer three questions, I'll give you each a sack of gold. Otherwise\nyou must be turned into beasts.'\n\nThe youths thought this sounded easy enough, so they went home with\nthe troll to his castle.\n\n'You will find all that you want here,' he said; 'and all you need do\nis to take care of the house, for I am going away, and shall only\nreturn when the year is over.'\n\nThen he went away, and the young men, left to themselves, had a fine\ntime of it; for they did no work, and only amused themselves with\nsinging and drinking. Every day they found the table laid with good\nthings to eat and drink, and when they had finished, the plates and\ndishes were cleared away by invisible hands. Only the prince, who was\nsad for his lost princess, ate and drank sparingly, and worked hard\nkeeping the house in order.\n\nOne day, as he sat in his own room, he heard the voice of the old\ntroll beneath his window talking to another troll.\n\n'To-morrow,' said he, 'the year is up.'\n\n'And what questions will you ask?' inquired the other.\n\n'First I shall ask how long they have been here--they don't know, the\nyoung fools! Secondly I shall ask what shines on the roof of the\ncastle.'\n\n'And what is that?'\n\n'The lamp that was stolen by me from the princess as she slept in the\ngarden.'\n\n'And what is the third question?'\n\n'I shall ask where the food and drink they consume every day come\nfrom. I steal it from the king's table; but they don't know that.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe day after, the troll entered.\n\n'Now I shall ask my questions,' said he. 'To begin with: How long have\nyou been here?'\n\nThe young men had been so busy drinking and making merry that they had\nforgotten all about the agreement, so they remained silent.\n\n'One week,' said one, at last.\n\n'Two months,' guessed another. But the prince answered, 'One year.'\n\n'Right,' replied the troll. But the second question was more\ndifficult.\n\n'What is it that shines on the roof?'\n\nThe young men guessed and guessed. 'The sun--the moon.' But none of\nthem really knew.\n\n'May I answer?' asked the prince.\n\n'Yes, certainly,' replied the troll; and the prince spoke.\n\n'The lamp that you stole from the princess whilst she was asleep in\nthe garden.' And again the troll nodded.\n\nThe third question was harder still.\n\n'Where does the meat and drink you have had here come from?'\n\nNone of the young men could guess.\n\n'May I say?' asked the prince.\n\n'Yes, if you can,' replied the troll.\n\n'It comes from the king's table,' said the prince.\n\nAnd that was all. Now they might take the sacks of gold and go, and\nthe young men went off in such a hurry that the prince was left\nbehind. Presently, they met an old man who asked for money.\n\n'No, we haven't any,' they answered.\n\nSo they hurried on, and by-and-by up came the prince.\n\n'Has your lordship a piece of money for a poor man?' asked the old\nfellow.\n\n'Yes,' said the prince, and gave him his whole sackful.\n\n'I don't want it,' said the old man, who was really the troll they had\njust left in disguise. 'But since you're so generous, here is the\nprincess's lamp, and the princess herself is in the cave where you\nfound her; but how you're going to save her again without the magic\nsword I don't know.'\n\nWhen he heard that, the prince knew where she was; and that was the\nbeginning of her rescue. So he disguised himself to look like a\npeddler and travelled on until he reached his own city, where his\nmother, the queen, and the robber-chief were living. Then he went in\nto a goldsmith's shop and ordered a great number of kitchen pots to be\nmade out of pure gold. That was not an order the goldsmith had every\nday, but the things were ready at last, saucepans and kettles and\ngridirons all of pure gold. Then the prince put them in his basket and\nwent up to the palace, and asked to see the queen.\n\nDirectly she heard about the wonderful gold pots and pans she came out\nat once, and began unpacking the basket and admiring the things. She\nwas so absorbed in them that the prince soon found an opportunity to\nsteal into the bedroom and take the sword and shirt which were hung\nthere, and go back again without his mother having noticed his\nabsence.\n\n'The things are all beautiful!' she said. 'How much would you take for\nthem?'\n\n'Name your own price, your majesty,' answered the prince.\n\n'I really don't know what to say,' said the queen. 'Wait till my\nhusband comes back--men understand such things better; and then, as\nyou are a stranger, he would like to chat with you a little.' The\nprince bowed, and waited silently in a corner.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSoon after the robber returned.\n\n'Come and see all these lovely gold saucepans!' cried the queen.\n\nBut, as the robber entered the room, the prince touched him with the\nmagic sword, and he fell to the ground.\n\n'Perhaps, now you know me, mother,' the prince said, taking off his\ndisguise, 'you had better repent for all the wrong you have done me,\nor your life will be short.'\n\n'Oh, have mercy!' she cried, 'I could not help it. I was so\nfrightened.'\n\nThe prince had mercy. He ordered the wicked king to be stripped of his\nfine clothes, and to be driven into the forest, where the wild beasts\ntore him to pieces. The queen he sent to her own country. Then he set\noff for the cave where the princess was sitting chained as before, and\nwith the help of the magic sword he rescued her again without any\ndifficulty. They soon reached the port and set sail for Arabia, where\nthey were married; and till they died, a long while after, they\nreigned happily over both countries.\n\n(From _Eventyr fra Gylbauck samlede og optegnede af Evald Tang\nKristensen_. Translated from the Danish by Mrs. Skovgaard-Pedersen.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE CLEVER WEAVER_\n\n\nOnce upon a time the king of a far country was sitting on his throne,\nlistening to the complaints of his people, and judging between them.\nThat morning there had been fewer cases than usual to deal with, and\nthe king was about to rise and go into his gardens, when a sudden stir\nwas heard outside, and the lord high chamberlain entered, and inquired\nif his majesty would be graciously pleased to receive the ambassador\nof a powerful emperor who lived in the east, and was greatly feared by\nthe neighbouring sovereigns. The king, who stood as much in dread of\nhim as the rest, gave orders that the envoy should be admitted at\nonce, and that a banquet should be prepared in his honour. Then he\nsettled himself again on his throne, wondering what the envoy had to\nsay.\n\nThe envoy said nothing. He advanced to the throne where the king was\nawaiting him, and stooping down, traced on the floor with a rod which\nhe held in his hand a black circle all round it. Then he sat down on a\nseat that was near, and took no further notice of anyone.\n\nThe king and his courtiers were equally mystified and enraged at this\nstrange behaviour, but the envoy sat as calm and still as an image,\nand it soon became plain that they would get no explanation from\n_him_. The ministers were hastily summoned to a council, but not one\nof them could throw any light upon the subject. This made the king\nmore angry than ever, and he told them that unless before sunset they\ncould find someone capable of solving the mystery he would hang them\nall.\n\nThe king was, as the ministers knew, a man of his word; and they\nquickly mapped out the city into districts, so that they might visit\nhouse by house, and question the occupants as to whether they could\nfathom the action of the ambassador. Most of them received no reply\nexcept a puzzled stare; but, luckily, one of them was more observant\nthan the rest, and on entering an empty cottage where a swing was\nswinging of itself, he began to think it might be worth while for him\nto see the owner. Opening a door leading into another room, he found a\nsecond swing, swinging gently like the first, and from the window he\nbeheld a patch of corn, and a willow which moved perpetually without\nany wind, in order to frighten away the sparrows. Feeling more and\nmore curious, he descended the stairs and found himself in a large\nlight workshop in which was seated a weaver at his loom. But all the\nweaver did was to guide his threads, for the machine that he had\ninvented to set in motion the swings and the willow pole made the loom\nwork.\n\nWhen he saw the great wheel standing in the corner, and had guessed\nthe use of it, the merchant heaved a sigh of relief. At any rate, if\nthe weaver could not guess the riddle, he at least might put the\nminister on the right track. So without more ado he told the story of\nthe circle, and ended by declaring that the person who could explain\nits meaning should be handsomely rewarded.\n\n'Come with me at once,' he said. 'The sun is low in the heavens, and\nthere is no time to lose.'\n\nThe weaver stood thinking for a moment and then walked across to a\nwindow, outside of which was a hen-coop with two knuckle-bones lying\nbeside it. These he picked up, and taking the hen from the coop, he\ntucked it under his arm.\n\n'I am ready,' he answered, turning to the minister.\n\nIn the hall the king still sat on his throne, and the envoy on his\nseat. Signing to the minister to remain where he was, the weaver\nadvanced to the envoy, and placed the knuckle-bones on the floor\nbeside him. For answer, the envoy took a handful of millet seed out of\nhis pocket and scattered it round; upon which the weaver set down the\nhen, who ate it up in a moment. At that the envoy rose without a word,\nand took his departure.\n\nAs soon as he had left the hall, the king beckoned to the weaver.\n\n'You alone seem to have guessed the riddle,' said he, 'and great shall\nbe your reward. But tell me, I pray you, what it all means?'\n\n'The meaning, O king,' replied the weaver, 'is this: The circle drawn\nby the envoy round your throne is the message of the emperor, and\nsignifies, \"If I send an army and surround your capital, will you lay\ndown your arms?\" The knuckle-bones which I placed before him told him,\n\"You are but children in comparison with us. Toys like these are the\nonly playthings you are fit for.\" The millet that he scattered was an\nemblem of the number of soldiers that his master can bring into the\nfield; but by the hen which ate up the seed he understood that one of\nour men could destroy a host of theirs.'\n\n'I do not think,' he added, 'that the emperor will declare war.'\n\n'You have saved me and my honour,' cried the king, 'and wealth and\nglory shall be heaped upon you. Name your reward, and you shall have\nit even to the half of my kingdom.'\n\n'The small farm outside the city gates, as a marriage portion for my\ndaughter, is all I ask,' answered the weaver, and it was all he would\naccept. 'Only, O king,' were his parting words, 'I would beg of you to\nremember that weavers also are of value to a state, and that they are\nsometimes cleverer even than ministers!'\n\n(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE BOY WHO FOUND FEAR AT LAST_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a woman who had one son whom she loved\ndearly. The little cottage in which they dwelt was built on the\noutskirts of a forest, and as they had no neighbours, the place was\nvery lonely, and the boy was kept at home by his mother to bear her\ncompany.\n\nThey were sitting together on a winter's evening, when a storm\nsuddenly sprang up, and the wind blew the door open. The woman started\nand shivered, and glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected to\nsee some horrible thing behind her. 'Go and shut the door,' she said\nhastily to her son, 'I feel frightened.'\n\n'Frightened?' repeated the boy. 'What does it feel like to be\nfrightened?'\n\n'Well--just frightened,' answered the mother. 'A fear of something,\nyou hardly know what, takes hold of you.'\n\n'It must be very odd to feel like that,' replied the boy. 'I will go\nthrough the world and seek fear till I find it.' And the next morning,\nbefore his mother was out of bed, he had left the forest behind him.\n\nAfter walking for some hours he reached a mountain, which he began to\nclimb. Near the top, in a wild and rocky spot, he came upon a band of\nfierce robbers, sitting round a fire. The boy, who was cold and tired,\nwas delighted to see the bright flames, so he went up to them and\nsaid, 'Good greeting to you, sirs,' and wriggled himself in between\nthe men, till his feet almost touched the burning logs.\n\nThe robbers stopped drinking and eyed him curiously, and at last the\ncaptain spoke.\n\n'No caravan of armed men would dare to come here, even the very birds\nshun our camp, and who are you to venture in so boldly?'\n\n'Oh, I have left my mother's house in search of fear. Perhaps you can\nshow it to me?'\n\n'Fear is wherever _we_ are,' answered the captain.\n\n'But _where_?' asked the boy, looking round. 'I see nothing.'\n\n'Take this pot and some flour and butter and sugar over to the\nchurchyard which lies down there, and bake us a cake for supper,'\nreplied the robber. And the boy, who was by this time quite warm,\njumped up cheerfully, and slinging the pot over his arm, ran down the\nhill.\n\nWhen he got to the churchyard he collected some sticks and made a\nfire; then he filled the pot with water from a little stream close by,\nand mixing the flour and butter and sugar together, he set the cake on\nto cook. It was not long before it grew crisp and brown, and then the\nboy lifted it from the pot and placed it on a stone, while he put out\nthe fire. At that moment a hand was stretched from a grave, and a\nvoice said:\n\n'Is that cake for me?'\n\n'Do you think I am going to give to the dead the food of the living?'\nreplied the boy, with a laugh. And giving the hand a tap with his\nspoon, and picking up the cake, he went up the mountain side,\nwhistling merrily.\n\n'Well, have you found fear?' asked the robbers when he held out the\ncake to the captain.\n\n  [Illustration: THE BOY SECURES THE BRACELET]\n\n'No; was it there?' answered the boy. 'I saw nothing but a hand which\ncame from a grave, and belonged to someone who wanted my cake, but I\njust rapped the fingers with my spoon, and said it was not for him,\nand then the hand vanished. Oh, how nice the fire is!' And he flung\nhimself on his knees before it, and so did not notice the glances of\nsurprise cast by the robbers at each other.\n\n'There is another chance for you,' said one at length. 'On the other\nside of the mountain lies a deep pool; go to that, and perhaps you may\nmeet fear on the way.'\n\n'I hope so, indeed,' answered the boy. And he set out at once.\n\nHe soon beheld the waters of the pool gleaming in the moonlight, and\nas he drew near he saw a tall swing standing just over it, and in the\nswing a child was seated, weeping bitterly.\n\n'That is a strange place for a swing,' thought the boy; 'but I wonder\nwhat he is crying about.' And he was hurrying on towards the child,\nwhen a maiden ran up and spoke to him.\n\n'I want to lift my little brother from the swing,' cried she, 'but it\nis so high above me, that I cannot reach. If you will get closer to\nthe edge of the pool, and let me mount on your shoulder, I think I can\nreach him.'\n\n'Willingly,' replied the boy, and in an instant the girl had climbed\nto his shoulders. But instead of lifting the child from the swing, as\nshe could easily have done, she pressed her feet so firmly on either\nside of the youth's neck, that he felt that in another minute he would\nbe choked, or else fall into the water beneath him. So gathering up\nall his strength, he gave a mighty heave, and threw the girl\nbackwards. As she touched the ground a bracelet fell from her arm, and\nthis the youth picked up.\n\n'I may as well keep it as a remembrance of all the queer things that\nhave happened to me since I left home,' he said to himself, and\nturning to look for the child, he saw that both it and the swing had\nvanished, and that the first streaks of dawn were in the sky.\n\nWith the bracelet on his arm, the youth started for a little town\nwhich was situated in the plain on the further side of the mountain,\nand as, hungry and thirsty, he entered its principal street, a Jew\nstopped him. 'Where did you get that bracelet?' asked the Jew. 'It\nbelongs to me.'\n\n'No, it is mine,' replied the boy.\n\n'It is not. Give it to me at once, or it will be the worse for you!'\ncried the Jew.\n\n'Let us go before a judge, and tell him our stories,' said the boy.\n'If he decides in your favour, you shall have it; if in mine, I will\nkeep it!'\n\nTo this the Jew agreed, and the two went together to the great hall,\nin which the kadi was administering justice. He listened very\ncarefully to what each had to say, and then pronounced his verdict.\nNeither of the two claimants had proved his right to the bracelet,\ntherefore it must remain in the possession of the judge till its\nfellow was brought before him.\n\nWhen they heard this, the Jew and the boy looked at each other, and\ntheir eyes said: 'Where are we to go to find the other one?' But as\nthey knew there was no use in disputing the decision, they bowed low\nand left the hall of audience.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWandering he knew not whither, the youth found himself on the\nsea-shore. At a little distance was a ship which had struck on a\nhidden rock, and was rapidly sinking, while on deck the crew were\ngathered, with faces white as death, shrieking and wringing their\nhands.\n\n'Have you met with fear?' shouted the boy. And the answer came above\nthe noise of the waves.\n\n'Oh, help! help! We are drowning!'\n\nThen the boy flung off his clothes, and swam to the ship, where many\nhands were held out to draw him on board.\n\n'The ship is tossed hither and thither, and will soon be sucked down,'\ncried the crew again. 'Death is very near, and we are frightened!'\n\n  [Illustration: THE SEA-MAIDEN WITH A WICKED FACE]\n\n'Give me a rope,' said the boy in reply, and he took it, and made it\nsafe round his body at one end, and to the mast at the other, and\nsprang into the sea. Down he went, down, down, down, till at last his\nfeet touched the bottom, and he stood up and looked about him. There,\nsure enough, a sea-maiden with a wicked face was tugging hard at a\nchain which she had fastened to the ship with a grappling iron, and\nwas dragging it bit by bit beneath the waves. Seizing her arms in both\nhis hands, he forced her to drop the chain, and the ship above\nremaining steady, the sailors were able gently to float her off the\nrock. Then taking a rusty knife from a heap of seaweed at his feet, he\ncut the rope round his waist and fastened the sea-maiden firmly to a\nstone, so that she could do no more mischief, and bidding her\nfarewell, he swam back to the beach, where his clothes were still\nlying.\n\nThe youth dressed himself quickly and walked on till he came to a\nbeautiful shady garden filled with flowers, and with a clear little\nstream running through. The day was hot, and he was tired, so he\nentered the gate, and seated himself under a clump of bushes covered\nwith sweet-smelling red blossoms, and it was not long before he fell\nasleep. Suddenly a rush of wings and a cool breeze awakened him, and\nraising his head cautiously, he saw three doves plunging into the\nstream. They splashed joyfully about, and shook themselves, and then\ndived to the bottom of a deep pool. When they appeared again they were\nno longer three doves, but three beautiful damsels, bearing between\nthem a table made of mother of pearl. On this they placed drinking\ncups fashioned from pink and green shells, and one of the maidens\nfilled a cup from a crystal goblet, and was raising it to her mouth,\nwhen her sister stopped her.\n\n'To whose health do you drink?' asked she.\n\n'To the youth who prepared the cake, and rapped my hand with the spoon\nwhen I stretched it out of the earth,' answered the maiden, 'and was\nnever afraid as other men were! But to whose health do you drink?'\n\n'To the youth on whose shoulders I climbed at the edge of the pool,\nand who threw me off with such a jerk, that I lay unconscious on the\nground for hours,' replied the second. 'But you, my sister,' added\nshe, turning to the third girl, 'to whom do you drink?'\n\n'Down in the sea I took hold of a ship and shook it and pulled it till\nit would soon have been lost,' said she. And as she spoke she looked\nquite different from what she had done with the chain in her hands,\nseeking to work mischief. 'But a youth came, and freed the ship and\nbound me to a rock. To his health I drink,' and they all three lifted\ntheir cups and drank silently.\n\nAs they put their cups down, the youth appeared before them.\n\n'Here am I, the youth whose health you have drunk; and now give me the\nbracelet that matches a jewelled band which of a surety fell from the\narm of one of you. A Jew tried to take it from me, but I would not let\nhim have it, and he dragged me before the kadi, who kept my bracelet\ntill I could show him its fellow. And I have been wandering hither and\nthither in search of it, and that is how I have found myself in such\nstrange places.'\n\n'Come with us, then,' said the maidens, and they led him down a\npassage into a hall, out of which opened many chambers, each one of\ngreater splendour than the last. From a shelf heaped up with gold and\njewels the eldest sister took a bracelet, which in every way was\nexactly like the one which was in the judge's keeping, and fastened it\nto the youth's arm.\n\n'Go at once and show this to the kadi,' said she, 'and he will give\nyou the fellow to it.'\n\n'I shall never forget you,' answered the youth, 'but it may be long\nbefore we meet again, for I shall never rest till I have found fear.'\nThen he went his way, and won the bracelet from the kadi. After this,\nhe again set forth in his quest of fear.\n\nOn and on walked the youth, but fear never crossed his path, and one\nday he entered a large town, where all the streets and squares were so\nfull of people, he could hardly pass between them.\n\n'Why are all these crowds gathered together?' he asked of a man who\nstood next him.\n\n'The ruler of this country is dead,' was the reply, 'and as he had no\nchildren, it is needful to choose a successor. Therefore each morning\none of the sacred pigeons is let loose from the tower yonder, and on\nwhomsoever the bird shall perch, that man is our king. In a few\nminutes the pigeon will fly. Wait and see what happens.'\n\nEvery eye was fixed on the tall tower which stood in the centre of the\nchief square, and the moment that the sun was seen to stand straight\nover it, a door was opened and a beautiful pigeon, gleaming with pink\nand grey, blue and green, came rushing through the air. Onward it\nflew, onward, onward, till at length it rested on the head of the boy.\nThen a great shout arose:\n\n'The king! the king!' but as he listened to the cries, a vision,\nswifter than lightning, flashed across his brain. He saw himself\nseated on a throne, spending his life trying, and never succeeding, to\nmake poor people rich; miserable people happy; bad people good; never\ndoing anything he wished to do, not able even to marry the girl that\nhe loved.\n\n'No! no!' he shrieked, hiding his face in his hands; but the crowds\nwho heard him thought he was overcome by the grandeur that awaited\nhim, and paid no heed.\n\n'Well, to make quite sure, let fly more pigeons,' said they, but each\npigeon followed where the first had led, and the cries arose louder\nthan ever:\n\n'The king! the king!' And as the young man heard, a cold shiver, that\nhe knew not the meaning of, ran through him.\n\n'This is fear whom you have so long sought,' whispered a voice, which\nseemed to reach his ears alone. And the youth bowed his head as the\nvision once more flashed before his eyes, and he accepted his doom,\nand made ready to pass his life with fear beside him.\n\n(Adapted from _Tuerkische Volksmaerchen_. Von Dr. Ignaz Kuenos. E. J.\nBrill, Leiden.)\n\n\n\n\n_HE WINS WHO WAITS_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there reigned a king who had an only daughter. The\ngirl had been spoiled by everybody from her birth, and, besides being\nbeautiful, was clever and wilful, and when she grew old enough to be\nmarried she refused to have anything to say to the prince whom her\nfather favoured, but declared she would choose a husband for herself.\nBy long experience the king knew that when once she had made up her\nmind, there was no use expecting her to change it, so he inquired\nmeekly what she wished him to do.\n\n'Summon all the young men in the kingdom to appear before me a month\nfrom to-day,' answered the princess; 'and the one to whom I shall give\nthis golden apple shall be my husband.'\n\n'But, my dear--' began the king, in tones of dismay.\n\n'The one to whom I shall give this golden apple shall be my husband,'\nrepeated the princess, in a louder voice than before. And the king\nunderstood the signal, and with a sigh proceeded to do her bidding.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe young men arrived--tall and short, dark and fair, rich and poor.\nThey stood in rows in the great courtyard in front of the palace, and\nthe princess, clad in robes of green, with a golden veil flowing\nbehind her, passed before them all, holding the apple. Once or twice\nshe stopped and hesitated, but in the end she always passed on, till\nshe came to a youth near the end of the last row. There was nothing\nspecially remarkable about him, the bystanders thought; nothing that\nwas likely to take a girl's fancy. A hundred others were handsomer,\nand all wore finer clothes; but he met the princess's eyes frankly and\nwith a smile, and she smiled too, and held out the apple.\n\n'There is some mistake,' cried the king, who had anxiously watched her\nprogress, and hoped that none of the candidates would please her. 'It\nis impossible that she can wish to marry the son of a poor widow, who\nhas not a farthing in the world! Tell her that I will not hear of it,\nand that she must go through the rows again and fix upon someone\nelse'; and the princess went through the rows a second and a third\ntime, and on each occasion she gave the apple to the widow's son.\n'Well, marry him if you will,' exclaimed the angry king; 'but at least\nyou shall not stay here.' And the princess answered nothing, but threw\nup her head, and taking the widow's son by the hand, they left the\ncastle.\n\nThat evening they were married, and after the ceremony went back to\nthe house of the bridegroom's mother, which, in the eyes of the\nprincess, did not look much bigger than a hen-coop.\n\nThe old woman was not at all pleased when her son entered bringing his\nbride with him.\n\n'As if we were not poor enough before,' grumbled she. 'I dare say this\nis some fine lady who can do nothing to earn her living.' But the\nprincess stroked her arm, and said softly:\n\n'Do not be vexed, dear mother; I am a famous spinner, and can sit at\nmy wheel all day without breaking a thread.'\n\n  [Illustration: THE PRINCESS CHOOSES]\n\nAnd she kept her word; but in spite of the efforts of all three, they\nbecame poorer and poorer; and at the end of six months it was agreed\nthat the husband should go to the neighbouring town to get work. Here\nhe met a merchant who was about to start on a long journey with a\ntrain of camels laden with goods of all sorts, and needed a man to\nhelp him. The widow's son begged that he would take him as a servant,\nand to this the merchant assented, giving him his whole year's salary\nbeforehand. The young man returned home with the news, and next day\nbade farewell to his mother and his wife, who were very sad at parting\nfrom him.\n\n'Do not forget me while you are absent,' whispered the princess as she\nflung her arms round his neck; 'and as you pass by the well which lies\nnear the city gate, stop and greet the old man you will find sitting\nthere. Kiss his hand, and then ask him what counsel he can give you\nfor your journey.'\n\nThen the youth set out, and when he reached the well where the old man\nwas sitting he asked the questions as his wife had bidden him.\n\n'My son,' replied the old man, 'you have done well to come to me, and\nin return remember three things: \"She whom the heart loves, is ever\nthe most beautiful.\" \"Patience is the first step on the road to\nhappiness.\" \"He wins who waits.\"'\n\nThe young man thanked him and went on his way. Next morning early the\ncaravan set out, and before sunset it had arrived at the first halting\nplace, round some wells, where another company of merchants had\nalready encamped. But no rain had fallen for a long while in that\nrocky country, and both men and beasts were parched with thirst. To be\nsure, there _was_ another well about half a mile away, where there was\nalways water; but to get it you had to be lowered deep down, and,\nbesides, no one who had ever descended that well had been known to\ncome back.\n\nHowever, till they could store some water in their bags of goat-skin,\nthe caravans dared not go further into the desert, and on the night of\nthe arrival of the widow's son and his master, the merchants had\ndecided to offer a large reward to anyone who was brave enough to go\ndown into the enchanted well and bring some up. Thus it happened that\nat sunrise the young man was aroused from his sleep by a herald making\nhis round of the camp, proclaiming that every merchant present would\ngive a thousand piastres to the man who would risk his life to bring\nwater for themselves and their camels.\n\nThe youth hesitated for a little while when he heard the proclamation.\nThe story of the well had spread far and wide, and long ago had\nreached his ears. The danger was great, he knew; but then, if he came\nback alive, he would be the possessor of eighty thousand piastres. He\nturned to the herald who was passing the tent:\n\n'_I_ will go,' said he.\n\n'What madness!' cried his master, who happened to be standing near.\n'You are too young to throw away your life like that. Run after the\nherald and tell him you take back your offer.' But the young man shook\nhis head, and the merchant saw that it was useless to try and persuade\nhim.\n\n'Well, it is your own affair,' he observed at last. 'If you must go,\nyou must. Only, if you ever return, I will give you a camel's load of\ngoods and my best mule besides.' And touching his turban in token of\nfarewell, he entered the tent.\n\nHardly had he done so than a crowd of men were seen pouring out of the\ncamp.\n\n'How can we thank you!' they exclaimed, pressing round the youth. 'Our\ncamels as well as ourselves are almost dead of thirst. See! here is\nthe rope we have brought to let you down.'\n\n'Come, then,' answered the youth. And they all set out.\n\nOn reaching the well, the rope was knotted securely under his arms, a\nbig goat-skin bottle was given him, and he was gently lowered to the\nbottom of the pit. Here a clear stream was bubbling over the rocks,\nand, stooping down, he was about to drink, when a huge Arab appeared\nbefore him, saying in a loud voice:\n\n'Come with me!'\n\nThe young man rose, never doubting that his last hour had come; but as\nhe could do nothing, he followed the Arab into a brilliantly lighted\nhall, on the further side of the little river. There his guide sat\ndown, and drawing towards him two boys, one black and the other white,\nhe said to the stranger:\n\n'I have a question to ask you. If you answer it right, your life shall\nbe spared. If not, your head will be forfeit, as the head of many\nanother has been before you. Tell me: which of my two children do I\nthink the handsomer.'\n\nThe question did not seem a hard one, for while the white boy was as\nbeautiful a child as ever was seen, his brother was ugly even for a\nnegro. But, just as the youth was going to speak, the old man's\ncounsel flashed into the youth's mind, and he replied hastily: 'The\none whom we love best is always the handsomest.'\n\n'You have saved me!' cried the Arab, rising quickly from his seat, and\npressing the young man in his arms. 'Ah! if you could only guess what\nI have suffered from the stupidity of all the people to whom I have\nput that question, and I was condemned by a wicked genius to remain\nhere until it was answered! But what brought you to this place, and\nhow can I reward you for what you have done for me?'\n\n'By helping me to draw enough water for my caravan of eighty merchants\nand their camels, who are dying for want of it,' replied the youth.\n\n'That is easily done,' said the Arab. 'Take these three apples, and\nwhen you have filled your skin, and are ready to be drawn up, lay one\nof them on the ground. Half-way to the earth, let fall another, and at\nthe top, drop the third. If you follow my directions no harm will\nhappen to you. And take, besides, these three pomegranates, green,\nred and white. One day you will find a use for them!'\n\nThe young man did as he was told, and stepped out on the rocky waste,\nwhere the merchants were anxiously awaiting him. Oh, how thirsty they\nall were! But even after the camels had drunk, the skin seemed as full\nas ever.\n\nFull of gratitude for their deliverance, the merchants pressed the\nmoney into his hands, while his own master bade him choose what goods\nhe liked, and a mule to carry them.\n\nSo the widow's son was rich at last, and when the merchant had sold\nhis merchandise, and returned home to his native city, his servant\nhired a man by whom he sent the money and the mule back to his wife.\n\n'I will send the pomegranates also,' thought he 'for if I leave them\nin my turban they may some day fall out,' and he drew them out of his\nturban. But the fruit had vanished, and in their places were three\nprecious stones, green, white and red.\n\nFor a long time he remained with the merchant, who gradually trusted\nhim with all his business, and gave him a large share of the money he\nmade. When his master died, the young man wished to return home, but\nthe widow begged him to stay and help her; and one day he awoke with a\nstart, to remember that twenty years had passed since he had gone\naway.\n\n'I want to see my wife,' he said next morning to his mistress. 'If at\nany time I can be of use to you, send a messenger to me; meanwhile, I\nhave told Hassan what to do.' And mounting a camel he set out.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow, soon after he had taken service with the merchant a little boy\nhad been born to him, and both the princess and the old woman toiled\nhard all day to get the baby food and clothing. When the money and the\npomegranates arrived there was no need for them to work any more, and\nthe princess saw at once that they were not fruit at all, but precious\nstones of great value. The old woman, however, not being accustomed,\nlike her daughter-in-law, to the sight of jewels, took them only for\ncommon fruit, and wished to give them to the child to eat. She was\nvery angry when the princess hastily took them from her and hid them\nin her dress, while she went to the market and bought the three finest\npomegranates she could find, which she handed the old woman for the\nlittle boy.\n\nThen she bought beautiful new clothes for all of them, and when they\nwere dressed they looked as fine as could be. Next, she took out one\nof the precious stones which her husband had sent her, and placed it\nin a small silver box. This she wrapped up in a handkerchief\nembroidered in gold, and filled the old woman's pockets with gold and\nsilver pieces.\n\n'Go, dear mother,' she said, 'to the palace, and present the jewel to\nthe king, and if he asks you what he can give you in return, tell him\nthat you want a paper, with his seal attached, proclaiming that no one\nis to meddle with anything you may choose to do. Before you leave the\npalace distribute the money amongst the servants.'\n\nThe old woman took the box and started for the palace. No one there\nhad ever seen a ruby of such beauty, and the most famous jeweller in\nthe town was summoned to declare its value. But all he could say was:\n\n'If a boy threw a stone into the air with all his might, and you could\npile up gold as high as the flight of the stone, it would not be\nsufficient to pay for this ruby.'\n\nAt these words the king's face fell. Having once seen the ruby he\ncould not bear to part with it, yet all the money in his treasury\nwould not be enough to buy it. So for a little while he remained\nsilent, wondering what offer he could make the old woman, and at last\nhe said:\n\n'If I cannot give you its worth in money, is there anything you will\ntake in exchange?'\n\n'A paper signed by your hand, and sealed with your seal, proclaiming\nthat I may do what I will, without let or hindrance,' answered she\npromptly. And the king, delighted to have obtained what he coveted at\nso small a cost, gave her the paper without delay. Then the old woman\ntook her leave and returned home.\n\nThe fame of this wonderful ruby soon spread far and wide, and envoys\narrived at the little house to know if there were more stones to sell.\nEach king was so anxious to gain possession of the treasure that he\nbade his messenger outbid all the rest, and so the princess sold the\ntwo remaining stones for a sum of money so large that if the gold\npieces had been spread out they would have reached from here to the\nmoon. The first thing she did was to build a palace by the side of the\ncottage, and it was raised on pillars of gold, in which were set great\ndiamonds, which blazed night and day. Of course the news of this\npalace was the first thing that reached the king her father, on his\nreturn from the wars, and he hurried to see it. In the doorway stood a\nyoung man of twenty, who was his grandson, though neither of them knew\nit, and so pleased was the king with the appearance of the youth, that\nhe carried him back to his own palace, and made him commander of the\nwhole army.\n\nNot long after this, the widow's son returned to his native land.\nThere, sure enough, was the tiny cottage where he had lived with his\nmother, but the gorgeous building beside it was quite new to him. What\nhad become of his wife and his mother, and who could be dwelling in\nthat other wonderful place. These were the first thoughts that flashed\nthrough his mind; but not wishing to betray himself by asking\nquestions of passing strangers, he climbed up into a tree that stood\nopposite the palace and watched.\n\n  [Illustration: BLIND RAGE FILLED THE HEART OF THE WATCHER]\n\nBy-and-by a lady came out, and began to gather some of the roses and\njessamine that hung about the porch. The twenty years that had passed\nsince he had last beheld her vanished in an instant, and he knew her\nto be his own wife, looking almost as young and beautiful as on the\nday of their parting. He was about to jump down from the tree and\nhasten to her side, when she was joined by a young man who placed his\narm affectionately round her neck. At this sight the angry husband\ndrew his bow, but before he could let fly the arrow, the counsel of\nthe wise man came back to him: 'Patience is the first step on the road\nto happiness.' And he laid it down again.\n\nAt this moment the princess turned, and drawing her companion's head\ndown to hers, kissed him on each cheek. A second time blind rage\nfilled the heart of the watcher, and he snatched up his bow from the\nbranch where it hung, when words, heard long since, seemed to sound in\nhis ears:\n\n'He wins who waits.' And the bow dropped to his side. Then, through\nthe silent air came the sound of the youth's voice:\n\n'Mother, can you tell me nothing about my father? Does he still live,\nand will he never return to us?'\n\n'Alas! my son, how can I answer you?' replied the lady. 'Twenty years\nhave passed since he left us to make his fortune, and, in that time,\nonly once have I heard aught of him. But what has brought him to your\nmind just now?'\n\n'Because last night I dreamed that he was here,' said the youth, 'and\nthen I remembered what I have so long forgotten, that I _had_ a\nfather, though even his very history was strange to me. And now, tell\nme, I pray you, all you can concerning him.'\n\nAnd standing under the jessamine, the son learnt his father's history,\nand the man in the tree listened also.\n\n'Oh,' exclaimed the youth, when it was ended, while he twisted his\nhands in pain, 'I am general-in-chief, you are the king's daughter,\nand we have the most splendid palace in the whole world, yet my father\nlives we know not where, and for all we can guess, may be poor and\nmiserable. To-morrow I will ask the king to give me soldiers, and I\nwill seek him over the whole earth till I find him.'\n\nThen the man came down from the tree, and clasped his wife and son in\nhis arms. All that night they talked, and when the sun rose it still\nfound them talking. But as soon as it was proper, he went up to the\npalace to pay his homage to the king, and to inform him of all that\nhad happened and who they all really were. The king was overjoyed to\nthink that his daughter, whom he had long since forgiven and sorely\nmissed, was living at his gates, and was, besides, the mother of the\nyouth who was so dear to him. 'It was written beforehand,' cried the\nmonarch. 'You are my son-in-law before the world, and shall be king\nafter me.'\n\nAnd the man bowed his head.\n\nHe had waited; and he had won.\n\n(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE STEEL CANE_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived an old woman who had a small cottage on\nthe edge of the forest. Behind the cottage was a garden in which all\nsorts of vegetables grew, and, beyond that, a field with two or three\ncows in it, so her neighbours considered her quite rich, and envied\nher greatly.\n\nAs long as she was strong enough to work all day in her garden the old\nwoman never felt lonely, but after a while she had a bad illness,\nwhich left her much weaker than before, and she began to think that\nnow and then it would be nice to have some one to speak to. Just at\nthis moment she heard of the death of a shepherd and his wife, who\ndwelt on the other side of the plain, leaving a little boy quite alone\nin the world.\n\n'That will just suit me,' she said; and sent a man over to bring the\nchild, whom she intended to adopt for her own.\n\nNow the boy, who was about twelve years old, ought to have considered\nhimself very lucky, for his new mother was as kind to him as the old\none. But, unfortunately, he made friends with some bad rude companions\nwhose tricks caused them to be a terror to everyone, and the poor old\nwoman never ceased regretting her lost solitude.\n\nThings went on in this way for some years, till the boy became a man.\n\n'Perhaps, if he were to be married he might sober down,' she thought\nto herself. And she inquired among the neighbours what girls there\nwere of an age to choose from. At length one was found, good and\nindustrious, as well as pretty; and as the young man raised no\nobjections the wedding took place at once, and the bride and\nbridegroom went to live in the cottage with the old woman. But no\nchange was to be seen in the husband's conduct. All day long he was\nout amusing himself in the company of his former friends, and if his\nwife dared to say anything to him on his return home he beat her with\nhis stick. And next year, when a baby was born to them, he beat it\nalso.\n\nAt length the old woman's patience was worn out. She saw that it was\nquite useless to expect the lazy, idle creature to mend his ways, and\none day she said to him:\n\n'Do you mean to go on like this for ever? Remember, you are no longer\na boy, and it is time that you left off behaving like one. Come, shake\noff your bad habits, and work for your wife and child, and above all,\nstop beating them. If not I will transform you into an ass, and heavy\nloads shall be piled on your back, and men shall ride you. Briars\nshall be your food, a goad shall prick you, and in your turn you shall\nknow how it feels to be beaten.'\n\nBut if she expected her words to do any good she soon found out her\nmistake, for the young man only grew angry and cried rudely:\n\n'Bah! hold your tongue or I will whip you also.'\n\n'_Will_ you?' she answered grimly: and, swift as lightning she picked\nup a steel cane that stood in the corner and laid it across his\nshoulders. In an instant his ears had grown long and his face longer,\nhis arms had become legs, and his body was covered with close grey\nhair. Truly, he was an ass; and a very ugly one, too!\n\n'Leave the house!' commanded the old woman. And, shambling awkwardly,\nhe went.\n\nAs he was standing in the path outside, not knowing what to do, a man\npassed by.\n\n'Ho! my fine fellow, you are exactly what I was looking for! You don't\nseem to have a master, so come with me. I will find something for you\nto do.' And taking him by the ear he led him from the cottage.\n\nFor seven years the ass led a hard life, just as the old woman had\nforetold. But instead of remembering that he had brought all his\nsuffering on himself, and being sorry for his evil ways, he grew\nharder, and more bitter. At the end of the seven years his ass skin\nwore out, and he became a man again, and one day returned to the\ncottage.\n\nHis wife opened the door in answer to his knock; then, letting fall\nthe latch, she ran inside, crying:\n\n'Grandmother! grandmother! your son has come back!'\n\n'I thought he would,' replied the old woman, going on with her\nspinning. 'Well, we could have done very well without him. But as he\nis here I suppose he must come in.'\n\nAnd come in he did. But as the old woman expected, he behaved still\nworse than before. For some weeks she allowed him to do what he liked;\nthen at last she said:\n\n'So experience has taught you nothing! After all, there are very few\npeople who have sense to learn by it. But take care lest I change you\ninto a wolf, to be a prey for dogs and men!'\n\n'You talk too much. I shall break your head for you!' was all the\nanswer she got.\n\nHad the young man looked at her face he might have taken warning, but\nhe was busy making a pipe, and took no notice. The next moment the\nsteel cane had touched his shoulders, and a big grey wolf bounded\nthrough the door.\n\nOh! what a yapping among the dogs, and what a shouting among the\nneighbours as they gave chase.\n\nFor seven years he led the life of a hunted animal, often cold and\nnearly always hungry, and never daring to allow himself a sound sleep.\nAt the end of that time his wolf skin wore out also, and again he\nappeared at the cottage door. But the second seven years had taught\nhim no more than the first--his conduct was worse than before; and one\nday he beat his wife and son so brutally that they screamed to the old\nwoman to come to their aid.\n\nShe did, and brought the steel cane with her. In a second the ruffian\nhad vanished, and a big black crow was flying about the room, crying\n'Gour! Gour!'\n\nThe window was open, and he darted through it; and seeking the\ncompanions who had ruined him, he managed to make them understand what\nhad happened.\n\n'We will avenge you,' said they; and taking up a rope, set out to\nstrangle the old woman.\n\nBut she was ready for them. One stroke of her cane and they were all\nchanged into a troop of black crows, and _this_ time their feathers\nare lasting still.\n\n(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE PUNISHMENT OF THE FAIRY GANGANA_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a king and queen who ruled over a country\nso small that you could easily walk round it in one day. They were\nboth very good, simple people; not very wise, perhaps, but anxious to\nbe kind to everybody; and this was often a mistake, for the king\nallowed all his subjects to talk at once, and offer advice upon the\ngovernment of the kingdom as well as upon private matters. And the end\nof it all was, that it was very difficult to get any laws made, and,\nstill more, to get anyone to obey them.\n\nNow, no traveller ever passed through the kingdom without inquiring\nhow it came to be so small. And this was the reason. As soon as\nPetaldo (for that was the king's name) had been born, his father and\nmother betrothed him to the niece of their friend the fairy\nGangana--if she should ever have one. But as the years passed on, and\nGangana was still without a niece, the young prince forgot all about\nhis destined bride, and when he was twenty-five he secretly married\nthe beautiful daughter of a rich farmer, with whom he had fallen\nviolently in love.\n\nWhen the fairy heard the news she fell into a violent rage, and\nhurried off to tell the king. The old man thought in his heart that\nhis son had waited quite long enough; but he did not dare to say so,\nlest some dreadful spell might be thrown over them all, and they\nshould be changed into birds or snakes, or, worst of all, into\nstones. So, much against his will, he was obliged to disinherit the\nyoung man, and to forbid him to come to court. Indeed, he would have\nbeen a beggar had it not been for the property his wife had had given\nher by the farmer, which the youth obtained permission to erect into a\nkingdom.\n\nMost princes would have been very angry at this treatment, especially\nas the old king soon died, and the queen was delighted to reign in his\nplace. But Petaldo was a contented young man, and was quite satisfied\nwith arranging his tiny court on the model of his father's, and having\na lord chamberlain, and a high steward and several gentlemen in\nattendance; while the young queen appointed her own ladies-in-waiting\nand maids of honour. He likewise set up a mint to coin money, and\nchose a seneschal as head of the five policemen who kept order in the\ncapital and punished the boys who were caught in the act of throwing\nstones at the palace windows.\n\nThe first to fill this important office was the young king's\nfather-in-law, an excellent man of the name of Caboche. He was much\nbeloved by everyone, and so sensible that he was not at all vain at\nrising at once to the dignity of seneschal, when he had only been a\ncommon farmer, but went about his fields every day as usual. This\nconduct so struck his king that very soon he never did anything\nwithout consulting him.\n\nEach morning Caboche and his son-in-law had breakfast together, and\nwhen they had finished, the king took out of his iron chest great\nbundles of state papers, which he desired to talk over with his\nseneschal. Sometimes they would spend two hours at least in deciding\nthese important matters, but more often after a few minutes Caboche\nwould say:\n\n'Excuse me, sire, but your majesty does not understand this affair in\nthe least. Leave it to me, and I will settle it.'\n\n'But what am I to do, then?' asked the king. And his minister\nanswered:\n\n'Oh, you can rule your wife, and see after your fruit garden. You will\nfind that those two things will take up all your time.'\n\n'Well, perhaps you are right,' the king replied; secretly glad to be\nrid of the cares of government. But though Caboche did all the work,\nPetaldo never failed to appear on grand occasions, in his royal mantle\nof red linen, holding a sceptre of gilded wood. Meanwhile he passed\nhis mornings in studying books, from which he learned the proper\nseasons to plant his fruit trees, and when they should be pruned; and\nhis afternoons in his garden, where he put his knowledge into\npractice. In the evening he played cards with his father-in-law, and\nsupped in public with the queen, and by ten o'clock everybody in the\npalace was fast asleep.\n\nThe queen, on her side, was quite as happy as her husband. She loved\nto be in her dairy, and nobody in the kingdom could make such\ndelicious cheeses. But however busy she might be, she never forgot to\nbake a little barley cake, and make a tiny cream cheese, and to put\nthem under a particular rose-tree in the garden. If you had asked her\nwhom they were for, and where they went to, she could not have told\nyou, but would have said that on the night of her marriage a fairy had\nappeared to her in a dream, and had bidden her to perform this\nceremony.\n\nAfter the king and the queen had six children, a little boy was born,\nwith a small red cap on his head, so that he was quite different from\nhis brothers and sisters, and his parents loved Cadichon better than\nany of them.\n\nThe years went on, and the children were growing big, when, one day,\nafter Gillette the queen had finished baking her cake, and had turned\nit out on a plate, a lovely blue mouse crept up the leg of the table\nand ran to the plate. Instead of chasing it away, as most women would\nhave done, the queen pretended not to notice what the mouse was\ndoing, and was much surprised to see the little creature pick up the\ncake and carry it off to the chimney. She sprang forwards to stop it,\nwhen, suddenly, both the mouse and cake vanished, and in their place\nstood an old woman only a foot high, whose clothes hung in rags about\nher. Taking up a sharp pointed iron stick, she drew on the earthen\nfloor some strange signs, uttering seven cries as she did so, and\nmurmuring something in a low voice, among which the queen was sure she\ncaught the words, 'faith,' 'wisdom,' 'happiness.' Then, seizing the\nkitchen broom, she whirled it three times round her head, and\nvanished. Immediately there arose a great noise in the next room, and\non opening the door, the queen beheld three large cockchafers, each\none with a princess between its feet, while the princes were seated on\nthe backs of three swallows. In the middle was a car formed of a\nsingle pink shell, and drawn by two robin redbreasts, and in this car\nCadichon was sitting by the side of the blue mouse, who was dressed in\na splendid mantle of black velvet fastened under her chin. Before the\nqueen had recovered from her surprise, cockchafers, redbreasts, mouse\nand children had all flown, singing, to the window, and disappeared\nfrom view.\n\nThe loud shrieks of the queen brought her husband and father running\ninto the room, and when at last they made out from her broken\nsentences what had really happened, they hastily snatched up some\nstout sticks that were lying about and set off to the rescue--one\ngoing in one direction and the other in another.\n\nFor at least an hour the queen sat sobbing where they had left her,\nwhen at last she was roused by a piece of folded paper falling at her\nfeet. She stooped and picked it up eagerly, hoping that it might\ncontain some news of her lost children. It was very short, but when\nshe had read the few words, Gillette was comforted, for it bade her\ntake heart, as they were well and happy under the protection of a\nfairy. 'On your own faith and prudence depend your happiness,' ended\nthe writer. 'It is I who have all these years eaten the food you\nplaced under the rose-tree, and some day I shall reward you for it.\n\"Everything comes to him who knows how to wait,\" is the advice given\nby,--The Fairy of the Fields.'\n\nThen the queen rose up, and bathed her face, and combed her shining\nhair; and as she turned away from her mirror she beheld a linnet\nsitting on her bed. No one would have known that it was anything but a\ncommon linnet, and yesterday the queen would have thought so too. But\nthis morning so many wonderful things had happened that she did not\ndoubt for a moment that the writer of the letter was before her.\n\n'Pretty linnet,' said she, 'I will try to do all you wish. Only give\nme, I pray you, now and then, news of my little Cadichon.'\n\nAnd the linnet flapped her wings and sang, and flew away. So the queen\nknew that she had guessed rightly, and thanked her in her heart.\n\nBy-and-by the king and his seneschal returned, hungry and tired with\ntheir fruitless search. They were amazed and rather angry to find the\nqueen, whom they had left weeping, quite cheerful. Could she _really_\ncare for her children so little and have forgotten them so soon? What\n_could_ have caused this sudden change? But to all their questions\nGillette would only answer: 'Everything comes to him who knows how to\nwait.'\n\n'That is true,' replied her father; 'and, after all, your majesty must\nremember that the revenues of your kingdom would hardly bear the cost\nof seven princes and princesses brought up according to their rank. Be\ngrateful, then, to those who have relieved you of the burden.'\n\n'You are right! You are always right!' cried the king, whose face once\nmore beamed with smiles. And life at the palace went on as before,\ntill Petaldo received a piece of news which disturbed him greatly.\n\nThe queen, his mother, who had for some time been a widow, suddenly\nmade up her mind to marry again, and her choice had fallen on the\nyoung king of the Green Isles, who was younger than her own son, and,\nbesides, handsome and fond of pleasure, which Petaldo was not. Now the\ngrandmother, foolish though she was in many respects, had the sense to\nsee that a woman as old and as plain as she was, could hardly expect a\nyoung man to fall in love with her, and that, if this was to happen,\nit would be needful to find some spell which would bring back her\nyouth and beauty. Of course, the fairy Gangana could have wrought the\nchange with one wave of her wand; but unluckily the two were no longer\nfriends, because the fairy had tried hard to persuade the queen to\ndeclare her niece heiress to the crown, which the queen refused to do.\nNaturally, therefore, it was no use asking the help of Gangana to\nenable the queen to take a second husband, who would be certain to\nsucceed her; and messengers were sent all over the neighbouring\nkingdoms, seeking to find a witch or a fairy who would work the\nwished-for miracle. None, however, could be found with sufficient\nskill, and at length the queen saw that if ever the king of the Green\nIsles was to be her husband she must throw herself on the mercy of the\nfairy Gangana.\n\nThe fairy's wrath was great when she heard the queen's story, but she\nknew very well that, as the king of the Green Isles had spent all his\nmoney, he would probably be ready to marry even an old woman, like her\nfriend, in order to get more. So, in order to gain time, she hid her\nfeelings, and told the queen that in three days the spell would be\naccomplished.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHer words made the queen so happy that twenty years seemed to fall\nfrom her at once, and she counted, not only the hours, but the\nminutes to the appointed time. It came at last, and the fairy stood\nbefore her in a long robe of pink and silver, held up by a tiny brown\ndwarf, who carried a small box under his arm. The queen received her\nwith all the marks of respect that she could think of, and at the\nrequest of Gangana, ordered the doors and windows of the great hall to\nbe closed, and her attendants to retire, so that she and her guest\nmight be quite alone. Then, opening the box, which was presented to\nher on one knee by the dwarf, the fairy took from it a small vellum\nbook with silver clasps, a wand that lengthened out as you touched it,\nand a crystal bottle filled with very clear green water. She next bade\nthe queen sit on a seat in the middle of the room, and the dwarf to\nstand opposite her, after which she stooped down and drew three\ncircles round them with a golden rod, touched each of them thrice with\nher wand, and sprinkled the liquid over both. Gradually the queen's\nbig features began to grow smaller and her face fresher, while at the\nsame time the dwarf became about twice as tall as he had been before.\nThis sight, added to the blue flames which sprang up from the three\ncircles, so frightened the queen that she fainted in her chair, and\nwhen she recovered, both the page and the fairy had vanished.\n\nAt first she felt vaguely puzzled, not remembering clearly what had\nhappened; then it all came back to her, and jumping up she ran to the\nnearest mirror. Oh! how happy she was! Her long nose and her\nprojecting teeth had become things of beauty, her hair was thick and\ncurly, and bright gold. The fairy had indeed fulfilled her promise!\nBut, in her hurry and pleasure, the queen never noticed that she had\nnot been changed into a beautiful young lady, but into a very tall\nlittle girl of eight or nine years old! Instead of her magnificent\nvelvet dress, edged with fur and embroidered in gold, she wore a\nstraight muslin frock, with a little lace apron, while her hair,\nwhich was always combed and twisted and fastened with diamond pins,\nhung in curls down her back. But if she had only known, something\nbesides this had befallen her, for except as regards her love for the\nking of the Green Isles, her mind as well as her face had become that\nof a child, and this her courtiers were aware of, if she was not. Of\ncourse they could not imagine what had occurred, and did not know how\nto behave themselves, till the chief minister set them the example by\nordering his wife and daughters to copy the queen's clothes and way of\nspeaking. Then, in a short time, the whole court, including the men,\ntalked and dressed like children, and played with dolls, or little tin\nsoldiers, while at the state dinners nothing was seen but iced fruits,\nor sweet cakes made in the shape of birds and horses. But whatever she\nmight be doing, the queen hardly ceased talking about the king of the\nGreen Isles, whom she always spoke of as 'my little husband,' and as\nweeks passed on, and he did not come, she began to get very cross and\nimpatient, so that her courtiers kept away from her as much as they\ncould. By this time, too, they were growing tired of pretending to be\nchildren, and whispered their intention of leaving the palace and\ntaking service under a neighbouring sovereign, when, one day, a loud\nblast of trumpets announced the arrival of the long-expected guest. In\nan instant all was smiles again, and in spite of the strictest rules\nof court etiquette, the queen insisted on receiving the young king at\nthe bottom of the stairs. Unfortunately, in her haste, she fell over\nher dress, and rolled down several steps, screaming like a child, from\nfright. She was not really much hurt, though she had scratched her\nnose and bruised her forehead, but she was obliged to be carried to\nher room and have her face bathed in cold water. Still, in spite of\nthis, she gave strict orders that the king should be brought to her\npresence the moment he entered the palace.\n\nA shrill blast outside her door sent a twinge of pain through the\nqueen's head, which by this time was aching badly; but in her joy at\nwelcoming her future husband she paid no heed to it. Between two lines\nof courtiers, bowing low, the young king advanced quickly; but at the\nsight of the queen and her bandages, broke out into such violent fits\nof laughter that he was forced to leave the room, and even the palace.\n\nWhen the queen had recovered from the vexation caused by the king's\nrude behaviour, she bade her attendants to hasten after him and fetch\nhim back, but no promises or entreaties would persuade him to return.\nThis of course made the queen's temper even worse than it was before,\nand a plot was set on foot to deprive her of the crown, which would\ncertainly have succeeded had not the fairy Gangana, who had only\nwished to prevent her marriage, restored her to her proper shape. But,\nfar from thanking her friend for this service, the sight of her old\nface in the mirror filled her with despair; and from that day she\nhated Gangana with a deadly hatred.\n\nAnd where were Petaldo's children all this while? Why, in the island\nof Bambini, where they had playfellows to their hearts' content, and\nplenty of fairies to take care of them all. But out of all the seven\nprinces and princesses whom the queen had seen carried off through the\nwindow, there was only Cadichon who was good and obedient; the other\nsix were so rude and quarrelsome that they could get no one to play\nwith them, and at last, as a punishment, the fairy changed them all\ninto marionettes, till they should learn to behave better.\n\nNow, in an unlucky moment, the Fairy of the Fields determined to visit\nher friend the queen of the fairies, who lived in a distant island, in\norder to consult her as to what was to become of Cadichon.\n\nAs she was entering the Hall of Audience, Gangana was leaving it, and\nsharp words were exchanged between them. After her enemy had flown off\nin a rage, the Fairy of the Fields poured out the whole story of\nGangana's wickedness to the queen, and implored her counsel.\n\n'Be comforted,' answered the fairy queen. 'For a while she must work\nher will, and at this moment she is carrying off Cadichon to the\nisland where she still holds her niece captive. But should she make an\nevil use of the power she has, her punishment will be swift and great.\nAnd now I will give you this precious phial. Guard it carefully, for\nthe liquid it contains will cause you to become invisible, and safe\nfrom the piercing eyes of all fairies. Against the eyes of mortals it\nhas no charm!'\n\nWith a heart somewhat lighter, the Fairy of the Fields returned to her\nown island, and, the better to protect the six new marionettes from\nthe wicked fairy, she sprinkled them with a few drops of the liquid,\nonly avoiding just the tips of their noses, so that she might be able\nto know them again. Then she set off for the kingdom of Petaldo, which\nshe found in a state of revolt, because for the first time since he\nhad ascended the throne he had dared to impose a tax. Indeed, matters\nmight have ended in a war, or in cutting off the king's head, had not\nthe fairy discovered a means of contenting everybody, and of\nwhispering anew to the queen that all was well with her children, for\nshe dared not tell her of the loss of Cadichon.\n\nAnd what had become of Cadichon? Well, the Fairy of the Fields had\nfound out--by means of her books, which had told her--that the poor\nlittle boy had been placed by Gangana in an enchanted island, round\nwhich flowed a rapid river, sweeping rocks and trees in its current.\nBesides the river, the island was guarded by twenty-four enormous\ndragons, breathing flames, and forming a rampart of fire which it\nseemed as if none could pass.\n\nThe Fairy of the Fields knew all this, but she had a brave heart, and\ndetermined that by some means or other she would overcome all\nobstacles, and rescue Cadichon from the power of Gangana. So, taking\nwith her the water of invisibility, she sprinkled it over her, and\nmounting her favourite winged lizard, set out for the island. When it\nappeared in sight she wrapped herself in her fireproof mantle; then,\nbidding the lizard return home, she slipped past the dragons and\nentered the island.\n\nScarcely had she done so than she beheld Gangana approaching her,\ntalking loudly and angrily to a genius who flew by her side. From what\nshe said, the fairy learned that Petaldo's mother, the old queen, had\ndied of rage on hearing of the marriage of the king of the Green Isles\nto a young and lovely bride, and instead of leaving her kingdom to\nGangana, had bequeathed it to one of the children of her son Petaldo.\n\n'But all the trouble I have had with that foolish old woman shall not\ngo for nothing,' cried Gangana. 'Go at once to my stables, and fetch\nout the strongest and swiftest griffins you can find in the stalls,\nand harness them to the yellow coach. Drive this, with all the speed\nyou may, to the Isle of Bambini, and carry off the six children of\nPetaldo that are still there. I will see to Petaldo and Gillette\nmyself. When I have got them all safe here I will change the parents\ninto rabbits and the children into dogs. As for Cadichon, I have not\nquite made up my mind what I shall do with him.'\n\nThe Fairy of the Fields did not wait to hear more. No time was to be\nlost in seeking the help of the fairy queen if Petaldo and his family\nwere to be saved from this dreadful doom. So, without waiting to\nsummon her lizard, she flew across the island and past the dragons\ntill her feet once more touched the ground again. But at that instant\na black cloud rolled over her, loud thunder rent the air, and the\nearth rocked beneath her. Then wild lightnings lit up the sky, and by\ntheir flashes she saw the four-and-twenty dragons fighting together,\nuttering shrieks and yells, till the whole earth must have heard the\nuproar. Trembling with terror, the fairy stood rooted to the spot; and\nwhen day broke, island, torrent, and dragons had vanished, and in\ntheir stead was a barren rock. On the summit of the rock stood a black\nostrich, and on its back were seated Cadichon, and the little niece of\nthe fairy Gangana, for whose sake she had committed so many evil\ndeeds. While the Fairy of the Fields was gazing in surprise at this\nstrange sight, the ostrich spread its wings and flew off in the\ndirection of the Fortunate Isle, and, followed unseen by the good\nfairy, entered the great hall where the queen was sitting on her\nthrone.\n\nProud and exultant was Gangana in her new shape, for, by all the laws\nof fairydom, if she succeeded in laying Cadichon at the feet of the\nqueen, and received him back from her, he was in her power for life,\nand she might do with him as she would. This the good fairy knew well,\nand pressed on with all her strength, for the dreadful events of the\nnight had almost exhausted her. But, with a mighty effort, she\nsnatched the children away from the back of the ostrich, and placed\nthem on the lap of the queen.\n\nWith a scream of baffled rage the ostrich turned away, and Gangana\nstood in her place, waiting for the doom which she had brought upon\nherself.\n\n'You have neglected all my warnings,' said the queen, speaking more\nsternly than any fairy had ever heard her; 'and my sentence is that\nduring two hundred years you lose all your privileges as a fairy, and\nunder the form of an ostrich shall become the slave of the lowest and\nwickedest of the genii whom you have made your friends. As for these\nchildren, I shall keep them with me, and they shall be brought up at\nmy court.'\n\nAnd so they were, until they grew up and were old enough to be\nmarried. Then the Fairy of the Fields took them back to the kingdom of\nthe old queen, where Petaldo was now reigning. But the cares of state\nproved too heavy both for him and Gillette, after the quiet life they\nhad led for so many years, and they were rejoiced to be able to lay\naside their crowns, and place them on the heads of Cadichon and his\nbride, who was as good as she was beautiful, though she _was_ the\nniece of the wicked Gangana! And so well had Cadichon learned the\nlessons taught him at the court of the fairy queen, that never since\nthe kingdom _was_ a kingdom had the people been so well governed or so\nhappy. And they went about the streets and the fields smiling with joy\nat the difference between the old times and the new, and whispering\nsoftly to each other:\n\n'Everything comes to him who knows how to wait.'\n\n(From _Le Cabinet des Fees_.)\n\n\n\n\n_THE SILENT PRINCESS_\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in Turkey a pasha who had only one son,\nand so dearly did he love this boy that he let him spend the whole day\namusing himself, instead of learning how to be useful like his\nfriends.\n\nNow the boy's favourite toy was a golden ball, and with this he would\nplay from morning till night, without troubling anybody. One day, as\nhe was sitting in the summer-house in the garden, making his ball run\nall along the walls and catching it again, he noticed an old woman\nwith an earthen pitcher coming to draw water from a well which stood\nin a corner of the garden. In a moment he had caught his ball and\nflung it straight at the pitcher, which fell to the ground in a\nthousand pieces. The old woman started with surprise, but said\nnothing; only turned round to fetch another pitcher, and as soon as\nshe had disappeared, the boy hurried out to pick up his ball.\n\nScarcely was he back in the summer-house when he beheld the old woman\na second time, approaching the well with the pitcher on her shoulder.\nShe had just taken hold of the handle to lower it into the water,\nwhen--crash! And the pitcher lay in fragments at her feet. Of course\nshe felt very angry, but for fear of the pasha she still held her\npeace, and spent her last pence in buying a fresh pitcher. But when\nthis also was broken by a blow from the ball, her wrath burst forth,\nand shaking her fist towards the summer-house where the boy was\nhiding, she cried:\n\n'I wish you may be punished by falling in love with the silent\nprincess.' And having said this she vanished.\n\nFor some time the boy paid no heed to her words--indeed he forgot\nthem altogether; but as years went by, and he began to think more\nabout things, the remembrance of the old woman's wish came back to his\nmind.\n\n'Who is the silent princess? And why should it be a punishment to fall\nin love with her?' he asked himself, and received no answer. However,\nthat did not prevent him from putting the question again and again,\ntill at length he grew so weak and ill that he could eat nothing, and\nin the end was forced to lie in bed altogether. His father the pasha\nbecame so frightened by this strange disease, that he sent for every\nphysician in the kingdom to cure him, but no one was able to find a\nremedy.\n\n'How did your illness first begin, my son?' asked the pasha one day.\n'Perhaps, if we knew that, we should also know better what to do for\nyou.'\n\nThen the youth told him what had happened all those years before, when\nhe was a little boy, and what the old woman had said to him.\n\n'Give me, I pray you,' he cried, when his tale was finished, 'give me,\nI pray you, leave to go into the world in search of the princess, and\nperhaps this evil state may cease.' And, sore though his heart was to\npart from his only son, the pasha felt that the young man would\ncertainly die if he remained at home any longer.\n\n'Go, and peace be with you,' he answered; and went out to call his\ntrusted steward, whom he ordered to accompany his young master.\n\nTheir preparations were soon made, and early one morning the two set\nout. But neither old man nor young had the slightest idea where they\nwere going, or what they were undertaking. First they lost their way\nin a dense forest, and from that they at length emerged in a\nwilderness where they wandered for six months, not seeing a living\ncreature and finding scarcely anything to eat or drink, till they\nbecame nothing but skin and bone, while their garments hung in\ntatters about them. They had forgotten all about the princess, and\ntheir only wish was to find themselves back in the palace again, when,\none day, they discovered that they were standing on the shoulder of a\nmountain. The stones beneath them shone as brightly as diamonds, and\nboth their hearts beat with joy at beholding a tiny old man\napproaching them. The sight awoke all manner of recollections; the\nnumb feeling that had taken possession of them fell away as if by\nmagic, and it was with glad voices that they greeted the new-comer.\n'Where are we, my friend?' asked they; and the old man told them that\nthis was the mountain where the sultan's daughter sat, covered by\nseven veils, and the shining of the stones was only the reflection of\nher own brilliance.\n\nOn hearing this news all the dangers and difficulties of their past\nwandering vanished from their minds.\n\n'How can I reach her soonest?' asked the youth eagerly. But the old\nman only answered:\n\n'Have patience, my son, yet awhile. Another six months must go by\nbefore you arrive at the palace where she dwells with the rest of the\nwomen. And, even so, think well, when you can, as should you fail to\nmake her speak, you will have to pay forfeit with your life, as others\nhave done. So beware!'\n\nBut the prince only laughed at this counsel--as others had also done.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter three months they found themselves on the top of another\nmountain, and the prince saw with surprise that its sides were\ncoloured a beautiful red. Perched on some cliffs, not far off, was a\nsmall village, and the prince proposed to his friend that they should\ngo and rest there. The villagers, on their part, welcomed them gladly,\nand gave them food to eat and beds to sleep on, and thankful indeed\nwere the two travellers to repose their weary limbs.\n\nThe next morning they asked their host if he could tell them whether\nthey were still many days' journey from the princess, and whether he\nknew why the mountain was so much redder than other mountains.\n\n'For three and a half more months you must still pursue your way,'\nanswered he, 'and by that time you will find yourselves at the gate of\nthe princess's palace. As for the colour of the mountain, that comes\nfrom the soft hue of her cheeks and mouth, which shines through the\nseven veils which cover her. But none have ever beheld her face, for\nshe sits there, uttering no word, though one hears whispers of many\nhaving lost their lives for her sake.'\n\nThe prince, however, would listen no further; and thanking the man for\nhis kindness, he jumped up and, with the steward, set out to climb the\nmountain.\n\nOn and on and on they went, sleeping under the trees or in caves, and\nliving upon berries and any fish they could catch in the rivers. But\nat length, when their clothes were nearly in rags and their legs so\ntired that they could hardly walk any further, they saw on the top of\nthe next mountain a palace of yellow marble.\n\n'There it is, at last,' cried the prince; and fresh blood seemed to\nspring in his veins. But as he and his companion began to climb\ntowards the top they paused in horror, for the ground was white with\ndead men's skulls. It was the prince who first recovered his voice,\nand he said to his friend, as carelessly as he could:\n\n'These must be the skulls of the men who tried to make the princess\nspeak and failed. Well, if we fail too, our bones will strew the\nground likewise.'\n\n'Oh! turn back now, my prince, while there is yet time,' entreated his\ncompanion. 'Your father gave you into my charge; but when we set out I\ndid not know that certain death lay before us.'\n\n'Take heart, O Lala, take heart!' answered the prince. 'A man can but\ndie once. And, besides, the princess will have to speak _some_ day,\nyou know.'\n\nSo they went on again, past skulls and dead men's bones in all\ndegrees of whiteness. And by-and-by they reached another village,\nwhere they determined to rest for a little while, so that their wits\nmight be fresh and bright for the task that lay before them. But this\ntime, though the people were kind and friendly, their faces were\ngloomy, and every now and then woeful cries would rend the air.\n\n'Oh! my brother, have I lost you?' 'Oh! my son, shall I see you no\nmore?' And then, as the prince and his companion asked the meaning of\nthese laments--which, indeed, was plain enough--the answer was given:\n\n'Ah, you also have come hither to die! This town belongs to the father\nof the princess, and when any rash man seeks to move the princess to\nspeech he must first obtain leave of the sultan. If that is granted\nhim he is then led into the presence of the princess. What happens\nafterwards, perhaps the sight of these bones may help you to guess.'\n\nThe young man bowed his head in token of thanks, and stood thoughtful\nfor a short time. Then, turning to the Lala, he said:\n\n'Well, our destiny will soon be decided! Meanwhile we will find out\nall we can, and do nothing rashly.'\n\nFor two or three days they wandered about the bazaars, keeping their\neyes and ears open, when, one morning, they met a man carrying a\nnightingale in a cage. The bird was singing so joyously that the\nprince stopped to listen, and at once offered to buy him from his\nowner.\n\n'Oh, why cumber yourself with such a useless thing,' cried the Lala in\ndisgust; 'have you not enough to occupy your hands and mind, without\ntaking an extra burden?' But the prince, who liked having his own way,\npaid no heed to him, and paying the high price asked by the man, he\ncarried the bird back to the inn, and hung him up in his chamber. That\nevening, as he was sitting alone, trying to think of something that\nwould make the princess talk, and failing altogether, the nightingale\npecked open her cage door, which was lightly fastened by a stick, and,\nperching on his shoulder, murmured softly in his ear:\n\n'What makes you so sad, my prince?' The young man started. In his\nnative country birds did not talk, and, like many people, he was\nalways rather afraid of what he did not understand. But in a moment he\nfelt ashamed of his folly, and explained that he had travelled for\nmore than a year, and over thousands of miles, to win the hand of the\nsultan's daughter. And now that he had reached his goal he could think\nof no plan to force her to speak.\n\n'Oh! do not trouble your head about that,' replied the bird, 'it is\nquite easy! Go this evening to the women's apartments, and take me\nwith you, and when you enter the princess's private chamber hide me\nunder the pedestal which supports the great golden candlestick. The\nprincess herself will be wrapped so thickly in her seven veils that\nshe can see nothing, neither can her face be seen by anyone. Then\ninquire after her health, but she will remain quite silent; and next\nsay that you are sorry to have disturbed her, and that you will have a\nlittle talk with the pedestal of the candlestick. When you speak I\nwill answer.'\n\nThe prince threw his mantle over the bird, and started for the palace,\nwhere he begged an audience of the sultan. This was soon granted him,\nand leaving the nightingale hidden by the mantle, in a dark corner\noutside the door, he walked up to the throne on which his highness was\nsitting, and bowed low before him.\n\n'What is your request?' asked the sultan, looking closely at the young\nman, who was tall and handsome; but when he heard the tale he shook\nhis head pityingly.\n\n'If you can make her speak she shall be your wife,' answered he; 'but\nif not--did you mark the skulls that strewed the mountain side?'\n\n'Some day a man is bound to break the spell, O sultan,' replied the\nyouth boldly; 'and why should not I be he as well as another? At any\nrate, my word is pledged, and I cannot draw back now.'\n\n'Well, go if you must,' said the sultan. And he bade his attendants\nlead the way to the chamber of the princess, but to allow the young\nman to enter alone.\n\nCatching up, unseen, his mantle and the cage as they passed into the\ndark corridor--for by this time night was coming on--the youth found\nhimself standing in a room bare except for a pile of silken cushions,\nand one tall golden candlestick. His heart beat high as he looked at\nthe cushions, and knew that, shrouded within the shining veils that\ncovered them, lay the much longed-for princess. Then, fearful that\nafter all other eyes might be watching him, he hastily placed the\nnightingale under the open pedestal on which the candlestick was\nresting, and turning again he steadied his voice, and besought the\nprincess to tell him of her well-being.\n\nNot by even a movement of her hand did the princess show that she had\nheard, and the young man, who of course expected this, went on to\nspeak of his travels and of the strange countries he had passed\nthrough; but not a sound broke the silence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n'I see clearly that you are interested in none of these things,' said\nhe at last, 'and as I have been forced to hold my peace for so many\nmonths, I feel that now I really _must_ talk to somebody, so I shall\ngo and address my conversation to the candlestick.' And with that he\ncrossed the room behind the princess, and cried: 'O fairest of\ncandlesticks, how are you?'\n\n'Very well indeed, my lord,' answered the nightingale; 'but I wonder\nhow many years have gone by since any one has spoken with me. And, now\nthat you have come, rest, I pray you, awhile, and listen to my story.'\n\n'Willingly,' replied the youth, curling himself up on the floor, for\nthere was no cushion for him to sit on.\n\n'Once upon a time,' began the nightingale, 'there lived a pasha whose\ndaughter was the most beautiful maiden in the whole kingdom. Suitors\nshe had in plenty, but she was not easy to please, and at length there\nwere only three whom she felt she could even _think_ of marrying. Not\nknowing which of the three she liked best, she took counsel with her\nfather, who summoned the young men into his presence, and then told\nthem that they must each of them learn some trade, and whichever of\nthem proved the cleverest at the end of six months should become the\nhusband of the princess.\n\n'Though the three suitors may have been secretly disappointed, they\ncould not help feeling that this test was quite fair, and left the\npalace together, talking as they went of what handicrafts they might\nset themselves to follow. The day was hot, and when they reached a\nspring that gushed out of the side of the mountain, they stopped to\ndrink and rest, and then one of them said:\n\n'\"It will be best that we should each seek our fortunes alone; so let\nus put our rings under this stone, and go our separate ways. And the\nfirst one who returns hither will take his ring, and the others will\ntake theirs. Thus we shall know whether we have all fulfilled the\ncommands of the pasha, or if some accident has befallen any of us.\"\n\n'\"Good,\" replied the other two. And three rings were placed in a\nlittle hole, and carefully covered again by the stone.\n\n'Then they parted, and for six months they knew naught of each other,\ntill, on the day appointed, they met at the spring. Right glad they\nall were, and eagerly they talked of what they had done, and how the\ntime had been spent.\n\n'\"I think I shall win the princess,\" said the eldest, with a laugh,\n\"for it is not everybody that is able to accomplish a whole year's\njourney in an hour!\"\n\n'\"That is very clever, certainly,\" answered his friend; \"but if you\nare to govern a kingdom it may be still more useful to have the power\nof seeing what is happening at a distance; and that is what _I_ have\nlearnt,\" replied the second.\n\n'\"No, no, my dear comrades,\" cried the third, \"your trades are all\nvery well; but when the pasha hears that I can bring back the dead to\nlife he will know which of us three is to be his son-in-law. But come,\nthere only remain a few hours of the six months he granted us. It is\ntime that we hastened back to the palace.\"\n\n'\"Stop a moment,\" said the second, \"it would be well to know what is\ngoing on in the palace.\" And plucking some small leaves from a tree\nnear by, he muttered some words and made some signs, and laid them on\nhis eyes. In an instant he turned pale, and uttered a cry.\n\n'\"What is it? What is it?\" exclaimed the others; and, with a shaking\nvoice, he gasped:\n\n'\"The princess is lying on her bed, and has barely a few minutes to\nlive. Oh! can no one save her?\"\n\n'\"_I_ can,\" answered the third, taking a small box from his turban;\n\"this ointment will cure any illness. But how to reach her in time?\"\n\n'\"Give it to me,\" said the first. And he wished himself by the bedside\nof the princess, which was surrounded by the sultan and his weeping\ncourtiers. Clearly there was not a second to lose, for the princess\nhad grown unconscious, and her face cold. Plunging his finger into the\nointment he touched her eyes, mouth and ears with the paste, and with\nbeating heart awaited the result.\n\n'It was swifter than he supposed. As he looked the colour came back\ninto her cheeks, and she smiled up at her father. The sultan, almost\nspeechless with joy at this sudden change, embraced his daughter\ntenderly, and then turned to the young man to whom he owed her life:\n\n'\"Are you not one of those three whom I sent forth to learn a trade\nsix months ago?\" asked he. And the young man answered yes, and that\nthe other two were even now on their way to the palace, so that the\nsultan might judge between them.'\n\nAt this point in his story the nightingale stopped, and asked the\nprince which of the three he thought had the best right to the\nprincess.\n\n  [Illustration: THE SILENT PRINCESS SPEAKS AT LAST]\n\n'The one who had learned how to prepare the ointment,' replied he.\n\n'But if it had not been for the man who could see what was happening\nat a distance they would never have known that the princess was ill,'\nsaid the nightingale. 'I would give it to _him_.' And the strife\nbetween them waxed hot, till, suddenly, the listening princess\nstarted up from her cushions and cried:\n\n'Oh, you fools! cannot you understand that if it had not been for him\nwho had power to reach the palace in time the ointment itself would\nhave been useless, for death would have claimed her? It is he and no\nother who ought to have the princess!'\n\nAt the first sound of the princess's voice, a slave, who was standing\nat the door, ran at full speed to tell the sultan of the miracle which\nhad taken place, and the delighted father hastened to the spot. But by\nthis time the princess perceived that she had fallen into a trap which\nhad been cunningly laid for her, and would not utter another word. All\nshe could be prevailed on to do was to make signs to her father that\nthe man who wished to be her husband must induce her to speak three\ntimes. And she smiled to herself beneath her seven veils as she\nthought of the impossibility of _that_.\n\nWhen the sultan told the prince that though he had succeeded once, he\nwould have twice to pass through the same test, the young man's face\nclouded over. It did not seem to him fair play, but he dared not\nobject, so he only bowed low, and contrived to step back close to the\nspot where the nightingale was hidden. As it was now quite dark he\ntucked unseen the little cage under his cloak, and left the palace.\n\n'Why are you so gloomy?' asked the nightingale, as soon as they were\nsafely outside. 'Everything has gone exactly right! Of course the\nprincess was very angry with herself for having spoken. And did you\nsee that, at her first words, the veils that covered her began to\nrend? Take me back to-morrow evening, and place me on the pillar by\nthe lattice. Fear nothing, you have only to trust to me!'\n\nThe next evening, towards sunset, the prince left the cage behind him,\nand with the bird in the folds of his garment slipped into the palace\nand made his way straight to the princess's apartments. He was at\nonce admitted by the slaves who guarded the door, and took care to\npass near the window so that the nightingale hopped unseen to the top\nof a pillar. Then he turned and bowed low to the princess, and asked\nher several questions; but, as before, she answered nothing, and,\nindeed, gave no sign that she heard. After a few minutes the young man\nbowed again, and crossing over to the window, he said:\n\n'Oh, pillar! it is no use speaking to the princess, she will not utter\none word; and as I must talk to somebody, I have come to you. Tell me\nhow you have been all this long while?'\n\n'I thank you,' replied a voice from the pillar, 'I am feeling very\nwell. And it is lucky for me that the princess is silent, or else you\nwould not have wanted to speak to me. To reward you, I will relate to\nyou an interesting tale that I lately overheard, and about which I\nshould like to have your opinion.'\n\n'That will be charming,' answered the prince, 'so pray begin at once.'\n\n'Once upon a time,' said the nightingale, 'there lived a woman who was\nso beautiful that every man who saw her fell in love with her. But she\nwas very hard to please, and refused to wed any of them, though she\nmanaged to keep friends with all. Years passed away in this manner,\nalmost without her noticing them, and one by one the young men grew\ntired of waiting, and sought wives who may have been less handsome,\nbut were also less proud, and at length only three of her former\nwooers remained--Baldschi, Jagdschi, and Firedschi. Still she held\nherself apart, thought herself better and lovelier than other women,\nwhen, on a certain evening, her eyes were opened at last to the truth.\nShe was sitting before her mirror, combing her curls, when amongst her\nraven locks she found a long white hair!\n\n'At this dreadful sight her heart gave a jump, and then stood still.\n\n'\"I am growing old,\" she said to herself, \"and if I do not choose a\nhusband soon, I shall never get one! I know that either of those men\nwould gladly marry me to-morrow, but I cannot decide between them. I\nmust invent some way to find out which of them is the best, and lose\nno time about it.\"\n\n'So instead of going to sleep, she thought all night long of different\nplans, and in the morning she arose and dressed herself.\n\n'\"That will have to do,\" she muttered as she pulled out the white hair\nwhich had cost her so much trouble. \"It is not very good, but I can\nthink of nothing better; and--well, they are none of them clever, and\nI dare say they will easily fall into the trap.\" Then she called her\nslave and bade her let Jagdschi know that she would be ready to\nreceive him in an hour's time. After that she went into the garden and\ndug a grave under a tree, by which she laid a white shroud.\n\n'Jagdschi was delighted to get the gracious message; and, putting on\nhis newest garments, he hastened to the lady's house, but great was\nhis dismay at finding her stretched on her cushions, weeping bitterly.\n\n'\"What is the matter, O Fair One?\" he asked, bowing low before her.\n\n'\"A terrible thing has happened,\" said she, her voice choked with\nsobs. \"My father died two nights ago, and I buried him in my garden.\nBut now I find that he was a wizard, and was not dead at all, for his\ngrave is empty and he is wandering about somewhere in the world.\"\n\n'\"That is evil news indeed,\" answered Jagdschi; \"but can I do nothing\nto comfort you?\"\n\n'\"There is one thing you can do,\" replied she, \"and that is to wrap\nyourself in the shroud and lay yourself in the grave. If he should not\nreturn till after three hours have elapsed he will have lost his power\nover me, and be forced to go and wander elsewhere.\"\n\n'Now Jagdschi was proud of the trust reposed in him, and wrapping\nhimself in the shroud, he stretched himself at full length in the\ngrave. After some time Baldschi arrived in his turn, and found the\nlady groaning and lamenting. She told him that her father had been a\nwizard, and that in case, as was very likely, he should wish to leave\nhis grave and come to work her evil, Baldschi was to take a stone and\nbe ready to crush in his head, if he showed signs of moving.\n\n'Baldschi, enchanted at being able to do his lady a service, picked up\na stone, and seated himself by the side of the grave wherein lay\nJagdschi.\n\n'Meanwhile the hour arrived in which Firedschi was accustomed to pay\nhis respects, and, as in the case of the other two, he discovered the\nlady overcome with grief. To him she said that a wizard who was an\nenemy of her father's had thrown the dead man out of his grave, and\nhad taken his place. \"But,\" she added, \"if you can bring the wizard\ninto my presence, all his power will go from him; if not, then I am\nlost.\"\n\n'\"Ah, lady, what is there that I would not do for you!\" cried\nFiredschi; and running down to the grave, he seized the astonished\nJagdschi by the waist, and flinging the body over his shoulder, he\nhastened with him into the house. At the first moment Baldschi was so\nsurprised at this turn of affairs, for which the lady had not prepared\nhim, that he sat still and did nothing. But by-and-by he sprang up and\nhurled the stone after the two flying figures, hoping that it might\nkill them both. Fortunately it touched neither, and soon all three\nwere in the presence of the lady. Then Jagdschi, thinking that he had\ndelivered her from the power of the wizard, slid off the back of\nFiredschi, and threw the shroud from him.'\n\n'Tell me, my prince,' said the nightingale, when he had finished his\nstory, 'which of the three men deserved to win the lady? I myself\nshould choose Firedschi.'\n\n'No, no,' answered the prince, who understood the wink the bird had\ngiven him; 'it was Baldschi who took the most trouble, and it was\ncertainly he who deserved the lady.'\n\nBut the nightingale would not agree; and they began to quarrel, till a\nthird voice broke in:\n\n'How can you talk such nonsense?' cried the princess--and as she spoke\na sound of tearing was heard. 'Why, you have never even thought of\nJagdschi, who lay for three hours in the grave, with a stone held over\nhis head! Of course it was _he_ whom the lady chose for her husband!'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was not many minutes before the news reached the sultan; but even\nnow he would not consent to the marriage till his daughter had spoken\na third time. On hearing this, the young man took counsel with the\nnightingale how best to accomplish this, and the bird told him that as\nthe princess, in her fury at having fallen into the snare laid for\nher, had ordered the pillar to be broken in pieces, he must be hidden\nin the folds of a curtain that hung by the door.\n\nThe following evening the prince entered the palace, and walked boldly\nup to the princess's apartments. As he entered the nightingale flew\nfrom under his arm and perched himself on top of the door, where he\nwas entirely concealed by the folds of the dark curtain. The young man\ntalked as usual to the princess without obtaining a single word in\nreply, and at length he left her lying under the heap of shining\nveils--now rent in many places--and crossed the room towards the door,\nfrom which came a voice that gladly answered him.\n\nFor a while the two talked together: then the nightingale asked if the\nprince was fond of stories, as he had lately heard one which\ninterested and perplexed him greatly. In reply, the prince begged that\nhe might hear it at once, and without further delay the nightingale\nbegan:\n\n  [Illustration: 'THE SEVEN VEILS FELL FROM HER']\n\n'Once upon a time, a carpenter, a tailor, and a student set out\ntogether to see the world. After wandering about for some months they\ngrew tired of travelling, and resolved to stay and rest in a small\ntown that took their fancy. So they hired a little house, and looked\nabout for work to do, returning at sunset to smoke their pipes and\ntalk over the events of the day.\n\n'One night in the middle of summer it was hotter than usual, and the\ncarpenter found himself unable to sleep. Instead of tossing about on\nhis cushions, making himself more uncomfortable than he was already,\nthe man wisely got up and drank some coffee and lit his long pipe.\nSuddenly his eye fell on some pieces of wood in a corner and, being\nvery clever with his fingers, he had soon set up a perfect statue of a\ngirl about fourteen years old. This so pleased and quieted him that he\ngrew quite drowsy, and going back to bed fell fast asleep.\n\n'But the carpenter was not the only person who lay awake that night.\nThunder was in the air, and the tailor became so restless that he\nthought he would go downstairs and cool his feet in the little\nfountain outside the garden door. To reach the door he had to pass\nthrough the room where the carpenter had sat and smoked, and against\nthe wall he beheld standing a beautiful girl. He stood speechless for\nan instant before he ventured to touch her hand, when, to his\namazement, he found that she was fashioned out of wood.\n\n'\"Ah! I can make you more beautiful still,\" said he. And fetching from\na shelf a roll of yellow silk which he had bought that day from a\nmerchant, he cut and draped and stitched, till at length a lovely robe\nclothed the slender figure. When this was finished, the restlessness\nhad departed from him, and he went back to bed.\n\n'As dawn approached the student arose and prepared to go to the mosque\nwith the first ray of sunlight. But, when he saw the maiden standing\nthere, he fell on his knees and lifted his hands in ecstasy.\n\n'\"Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air, clad in the beauty of ten\nthousand stars,\" he murmured to himself. \"Surely a form so rare was\nnever meant to live without a soul.\" And forthwith he prayed with all\nhis might that life should be breathed into it.\n\n'And his prayer was heard, and the beautiful statue became a living\ngirl, and the three men all fell in love with her, and each desired to\nhave her to wife.\n\n'Now,' said the nightingale, 'to which of them did the maiden really\nbelong? It seems to me that the carpenter had the best right to her.'\n\n'Oh, but the student would never have thought of praying that she\nmight be given a soul had not the tailor drawn attention to her\nloveliness by the robe which he put upon her,' answered the prince,\nwho guessed what he was expected to say: and they soon set up quite a\npretty quarrel. Suddenly the princess, furious that neither of them\nalluded to the part played by the student, quite forgot her vow of\nsilence and cried loudly:\n\n'Idiots that you are! how could she belong to any one but the student?\nIf it had not been for him, all that the others did would have gone\nfor nothing! Of course it was he who married the maiden!' And as she\nspoke the seven veils fell from her, and she stood up, the fairest\nprincess that the world has ever seen.\n\n'You have won me,' she said smiling, holding out her hand to the\nprince.\n\nAnd so they were married: and after the wedding-feast was over they\nsent for the old woman whose pitcher the prince had broken so long\nago, and she dwelt in the palace, and became nurse to their children,\nand lived happily till she died.\n\n(Adapted from _Tuerkische Volksmaerchen aus Stambul gesammelt, uebersetzt\nund eingeleitet_ von Dr. Ignaz Kuenos. Brill, Leiden.)\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nPunctuation errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made\nconsistent. Archaic spelling is preserved as printed.\n\nThe following typographic errors have been amended:\n\n    Page v--geni amended to genii--\"... present legends of\n    fairies, witches, genii or Djinn, ...\"\n\n    Page vi--Antony amended to Anthony--\"Anthony Hamilton\n    tried his hand with _The Ram_, a story too prolix and\n    confused, ...\"\n\n    Page 31--Gerthari amended to Grethari--\"... it boded ill\n    for Geirlaug and Grethari ...\" and \"... the beds of\n    Grethari and Geirlaug were empty.\"\n\n    Page 125--By-and-bye amended to By-and-by--\"By-and-by it\n    came to the ears of the Princess Kupti ...\"\n\n    Page 187--Centes amended to Contes--\"Adapted from\n    _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler, ...\"\n\n    Page 233--Louis amended to Frederic--\"From _Contes\n    Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.\"\n\n    Page 260--ancles amended to ankles--\"... the\n    robber-chief came out of the hole and seized her\n    ankles.\"\n\n    Page 275--Fra amended to From--\"From _Eventyr fra\n    Gylbauck samlede ..._\"\n\n    Page 275--Kri ensen amended to Kristensen--\"_... samlede\n    og optegnede af Evald Tang Kristensen_.\"\n\n    Page 336--Brilla amended to Brill--\"... von Dr. Ignaz\n    Kuenos. Brill, Leiden.\"\n\nAdvertising material and the frontispiece have been moved to follow the\ntitle page. Other illustrations have been moved where necessary so\nthat they are not in the middle of a paragraph.","title":"The Olive Fairy Book","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":93723}