{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31795/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31795","id":"gutenberg_31795","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31795","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                              YELLOW-CAP\n                               AND OTHER\n                              FAIRY TALES\n\n                                  BY\n\n                           JULIAN HAWTHORNE\n\n\n\n\n                              YELLOW-CAP\n                                  &c.\n\n\n\n\n                          LONDON: PRINTED BY\n                SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE\n                         AND PARLIAMENT STREET\n\n\n\n\n                              YELLOW-CAP\n                _AND OTHER FAIRY-STORIES FOR CHILDREN_\n\n                                  BY\n                           JULIAN HAWTHORNE\n\n\n                                LONDON\n                       LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.\n                                 1880\n\n                        _All rights reserved_\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n_YELLOW-CAP._\n\n  CHAPTER                                     PAGE\n     I. AN APPANAGE OF ROYALTY                   3\n    II. THE GOLDEN PLEDGE                       11\n   III. THE GOLDEN DWARF                        23\n    IV. THE TALISMAN                            35\n     V. THE KING'S FAVOUR                       43\n    VI. DONKEY-BACK                             51\n   VII. THE DARK PASSAGE                        57\n  VIII. THE MAGIC EYE                           65\n    IX. ON THE STAGE                            83\n     X. AN ABSOLUTE MONARCH                    102\n    XI. THE GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE         113\n\n\n_RUMPTY-DUDGET._\n\n     I. THE PALACE AND THE TOWER               129\n    II. THE AUNT, THE CAT, AND THE DWARF       134\n   III. THE WAYS OF THE WIND                   145\n    IV. NO TIME TO BE LOST                     154\n     V. THE QUEEN OF THE AIR                   161\n    VI. THE KING OF THE GNOMES                 170\n   VII. THE ENCHANTED FIRE                     179\n  VIII. THE GOLDEN IVY                         186\n\n\n_CALLADON._\n\n     I. ABRACADABRA                            197\n    II. THE LAW OF THE LAMP                    204\n   III. CALLIA AND THE MIRROR                  209\n    IV. THE OUTER ROOMS                        214\n     V. REGENERATION                           224\n\n\n_THEEDA._\n\n     I. THE BOOK AND THE VASE                  237\n    II. OSCAR INSIDE OUT                       243\n   III. THE PEARL-SHELL'S GIFT                 250\n    IV. THE CRAB                               260\n     V. A STRANGER                             267\n    VI. THE SECRET OF THE WAVES                279\n\n\n\n\nYELLOW-CAP.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nAN APPANAGE OF ROYALTY.\n\n\nA good many years ago--before Julius Caesar landed at Dover, in fact,\nand while the architect's plans for Stonehenge were still under\nconsideration--England was inhabited by a civilised and prosperous\npeople, who did not care about travelling, and who were renowned for\ntheir affability to strangers. The climate was warm and equable; there\nwere no fogs, no smoke, no railways, and no politics. The Government\nwas an absolute monarchy; one king, who was by birth and descent an\nEnglishman, lived in London all the year round; and as for London, it\nwas the cleanest, airiest, and most beautiful city in the whole world.\n\nA few miles outside of the city walls lay a small village called\nHoneymead. It had some fifteen or twenty thatched cottages, each with\nits vegetable garden and its beehives, its hencoop and its cowshed.\nAround this village fertile meadows spread down to the river banks,\nbringing forth plenteous crops for the support of the honest and\nthrifty husbandmen who tilled them. There was only one public-house in\nthe place, and the only drink to be had there was milk. A case of\ndrunkenness was, consequently, seldom heard of; though, on the other\nhand, women, girls, and even small children might be seen lingering\nabout the place as well as men.\n\nThis public-house was called the Brindled Cow, and it was kept by a\nyoung woman whose name was Rosamund. She was the prettiest maiden in\nthe village, as well as the most good-natured and the thriftiest;\nthough she had a keen tongue of her own when occasion demanded. As\nmight be supposed, all the young men in the neighbourhood were anxious\nto marry her; but she gave them little or no encouragement. She used\nto tell them that she was well able to take care of herself, so what\ngood would a husband be to her? She didn't want to support him, and\nshe didn't need his support. It was better as it was. As for falling\nin love, that was a thing she couldn't pretend to understand; but her\nmaiden aunt had once told her that it was more bother than it was\nworth, and she thought it very likely. Moreover, if by any accident\nshe should one day happen to fall in love, she would take great care\nthat it should not be suspected, because the man she loved would then\nbecome so puffed up with conceit there'd be no bearing him!\n\nSuch was Rosamund's declared opinion upon matrimony; and it caused\ngloom to dwell in the heart of many a love-sick swain. But (what was\nstrange) the more love-sick they grew the fatter and rosier they\nbecame. The reason probably was that they were for ever going to the\nBrindled Cow under pretence of being thirsty--but in reality to feast\ntheir eyes on Rosamund's lovely face; and since, thirsty or not, she\ninsisted upon their drinking, as long as they stayed, at the rate of a\npint of rich unskimmed milk every ten minutes, you will easily\nunderstand that it soon became possible to measure the ardour of their\naffection in pounds avoirdupois. So that by-and-by, when the elders of\nthe village would see their sons waxing great of girth and blowzy of\nvisage, they would shake their heads and murmur sadly--\n\n'Ah! poor lad, how healthy he's getting! 'Tis plain he's in love with\nMistress Rosamund!'\n\nThere was one young fellow, however, who was seldom seen among the\ntipplers at the Brindled Cow. He was a slender youth, rather pale,\nwith straight black eyebrows and large thoughtful eyes, which always\nseemed to be gazing at something far away. There was a romantic story\nabout him, which you shall hear. When he was a small child, only three\nyears old, his mother (who took in washing, and would be called a\nlaundress nowadays) was up to her elbows one Tuesday afternoon in\nsoapsuds and shirts; and Raymond--that was the child's name--was\nsitting beside the washing-tub, blowing soap-bubbles. All of a sudden\nthe tramp of a horse was heard in the street without, and the woman,\nlooking up from her scrubbing-board had a glimpse through the window\nof a magnificent horseman, in silk and velvet, with rosettes on his\nshoulders, and wearing a gold cap with a tall peacock's feather in it.\nHe got off his horse; and in another moment he had opened the cottage\ndoor and walked into the washing-room.\n\nThe poor woman was at first vastly frightened, for she thought this\nmust be the King, and that he was going to cut off her head because\nshe used chemicals in her washing--though she had never done such a\nthing except when she was very much pressed for time, or when the\nwater was so hard that the soap would not make suds. However, like a\nwise woman as she was, she made up her mind not to ask for mercy until\nshe had heard her accusation; so she dropped half a dozen curtseys,\nand begged to know what his Gracious Royal Majesty's Highness wanted.\n\nMeanwhile, the little boy, from his seat beside the wash-tub, stared\nand stared at the magnificent stranger, and was sure he never could\nstare at him enough. The stranger was tall, thin, and as straight as a\nhop-pole; had a huge aquiline nose, with a pair of long moustachios\njutting out beneath it and curling up to his eyes; and on his chin was\na sharp-pointed beard. The steam from the wash-tub filled the little\nroom and swam in misty clouds round this singular figure; while the\nlast soap-bubble which the little boy had blown from his pipe rose in\nthe air and circled round and round the yellow cap like a planet\nround the sun. Altogether he looked like an Eastern genie in an\nEnglish court-dress--an uncommon sight in the times I write of.\n\nThis personage now made two profound obeisances, one to the\nwasherwoman and one to the little boy. This done, he threw back his\nsilk-lined cloak, and taking from the pocket of his doublet a bundle\nof something done up in gold paper, he opened his mouth and said--\n\n'O yez! O yez! O yez! Whereas his Transparent Majesty King Ormund,\nEmperor of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith,\nand so forth, and so forth, did, while riding through this village\ncalled Honeymead, splash with mud his left Transparent stocking: now,\ntherefore, O washerwoman, it is his gracious will and pleasure that\nyou do hereby wash the same, with all due and proper diligence and\ndespatch, and with the smallest possible amount of unnecessary\nprocrastination. Long live his Transparency King Ormund!'\n\nIn fact, the gold paper contained a fine pink silk stocking, with\nembroidered clocks, a hole in the toe, and seven spots of mud\nspattered over it. The washerwoman had understood very little of the\nspeech, but she could see that the stocking needed washing; so without\nmore ado she plunged it into the soapsuds, and in five minutes it was\nas clean as the day it came out of the shop, and was dried before the\nfire. All this time the stranger had stood bolt upright in the centre\nof the little room, swathed in the steam, and with the soap-bubble\nstill revolving round his head like a planet; and the little boy still\nstared up at him, as if he never could stare enough.\n\nWhen the stocking was quite dry the washerwoman rolled it up again in\nthe gold paper and gave it to the stranger, who put it back in the\npocket of his doublet. Then he took from the purse that hung at his\nbelt a new spade guinea, gave it a fillip into the air, and down it\nfell in the little boy's lap. Then, with a third profound obeisance,\nhe made a long step back towards the door.\n\nUp jumped the little boy in a great hurry and excitement.\n\n'If you please, sir,' he cried out, 'who are you?'\n\nThe stranger stopped; and as the steam from the wash-tub wound around\nhim more and more, and the soap-bubble burst on the bridge of his\naquiline nose, he replied--\n\n'Little boy, I am an Appanage of Royalty!'\n\n'Please will you give me your yellow cap?' asked Raymond again.\n\n'Not to-day,' said the Appanage of Royalty, with a queer smile.\n\n'To-morrow, then?' demanded Raymond.\n\n'Some day--perhaps!' the other replied, still with that queer smile.\nAnd then he disappeared; but whether he dissolved into steam, or\nexploded like a soap-bubble, or went out by the door in the regular\nway, the little boy could never be quite sure. It was enough for him\nthat an Appanage of Royalty had said that some day, perhaps, he would\ngive him his gold cap. And Raymond never forgot this adventure; and\nas a kind of pledge of its reality he ever afterwards wore the spade\nguinea round his neck by a silken string. He believed that sooner or\nlater it would be the means of bringing him fame and greatness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE GOLDEN PLEDGE.\n\n\nOne fine May morning, while Rosamund was churning in the dairy-room of\nthe Brindled Cow, she heard some one walk into the bar. The step was\nnot that of any one of her familiar suitors. It was neither short\nplump Armand, nor tall bulky Osmund, nor red-haired broad-cheeked\nPhillimund, nor short-legged thick-necked Sigismund, who drank six\nquarts of milk last Saturday; nor short-breathed apoplectic Dorimund,\nwho sang sentimental songs with a voice like a year-old heifer's.\nNo, none of these had a step like this step--sauntering, light, and\nmeditative. Nevertheless, it was a step which Rosamund loved to hear.\n\nShe stopped churning, and moved softly to where a brightly-polished\ntin pan was set up on the shelf. It was Rosamund's looking-glass.\nBefore this she smoothed her rumpled hair, straightened the pink bow\nat her throat, and snatched off her dirty apron. She was provoked to\nsee how red the churning had made her cheeks, and she wished she were\npaler; but the wish only seemed to make her rosier than before. She\ntold herself that she was a coarse-looking ugly girl; and yet when,\nonly that morning, Dorimund had told her that she was as beautiful\nas a fairy, she had taken it quite as a matter of course. It was\ntiresome--the way people could grow ugly all in a moment--and in the\nwrong moment too!\n\nAll this happened during the two or three minutes after the\nlight-stepping visitor had come into the bar; and now this person\ntapped twice or thrice on the counter. Rosamund, on hearing the tap,\nbegan to hum a little song, in an unconcerned sort of way, and walked\nup and down the dairy a few times, as if she were putting things in\norder; and when, at last, she came out to the bar, it was with the air\nof a very busy young woman, who does not like to be disturbed at her\nchurning.\n\n'Oh, is it you?' she said to the person who was leaning on the\ncounter. 'How do you do? I hope you're thirsty?'\n\nThe person smiled. He was a handsome young fellow, with dark hair and\na pale face, and he looked at Rosamund with a pair of thoughtful eyes.\nHis dress was plain and rather the worse for wear; but round his neck\na bright spade guinea was hung by a silken string. It did not seem\ndifferent from any other spade guinea, yet there must have been\nsomething peculiar about it. For it gave a kind of dignity to the\nyoung man's aspect, so that if you fixed your eyes upon the coin you\nforgot the wearer's shabbiness, and almost fancied him to be a noble\nand opulent personage. Whether the owner were aware of this or not is\nanother question; but, as a general thing, young people seldom know\nwhat it is about them that makes them attractive.\n\n'I hope you are thirsty?' Rosamund repeated, in a business-like tone,\nas she leaned against the other side of the counter, and looked up at\nthe young man with her lovely blue eyes.\n\n'I am not thirsty, Rosamund,' he replied, 'but I am tired.'\n\n'I've always heard that doing nothing was tiresome. Perhaps you'd like\nto take a chair and sit down? I really must go on with my churning.'\n\n'It isn't that kind of tired that I mean,' said he; 'but if you'll let\nme sit down in the dairy I don't mind.' Rosamund made no objection, so\nhe vaulted over the counter and they went into the dairy together.\n'I'm so tired waiting!' he added, with a sigh.\n\n'And what are you waiting for, may I ask?'\n\n'For something great to happen!'\n\n'Oh! Then why don't you make it happen?'\n\n'I wish I could!' sighed the young man.\n\nRosamund tied her apron on again, and laid hold of the churn-handle.\n\n'What do you call great?' she asked, beginning to work it up and down.\n\nThe young man took his gold coin meditatively between his thumb and\nforefinger and twisted it on its silken string.\n\n'Greatness is everything that I have not, and want to have,' he said.\n\n'Such as what?'\n\n'Oh, power and wealth, and to be above other men, and to have them\nlook up to me and obey me. That is greatness.'\n\n'Pooh!' exclaimed Rosamund, working her churn vigorously. 'I shouldn't\ncare about such greatness as that.'\n\n'Not care about it, Rosamund?'\n\n'Not so much as a pat of butter, Raymond. What do you want of wealth?\nAre you hungry, pray, or thirsty? I will give you as much of the best\nmilk, fresh from the cow, as you can drink; and all the wealth in the\nworld couldn't help you to drink more. As for power--however high it\nbrought you, it couldn't make you yourself higher by so much as a\nsingle inch: you would still be the same Raymond you are now, even if\nyou were an emperor--yes, or that Appanage of Royalty you've been\nthinking and talking about all these dozen years or more. Why do you\nwant people to look up to you and obey you, I should like to know?\nCan't you see that it's not you they would look up to, but your ermine\nrobe and silk stockings----'\n\n'Ah! my mother once washed one of the King's silk stockings--the left\none,' murmured Raymond; 'and the Appanage of Royalty said that some\nday, perhaps, he would give me his yellow cap----'\n\n'And golden crown,' continued Rosamund, not noticing the interruption.\n'You silly boy! they would obey the crown, not you, though you might\nhappen to be wearing it. If you think it would be yourself they cared\nfor, just go to London as you are now and order them about! But if I\nwere you I'd rather be truly loved by one--person than be obeyed by\none hundred thousand.'\n\n'But if you were I, Rosamund, you'd be a man; and men are different.'\n\n'So it seems.'\n\n'What a noise that churn makes! Rosamund, I've felt all my life long\nthat I was destined to be great. Why else did my mother wash the\nKing's stocking; or the Appanage of Royalty promise me the cap?'\n\n'You've been dreaming, you silly boy!'\n\n'But can a dream that I've been dreaming all my life fail to come\ntrue? I don't say that to sit on a throne and rule a kingdom would be\nthe happiest lot in the world; but, just as an experience, it would be\ngood fun; and if one is predestined to it, you know----Besides----'\n\n'Well, your majesty--besides what?'\n\n'Well, for instance, how would you like to be a queen?'\n\nRosamund stopped churning, wiped her hands on her apron, and tossed up\nher pretty chin with a saucy air.\n\n'A queen, indeed! I beg to inform you, Master Raymond, that I am a\nqueen already, and I have reigned longer and more despotically than\never you will, I fancy. Pray, has the Queen of England any subjects\nmore devoted to her than my Osmund and Dorimund and Phillimund and\nSigismund and Armand, and twenty others, are to me? Honeymead is my\nkingdom, and I do really reign, because my power is in myself; and\nfifty giants to march before me, and a hundred dwarfs to carry my\ntrain, wouldn't make me a bit more of a queen than I am now. So--thank\nyou for nothing, Master Raymond!'\n\nRaymond sat erect, with a great deal more animation in his look than\nhe had yet shown.\n\n'Listen to me, Rosamund,' he cried. 'It is true you are Queen of\nHoneymead. But what is Honeymead compared with London? And why should\nnot you be as much a queen in London as you are here? You would be\nnone the worse for a crown, and dwarfs and giants, though you might\nnot need them: because no man could look at you and not be your\nfaithful subject ever afterwards. And--Rosamund----'\n\nHe hesitated, and his cheeks were quite red. Rosamund glanced up at\nhim and thought, 'How handsome he is!'\n\n'Rosamund, I ask you this: if I become king will you sit beside me on\nthe throne, and rule over Great Britain, France, and Ireland?'\n\nRosamund looked very grave.\n\n'Do you mean to ask me to be your wife, Raymond?' she asked.\n\n'I would have asked you long before, dearest Rosamund, but I waited\nhoping to be able to offer you a kingdom along with my love.'\n\n'Well, it is a very kind offer,' said she, with a little smile and a\nsigh, 'and I thank you. But I must say no.'\n\n'Rosamund!'\n\n'If I were your wife I should have no time to attend to the duties of\nthe Court; and if I were your queen I should have no time to attend to\nyou. And I am so jealous that I could not let you neglect me for your\nkingdom; and yet I'm so ambitious that I couldn't let you neglect your\nkingdom for me. So it would not do either way; and, if you please, we\nwon't talk any more about it.'\n\nBut as she said this her voice trembled, and tears were in her eyes.\nThen Raymond's heart overflowed with tenderness, and he went to her\nand took her hand.\n\n'I could not be happy on a throne without you, Rosamund,' said he;\n'but I could be happy, if you would marry me, without a throne.'\n\nAnd because it cost him a good deal to make this sacrifice (even of\nsomething he had not got) his voice trembled a little too.\n\nWhen Rosamund heard that she could resist no longer. She smiled such a\nsmile as Dorimund and the rest would have given their farms to win\nfrom her; and said she--\n\n'Oh, Raymond! I am a greater queen in having your love than----'\n\nAnd then Raymond kissed her just on the place that the next word was\ncoming out of, so the rest of the sentence was lost.\n\n'But are you quite sure, dear Raymond, that you will be content to\nlive here always?' she asked, when they had had a little more\nconversation of this kind.\n\nRaymond smiled down on her, but he said nothing. Perhaps, in his\nsecret heart, he was thinking that Destiny (which had appeared to him\nin the shape of the Appanage of Royalty so long ago) might still have\nsome splendid gift in store for him and Rosamund, whereof the yellow\ncap would be but the symbol. And, if so, it would be foolish in them\nto bind themselves beforehand not to take advantage of it. So Raymond\nsmiled at Rosamund in a way to show that, at all events, he loved her.\nAnd he did love her, no doubt.\n\n'Poor boy!' said Rosamund, after another pause, smiling back rather\nmischievously, 'to think that you have been wearing this spade guinea\nall these years, and it has brought you nothing better than me at\nlast!'\n\n'If guineas could buy girls like you, my dear,' replied Raymond, 'the\nMint would be kept working day and night. But I'll tell you what use\nwe will make of this--we'll chop it in two, and each of us will wear\na half, in token that we belong to one another. And then, no matter\nhow long we may be separated, or what changes come over us, we should\nalways recognise each other by these bits of gold.'\n\n'But you don't think that changes will come over us, or that we shall\nbe separated, Raymond?'\n\n'Certainly not; but we may as well be on the safe side. For instance,\nif I were to go out and meet with an enchanter, and he were to turn me\ninto a dwarf, and then I were to come back to you, how would you know\nme except by my half of the guinea?'\n\n'I should trust my heart for that,' said Rosamund, softly. 'Still, we\nwill wear the halves, so that everyone may see that we are but half\nourselves when we are not together.'\n\nThis being settled, Rosamund fetched a hatchet, and Raymond put the\nguinea on a stool, and, with one strong blow, made it fly into two\nexact halves. Then he drilled a hole through Rosamund's half, and hung\nit round her neck by a piece of pink ribbon; and as for his own half,\nhe strung it on the silken cord that he had always worn. So their\nbetrothal was confirmed.\n\nJust at this moment half a dozen of Rosamund's old suitors came\ntrooping into the bar, and began calling for milk like a herd of\ncalves. Then the lovers looked in each other's faces and smiled, and\nbade each other farewell very tenderly. Raymond went out through the\ncowyard; and Rosamund returned to the bar, where she served out fresh\nmilk and thought about the half-guinea that was hidden in her bosom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE GOLDEN DWARF.\n\n\nRaymond strolled away towards the river. He wanted to think it all\nover. His betrothal was a sort of surprise to him. He had loved\nRosamund, in a meditative way, so long that he had got used to not\nexpecting anything more; but now, on the spur of the moment, he had\ntold his love and received the pledge of hers, and it was all settled.\nHe was happy, of course, for he believed Rosamund to be the prettiest\nand the best girl in the world. Still, he did not wish quite to give\nup the hope that something might happen to make their life more\nsplendid. He said to himself that it was only for Rosamund's sake he\nhoped this. Perhaps that was the reason he hoped it so much.\n\nThe path down to the river was narrow and winding; it lay between\nhawthorn hedges white with blossoms. It ended at the ford, where\nwillow trees bowed down over the current. One of these trees had been\ncut down on the day Raymond was born. The stump made a sort of chair,\nin which Raymond had spent many a summer hour, musing over the flowing\nwater, or lifting his eyes to gaze thoughtfully at the distant city.\nHe called the willow-stump his throne; and in the stream that hurried\nbeneath he imagined he saw the march of mighty nations passing before\nhis feet to do him homage. To-day all such imaginations must end; and\nit was more habit than anything else that had brought him to the spot.\nHe did not come, as formerly, half in fear and half in delight, hoping\nto meet with some beneficent fairy or other, who would grant him the\nthree wishes which all fairies have in their gift. No; he came to take\na last look at that world of dreams in which he had lived from\nchildhood, and to make up his mind to living henceforth in the\nmatter-of-fact world which common people inhabited.\n\nIt was afternoon when he came to the willow-stump throne and sat down\nupon it. The sky was thronged with stately clouds--phantom mountains,\nwith castles on their tops--castles wherein Raymond's fancy had often\ndwelt. The air was soft and warm, sweet with fragrance of lilac and\napple-blossoms, and bright with bird-songs. The bending willows swept\nthe river surface with slender green ringers, startling the trout and\ngrayling that quivered and darted in the pools and shallows. Life and\nbeauty and happiness were everywhere; and far to the eastward, piled\nhigh against the horizon, rose the white marble walls and towers of\nmighty London. They looked less real than the clouds. Sunlight\nsparkled on the gilded domes, and cast afar the tender purple shadows\nof royal palaces. And amidst green meadow-banks, and past gleaming\nwharves populous with delicate masts and rainbow sails, swept the\nazure curves of the translucent Thames towards the fair city. London\nwas, indeed, at this time, the most magnificent city in the world; and\nCamelot, which was built hundreds of years afterwards, was never\nanything to compare with it. What wonder, then, if Raymond eyed its\ndistant splendours with some regret, remembering that they were lost\nto him for ever?\n\n'But I have Rosamund,' he murmured to himself.\n\n'So much the more fool you!' spoke a metallic voice close behind him.\n\nRaymond looked round. Whence had come that grotesque figure which was\nstanding within a couple of yards of him, and which gazed at him with\nan expression at once so quizzical and so penetrating? Had he ever\nseen it before? No--and yet--had he?\n\nThe figure was that of a man about three feet high, with a body shaped\nlike a sack of potatoes, supported by short and crooked legs that bent\nbeneath its weight. The arms were so long that the hands (like great\ncurved claws) hung down nearly to the ground; and the fingers made a\ncontinual movement as if clutching something. The head of this\ncreature was large, and had no neck; the nose was aquiline, the eyes\nbright and sharp. On the chin was a pointed beard, and a pair of long\nmoustachios curled up over the cheekbones. The creature was dressed in\nrich and costly clothes, which, however, bore an unaccountable\nresemblance to Raymond's own threadbare attire. On the head was a\nyellow cap, apparently made of woven gold, which glowed and sparkled\nin the sunlight. Certainly there was something familiar about that cap\nand those moustachios!\n\n'Where did you come from?' Raymond asked.\n\n'I was here before you,' replied the dwarf.\n\n'I saw no one.'\n\n'People do overlook me sometimes,' rejoined the other, with a chuckle;\n'but they are more apt to spend their lives in trying to find me. Once\nin a great while I appear without being asked--as I do now!'\n\n'Where have I seen you before?'\n\n'Ask yourself.'\n\n'Who are you?'\n\nThe dwarf made a low bow. 'I am an Appanage of Royalty!' said he.\n\n'Then it was you who brought the King's silk stocking to be washed!\nBut were you not a great deal taller then than now?'\n\n'What of that? Were not you a great deal shorter?'\n\n'That is true,' murmured Raymond, struck by the justness of the\nremark.\n\n'True as gold!' added the dwarf, with another chuckle. 'And so you\nwant to go to London?' he continued suddenly.\n\nRaymond started. 'I have been thinking of it,' he said; 'but now----'\n\n'Nonsense! You want to go now as much as before you went to the\nBrindled Cow, and I am the only person in the world that can help you\ndo it.'\n\n'But how did you know----'\n\n'Pooh! I know everything. Weren't you thinking of me at the very\nmoment you kissed her? There--no more words! Are you ready to start?\nSpeak up.'\n\nBut Raymond drew back, startled and mystified. Seeing this, the dwarf\naltered his tone, and from being abrupt and overbearing became\nfriendly and familiar.\n\n'Come, my dear boy,' he said, laying his great claw on Raymond's arm.\n'Men must be men; we mustn't let ourselves be ordered about by a\nparcel of women. Would you let a few kisses and keepsakes stand in the\nway of your ambition? How many years has she waited for you? Let her\nwait twenty-four hours longer. Besides, if you don't go now you will\nnever go at all. Rosamond--trust me--will like you none the less when\nshe sees you the greatest man in England. Come, now. I can put in\nyour hands a power before which the whole world bows: will you take it\nor not? I shan't offer it twice.'\n\nNow, Raymond had a secret suspicion that something was wrong in all\nthis; for why should a stranger be so anxious to confer an inestimable\nboon upon him? And yet London was but seven miles off. He could get\nback that very night if need be. It would be a pity to lose this\nchance after having waited for it so long. It could do no harm; it was\nworth trying. 'I think I will,' passed through Raymond's mind.\n\n'I knew you would!' exclaimed the dwarf at once, as if Raymond had\nspoken aloud. 'But we must lose no time, for you must be in London by\nfive; that is the hour when the Seven Brethren assemble. So--off with\nyour doublet!'\n\n'Why must I take my doublet off?'\n\n'To exchange with me. Mine is the same as yours--the only difference\nis in the lining. Try it.'\n\n'But it's too small,' objected Raymond.\n\n'It will fit whomsoever is lucky enough to get it,' said the dwarf,\nwagging his big head confidently. 'Let me help you--first this\narm--then this--and there you are.' And there Raymond was, sure\nenough, as neatly fitted as if he had been to the Court tailor.\n\n'And now, my dear Raymond,' continued the dwarf affably, 'I must\ntrouble you to carry me across the ford. One--two--and there we are!'\nAnd before the astonished young man had time to remonstrate his new\nfriend had sprang upon his shoulders, wound his long arms about his\nneck, and was urging him into the water.\n\nWell, it would not be so much of a job to carry over so small a\ncreature, Raymond thought. Besides, since putting on the dwarf's\ndoublet he had felt less his own master than before. If his soul were\nstill his own his doublet was not; and a very small compromise of\nfreedom sometimes goes a long way. So Raymond (like his contemporary\nSindbad the Sailor) set forth meekly with his burden on his back.\n\nThe River Thames was, in those days, very clear and transparent, with\na sandy bottom, and with frequent shallows or fords. The Honeymead\nford was reckoned an especially good one; and Raymond, expecting an\neasy passage, stepped into the eddying current with confidence.\n\nBut before he had gone far he thought there must be a mistake\nsomewhere: either he was not so strong as he had supposed or else the\ndwarf was uncommonly heavy. Twice or thrice he staggered and almost\nlost his footing. By the time he had got to the middle of the stream\nevery muscle in his body ached, his legs trembled under him, and the\nsweat stood on his forehead. The water, too, rose high above his\nwaist, and seemed to flow with unusual swiftness. If he had been\ncarrying a sack of gold on his shoulders, instead of a dwarf, it could\nnot have felt heavier.\n\n'You're not tired?' asked the dwarf, as Raymond laid hold of a rock\nthat rose partly out of the water and panted as if his lungs would\nburst.\n\n'What on earth are you made of?' gasped the young man.\n\n'Of all things conducive to worldly prosperity,' said the other, with\nhis odd metallic chuckle. 'But now, as we are at the middle of the\nriver, let us settle the terms of our bargain. I will give you my\ncap--you have wanted it ever since that day in the washing-room--in\nexchange for yours.' Having made this exchange (which Raymond was, of\ncourse, powerless to prevent his doing, even had he been so inclined),\nthe dwarf continued: 'You now possess the most precious talisman in\nthe world. By making a proper use of that cap you may reach any height\nof fortune. Does it fit you comfortably?'\n\n'Not at all!' cried Raymond: 'it makes my head ache. Take it off\nagain.'\n\n'Pooh! my good Raymond, is not unbounded wealth worth a headache?\nBesides, you will get used to it after a while. Meantime listen to\nthis couplet, which contains much wisdom in small space:--\n\n  Cap on--cap and knee!\n  Cap off--who is he?\n\nCan you remember that?'\n\n'What if I can?' groaned Raymond, clinging to the rock. 'We shall both\nbe drowned in another minute!'\n\n'Not at all,' answered the dwarf with composure. 'My left foot is a\ntrifle wet; but what of that? By-the-by, I shall be passing through\nHoneymead again this evening; shall I drop in at the Brindled Cow and\ntell Rosamund that you are all right?'\n\n'I am not all right. I wish I were at the Brindled Cow myself.'\n\n'Tut! tut! Ambition should not be so easily damped. Well, I'll make a\npoint of calling on the young lady. But, stay; I must carry some token\nto prove that I am an authorised messenger. What shall it be? Ah! this\nwill do--this half of a spade guinea that you wear at your neck.\nPermit me to remove it,' And he began to fumble with the silken\nstring.\n\n'Stop! that is my betrothal pledge--you can't have that!' cried\nRaymond, putting up his hand to withhold the dwarf's claw.\n\n'And who was it gave it to you, in the first place, I should like to\nknow?' exclaimed the dwarf tartly. 'Fie! have you so little confidence\nin your friends? It is for your own good that I must have the token.\nGive it me at once.'\n\nThe place in which this discussion was carried on was so inconvenient\nto Raymond, he was getting so exhausted, both in body and mind, and\nthe dwarf had spoken the last sentence so imperiously, that Raymond\nthought he had better yield. Moreover, the yellow cap squeezed his\nbrain just in those places where the proper arguments lay, and thus\nprevented his using them. The end of it was that he said--\n\n'I suppose you'd better take it, but----'\n\nHe never finished his sentence. The dwarf whipped the silken string\nover his head, and the golden pledge was gone. The next moment Raymond\nwas floundering headlong in the stream. How he reached the opposite\nbank he never knew--he seemed to be under the water half the time. At\nlast he got his hands on a bush growing beside the margin and pulled\nhimself out.\n\nWhere was the dwarf? He had vanished. Had he fallen off and been\ndrowned? What was that echo of a metallic chuckle in the air? Raymond\ngroaned and pressed his hands to his aching head, on which the yellow\ncap stuck fast.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE TALISMAN.\n\n\nAfter a while he got up and looked about him. The river was much\nswollen, and was hurrying past its banks with such fury that it was\nuseless to think of returning as he had come. No, he must go on. His\nhead was confused, so that he could not think clearly about Honeymead,\nand still less about Rosamund. She seemed far away and indistinct. Did\nshe love him? Did he love her? At all events, it was better to fix his\nmind on London now. He looked thither, but the clouds had gathered\nover the sky, and the sunlight no longer gleamed upon the golden\npinnacles. The city did not seem so alluring as from the other side of\nthe river. However, time was flying, and London was seven miles away.\nRaymond set forth.\n\nBy and by he came to a milestone, on which he sat down to rest, and to\nwonder how he was to make his fortune in London when he got there. It\nwas true that he had a talisman, but how was that to help him? A\nyellow cap! It was, indeed, woven of golden thread, and might be sold\nfor a guinea; but a guinea was not a kingdom. Meanwhile the cap made\nhis head ache so that he pulled it off. It was certainly a fine cap.\nIt was lined with the best yellow satin, and a peacock's feather was\nstuck in the band. On the band some letters were embroidered. Raymond\nspelt them out, and found that they made the following couplet:--\n\n  Cap on--cap and knee!\n  Cap off--who is he?\n\nIt was the same that the dwarf had repeated to him in the river. What\ndid it mean? The dwarf had said it was full of wisdom; but Raymond had\nnever been much in the way of wisdom, and perhaps might fail to\nrecognise it when he saw it. He could not even be sure whether it were\nbetter wisdom to put the cap on again or to keep it off. He was\ninclined to keep it off. His head felt much clearer so; he was able to\nthink lovingly of Rosamund once more, and he longed to see her again.\nWhat if some harm came to her in his absence? Might not that half of\nthe spade guinea give the dwarf some power over her? He rose to his\nfeet full of anxiety, and looked back towards Honeymead. Through a\nbreak in the clouds the sun lit up the little village; the cottages\nshowed clearly in the warm light; and amongst them, with its thatched\nand gabled roof, and with the great lime-trees standing over it, was\nthe Brindled Cow. Rosamund was there, no doubt, wondering where her\nRaymond was. Now, perhaps, the dwarf was coming in, with the\nhalf-guinea round his neck. What if he were to assert that he was the\ntrue Raymond, showing the token in proof thereof? When this thought\ncame into Raymond's mind he started up from the milestone, resolved to\ngo back to Honeymead without the loss of an instant. How blind and\nstupid he had been! Was not Rosamund more precious than a kingdom, or\nthan all the money in the Bank of England? Of course she was!\n\nBut just as Raymond's eyes were sparkling with good resolutions, and\none foot advanced on the way back to the Brindled Cow, he heard a\nflourish of trumpets, hautboys, and cymbals, and, behold! a splendid\ncavalcade advancing towards him on the way to London. In front rode a\ncompany of knights in glittering armour; then came a long array of\nmen-at-arms, squires, and attendants, gorgeously attired; then more\nknights, riding two-and-two; then a body of courtiers, and in the\nmidst of these, borne upon the shoulders of some of them, a platform\ndraped in cloth of gold. Upon the platform was a chair of carved\nivory, and in the chair sat a man with a long white beard falling over\nhis breast, and an ermine mantle on his shoulders. One foot rested on\na golden footstool, thereby showing a fine silk stocking with\nembroidered clocks. The sight of that stocking made Raymond's heart\nbeat.\n\nBy this time the vanguard of knights had reached the milestone beside\nwhich Raymond was standing. As they passed they glanced at him\ncontemptuously. This annoyed him, for he was used to think well of\nhimself, and the Honeymead people treated him with consideration. But\nif the knights looked contemptuous, the men-at-arms and attendants\njeered and made mouths at him; and as for the pages they mocked and\nbantered him unmercifully.\n\n'Here's an odd fish!' cried one, pointing with his finger.\n\n'He's lost his way trying to swim on land!' laughed another.\n\n'A scaly fellow--let's skin him and clean him!' called out a third.\n\n'How much are you a pound, fish?' asked a fourth.\n\n'Bah! he's stale already!' shouted a fifth.\n\n'What's that in his right fin?--a human cap and feather, I declare!'\nexclaimed a sixth.\n\n'Take it away from him!' cried several together; and one spurred his\nhorse towards the young man and reached forth the point of his lance,\nas if to catch the cap from Raymond's hand.\n\nBut Raymond, though a minute ago he was almost ready to throw the cap\naway, was not going to submit to being robbed of it. He caught the\nlance by the shaft and jerked it from the page's grasp; then, putting\nthe cap firmly on his head, he stood on his guard boldly, with the\nweapon advanced.\n\nWhy was the laugh with which the other pages had begun to greet their\ncompanion's mishap checked so suddenly? Why was every eye bent upon\nRaymond with an expression of respect and subservience? Why did all\nsalute him so profoundly, bowing to their saddles in silent homage?\nWhat did this sudden change mean? It could not be that they were awed\nby the bold front he had shown; it was more likely that this was but a\nnew way of making fun of him. And yet it was odd that all should have\njoined in it unanimously and at an instant's notice. What did it all\nmean?\n\nThe pages passed on, and the second company of knights followed.\nStrange! they also seemed to have taken up the jest, for one and all\nmade deep obeisance to Raymond as they passed. And now came on the\ncourtiers, bearing aloft the platform on which sat the majestic figure\nin the pink silk stockings. Raymond began to feel alarmed. If this\nwere (as he more than suspected) his Majesty King Ormund himself, what\npunishment would be inflicted for the audacious crime of disarming one\nof his Majesty's bodyguard? To lose his head was the least he might\nexpect. There could be no doubt that Raymond was alarmed, for he\nactually forgot to uncover his head in the presence of his sovereign.\nThere he stood, upright and pale, with the spear in his hand, the\nyellow cap on his head, and his eyes fixed upon the king.\n\nThe courtiers saw him. There was a flutter and a murmuring amongst\nthem; one of them said something to the King, at which he gave a\nstart.\n\n'Now for it!' thought Raymond. He moved his head a little--perhaps he\nwould not have the power of moving it much longer. He wondered how it\nwould look when it was off his shoulders.\n\nThe King now leaned forward in his ivory chair and gazed at Raymond\nintently. Then he gave an order to those about him, and the platform\nwas lowered to the ground by those who carried it. The King stepped\nfrom it and came straight towards Raymond, the crowd falling back on\neither side. How strange! instead of frowning his Majesty wore a very\ncordial smile. He was close up to Raymond now; he was throwing his\nroyal arms about his neck; he was kissing him heartily on both\ncheeks; he was saying, 'It delights our heart to see thee.\nWelcome--welcome to England!'\n\n'What, in the name of wonder, is the meaning of it all?' said Raymond\nto himself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE KING'S FAVOUR.\n\n\nWhen it became evident that King Ormund, instead of cutting off\nRaymond's head, was treating him like a younger brother, Raymond began\nto pluck up spirit. 'Possibly I look like some friend of his,' he\nthought; and he resolved to make the most of the mistake, keeping his\neyes open for the first chance of escape.\n\nMeanwhile the King overwhelmed him with attentions, and even insisted\nupon his sitting beside him in the ivory chair; and the courtiers who\nhad to carry this double weight, instead of looking discontented,\nsmiled as if Raymond had been loading them with benefits instead of\nwith himself. The procession now swept onward, and the King himself\nhad hardly more honour than the washerwoman's son. In his wildest\ndreams Raymond had never anticipated making such a brilliant entry\ninto London as this.\n\nAnd had he given up the idea of going back to Honeymead? Yes; and he\nhad almost forgotten that there was such a place. The Brindled Cow and\nRosamund were like visions of the past which did not much concern him.\nHis yellow cap was the thing that most troubled him, for it pained his\nhead badly. If he had been alone he would have taken it off; but in\nsuch fine company he was unwilling to be seen without the handsomest\npart of his attire.\n\nAll this time the King had been talking to him in the most\nconfidential and familiar way imaginable.\n\n'My dear fellow,' he said, 'your arrival is most timely. To-morrow\nwould have been too late. It is most kind of you.'\n\n'I rejoice to be of service----'\n\n'Service, my friend! Such a word between you and me? Never!\nCounsel--support--sympathy--such as one potentate may claim from\nanother--these I expect from you. But let me explain to you exactly\nhow the case stands. In the first place, I feel that I am getting\nold.'\n\nAfter saying this the King paused as if for a reply. Raymond had never\nknown what it was to pay a compliment in his life; but now something\nprompted him to say, with a smile and a bow--\n\n'Not at all. Your Majesty is, to all intents and purposes, as young as\nI am.'\n\n'Ah, it is very good of you to say that,' sighed his Majesty, looking\nhighly gratified. 'But I really am old--older than you would suppose;\nand, if you can believe it, some of my scoundrelly subjects have said\n(behind my back) that I am growing senile--that is the word the\nvillains use--and they are plotting to dethrone me at ten o'clock\nto-morrow morning.'\n\n'A conspiracy?'\n\n'Nothing less. It is announced to take place at Drury Lane Theatre,\nand the house is sold, from pit to gallery.'\n\n'Oh! it is only a play, then?' said Raymond, in a relieved tone.\n\n'I don't know what you mean by a play,' returned the King, looking\nslightly hurt. 'It takes place on the stage, of course; but it is as\nmuch earnest as anything that goes on in London.'\n\n'Certainly--of course,' said Raymond, anxious not to seem ignorant of\nfashionable customs. 'But whom do the conspirators mean to put on the\nthrone in your stead? Your son?'\n\n'My Assimund, you mean? Well, that is just the point. My son Assimund\nis a perfectly harmless young fellow, but--in fact--he is rather too\nmuch so.'\n\n'Too much so?'\n\n'Yes--he is--as I might say--hum!' And the King tapped his forehead\nsignificantly.\n\n'You don't mean------' And Raymond laid his forefinger between his\neyes and then shook it in the air.\n\n'Fact, I assure you.'\n\n'Dear me, how sad!'\n\n'So now you see what I am driving at,' added the King more briskly.\n\n'Well, I hardly--that is----'\n\n'Briefly, then, the part of the usurper has not yet been given out.\nBut I have reigned fifty years, and, between you and me, I'm tired of\nit. This crown of mine'--the King laid his hand upon the diadem he\nwore--'often gives me a headache. Ah, I see you understand that.\nYou've felt the same yourself?'\n\n'Why, something of the sort, I confess,' said Raymond, settling his\nyellow cap on his brow.\n\n'Bless you! what monarch has not? But you are young and hearty--you\ncan stand it. So here is my plan: I decline to submit to force,\nbecause the precedent would be dangerous; but I am willing to\nabdicate. That is my counter-move--my rival attraction, as the stage\nmanager would say. But, if it is to succeed, there is no time to be\nlost; the posters must be got out at once.'\n\n'Yes, I agree with you,' said Raymond, who was now quite bewildered.\n\n'I was sure I might count on your aid. It is settled, then. As soon as\nwe reach town I will arrange with the advertising agent that your name\nshall appear upon the bills as my successor in the largest type.'\n\n'I?' cried Raymond, jumping up, and almost oversetting the ivory\nchair.\n\n'Bless me! what's the matter? Who else but you?'\n\nRaymond sat down again quite dumb-foundered. He a king! It had been\nthe ambition of his life, but now that it was so near being realised\nhe found himself unprepared. Some kinds of good luck are better to\nlook forward to than to have. However, since it seemed inevitable,\nRaymond was bound to put a good face upon it. Probably he would have a\nprime minister to give him some hints at starting.\n\n'I shall be happy to make myself of use,' he said politely. 'But I\nmust tell you that it is some time since I governed a kingdom, and I\nmay be a little out of practice.'\n\n'Oh, never mind that,' returned the King, stroking his beard. 'In an\nabsolute monarchy like this the sovereign is responsible to no one. Do\nas you like; it saves trouble and expense too.'\n\nRaymond smiled, and tried to look at ease. But he resolved to make one\nmore effort to get time for looking about him.\n\n'It will not be best, I suppose, to enter upon my duties at once?' he\nsaid. 'The people will have to accustom themselves to the change,\nand----'\n\n'Nothing of the sort,' interrupted the King. 'I don't believe in too\nmuch playing to the pit and gallery, especially when the stalls are\ninclined to be disorderly. Make your hit with the executioner's axe,\nif need be. Don't mince matters--it is better to mince _them_.'\n\n'But are you really so willing to part with your crown? It looks quite\nas comfortable as my cap feels,' sighed Raymond. They were now within\nsight of the city gates, and he was feeling rather nervous.\n\n'Do you think so? Suppose you try it on?' said the good-natured\nmonarch, taking his crown off. 'Come, off with your cap!'\n\nRaymond doffed his cap, thrust it into the front of his doublet, and\nput out his hands to take the crown which the King held towards him.\n\nBut as he did so he noticed a singular change come over his Majesty's\nheretofore jolly visage. The eyes of the venerable potentate opened\nwider and wider until they were broader than they were long; his\nforehead wrinkled, and his nostrils expanded. His face from red became\ncrimson, and from crimson purple; and he shook all over.\n\n'Who are you, fellow?' he roared out in a terrible voice. 'How did you\nget up here? Ho! guards! seize this insolent varlet and cut off his\nhead this moment!'\n\nThere was no time to think twice. Raymond sprang to his feet,\noverturning the ivory chair as he did so, so that his transparent\nMajesty King Ormund fell off to the platform, which trembled at the\nshock. The fifty courtiers who supported it staggered and lost their\nfooting, and the whole affair came to the ground with a tremendous\ncrash, landing the King in a mud-puddle, and splashing his transparent\nstockings all over with mire.\n\nTaking advantage of the dismay and confusion thus brought about,\nRaymond dodged between the legs of a gigantic guard who was on the\npoint of clutching him, butted his head into the stomach of a second,\nwho in falling upset a third, over whom a fourth and fifth stumbled;\nand, having by this time got to the brink of the broad and deep ditch\nbeside the road, he crossed it with a flying leap, plunged into the\nbushes on the further side, and made such good use of his legs that in\ntwo or three minutes he was beyond the reach of pursuit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nDONKEY-BACK.\n\n\nRaymond ran on without paying attention to the way he was going so\nlong as it was away from King Ormund and his company. By and by he\ncame to another road, narrower than the one he had left, but leading\nalso towards the city. There was a heap of stones on the roadside, and\non this Raymond sat down to think over his adventure.\n\nIt was a puzzle, whichever way he looked at it. Had the King been\nmaking game of him all along? No, his Majesty had without doubt looked\nupon him as a person of consequence. But if so, what had so suddenly\nundeceived him?\n\n'The dwarf must be at the bottom of it,' said Raymond to himself.\n\nBut how? The dwarf had given him the cap and promised him the kingdom.\nHe had been very near getting the kingdom; but the cap had only given\nhim a headache. He pulled it out of his doublet and looked at it.\n\nYes, it was a fine cap. But Raymond had got to feel such a dislike of\nit that, had he owned another, he would have thrown this away. But it\nwould never do to make his entrance into London bareheaded.\n\n'But why should I go to London at all?' Raymond asked himself. 'I\ndon't really want to be a king: I only like to think about being one.\nShall I go back to the Brindled Cow and Rosamund? Yes, I will!' And\nwith that he got up, put on his cap, and took two or three steps in\nthe direction of Honeymead.\n\n'But what an ass I should be,' he said, stopping short, 'to turn back\nat the very gates of London! Besides, it is too late to get back to\nHoneymead to-night. I won't return before to-morrow. Something may\nhappen after all.'\n\nHe faced about once more towards London.\n\n'It is an odd thing,' he remarked to himself as he went along, 'how I\nkeep changing my mind first one way and then another. Why is it? It\nused not to be so when I was in Honeymead. It almost seems as if I\nwere not the same fellow; or as if I were sometimes myself, and\nsometimes somebody else. I believe there must be something of that\nkind the matter with me,' he continued after a while. 'Look how those\ncourtiers treated me. They were all cap and knee to me one moment, and\nthe next they were all shouting out \"Who is he? Cap and knee--who is\nhe?\" Hullo! I have an idea! It is--it isn't--can it be--the cap?'\n\nHe snatched it off his head, and round the band he read again the\ncouplet that had mystified him before:--\n\n  Cap on--cap and knee!\n  Cap off--who is he?\n\nThe words began to have a meaning now. Fairies and magic spells were\nat that time common-place matters in England. Fairy stories were not\nwritten then, but the events they tell about used to happen. The dwarf\nhimself had called the cap a talisman. 'I will try the experiment with\nthe next person I see,' said Raymond to himself.\n\nThe words were scarcely out of his mouth when a noise of pattering\nhoofs made him look round, and he saw a young fellow riding towards\nhim on the extreme end of a small donkey. Raymond stood in the middle\nof the road, his cap in his hand.\n\n'Get out of the way, you!' called out the rider as he drew near. 'I'm\ngoing to the Seven Brethren. Now then, stupid!'\n\n'I also am in a hurry to get to London,' said Raymond politely.\n'Couldn't you give me a ride there?'\n\n'Mind your eye, numskull!' cried the other; and he tried to drive his\ndonkey directly over Raymond. But Raymond caught the bridle, and at\nthe same time put on his cap. Everything depended on what the\ndonkey-rider did next.\n\nGreatly to Raymond's gratification--though it half-frightened him\ntoo--the fellow immediately slipped backwards over his donkey's tail;\nand, having reached the ground, made an awkward but obsequious salute.\n\n'Beg your Worship's pardon humbly!' said he, ducking his head and\nscraping his foot at every few words. 'Didn't know your Worship at\nfirst. Hope your Worship will pardon a poor lad whose intellects are\nnot quite right.'\n\nIndeed, the fellow appeared only half-witted. He had round goggle\neyes, a silly mouth, and scarcely any forehead at all.\n\nAs for Raymond he felt more like hugging the fellow than merely\npardoning him; but he remembered that he must keep up his dignity.\nMoreover, he now perceived that the wearing of the cap made almost as\nmuch change in his own feelings as in other people's opinion of him.\n\n'I will overlook your mistake,' he said condescendingly; 'and in proof\nof it I will make use of your donkey as far as the city; for I am\nweary, and there is not much time to lose.'\n\n'Indeed, then, your Worship, he's not fit for a gentleman like your\nWorship to be riding on,' replied the fellow, ducking again; 'but, if\nyour Worship doesn't mind, I should be proud to see your Worship\nsitting on him; and he'll carry your Worship well.'\n\nRaymond mounted accordingly, and the party proceeded on their way, the\nfellow trotting behind, and occasionally persuading the donkey with\nthe oaken cudgel he carried. Meanwhile Raymond asked him some\nquestions.\n\n'You are going to the Seven Brethren?'\n\n'Yes, your Worship. There are good things there, as your Worship\nknows.'\n\n'How should I know?'\n\n'La! as if I couldn't see that your Worship was one of them himself!'\n\n'It must be the same Seven Brethren of which the dwarf spoke,' thought\nRaymond; and he said aloud, 'They meet to-night at five o'clock, I\nthink?'\n\n'Right, your Worship. And your Worship may trust me. \"Yellow-cap\" is\nthe password, \"seven\" the number, and \"five\" the time. Isn't it, your\nWorship?'\n\nRaymond felt much obliged by this information, though he was careful\nnot to say so. When they came to the city gates he slipped off the\ndonkey at a moment when the other was not looking, at the same time\nremoving his cap; when he had the pleasure of seeing the fellow turn\nto him and ask him whether he had seen 'his Worship?' Raymond only\nshook his head in reply; and then, following the donkey and its owner\nat a distance, he presently saw them turn into a narrow archway.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE DARK PASSAGE.\n\n\nRaymond crossed over to the opposite side of the road, in order to\ntake a look at the house to which the archway belonged. It was a\nlittle old-fashioned inn, squeezed in between two tall houses, like a\nshabby dwarf between two respectable giants. Over the door hung a\nsign--a painting of a man with seven heads. They were ugly faces, all\nof them, each with its peculiar kind of ugliness, and Raymond felt a\nseparate kind of dislike towards each one. Nevertheless (as might have\nbeen expected, seeing that there was but one body between them) they\nbore a sort of family likeness one to another. 'That must be a very\nwicked body,' Raymond thought; 'it must be capable of committing all\nthe seven deadly sins at once.' It was thick and shapeless, with short\ncrooked legs, and very long arms. Underneath was written, '_The Seven\nBrethren_.'\n\nAs he stood in the shadow on the opposite side of the street, with his\ncap under his arm, Raymond felt half-minded not to enter the inn which\nhung out so uninviting a sign. How different were these faces from\nthose of Armand, Dorimund, Sigismund, and the rest of the rosy young\nfarmers who drank milk at the Brindled Cow! Should he go back there\neven now? There he would be sure of a welcome: he was not sure of a\nwelcome here. Raymond hesitated. But before he could make up his mind\nthe barmaid of the Seven Brethren appeared at the door of the inn. She\nsoon espied him where he stood, and smiled and beckoned to him.\n\n'Come over, come over, my lad,' she said; 'it's just upon supper-time,\nand there's a chop on the gridiron, and a draught of brown ale I'll\ndraw for you. Come; you look right hungry.'\n\nHer voice and look made Raymond's heart beat, for, in a certain way,\nthey were like Rosamund's. And yet they were unlike. She had eyes like\nRosamund's, but the expression in them was one which Rosamund never\nwore. Her manner of speaking, too, resembled Rosamund's. Yet Rosamund\nhad never spoken in quite that tone. Raymond hardly knew whether to be\npleased or shocked. After a little hesitation he put on his cap and\ncame across the street to her.\n\n'Oh! my Lord, I'm sure I crave your pardon!' exclaimed the girl,\ndropping him a curtsey. But though her words were humble Raymond\nfancied he saw a mischievous sparkle in her eye which made him suspect\nthat she might be making fun of him. 'I didn't recognise your Lordship\nin the shadow over there,' she continued, in a still softer voice.\n'They have been expecting your Lordship.'\n\nNow that Raymond was close to the girl she seemed much prettier than\nbefore. 'What is your name?' he asked her.\n\n'Silvia, please your Lordship.'\n\n'Silvia--not Rosamund?'\n\n'Oh, no, please your Lordship. Rosamund is such a vulgar name.'\n\n'You are very pretty, Silvia.'\n\n'Your Lordship is very good to say so,' replied she, casting down her\nsparkling eyes and curtseying again.\n\n'What is that round your neck, Silvia?'\n\n'That is the half of a brass farthing, please your Lordship, that I\nand my lover split between us this afternoon.'\n\n'I thought it was the half of a spade guinea.'\n\n'I'd be glad to exchange it for that,' said Silvia, looking up, with a\nsmile.\n\n'Would you exchange your lover at the same time?'\n\n'If the other was a handsome man,' said she, with a coquettish glance.\n'But won't your Lordship come in? It's past five, I'm sure.'\n\n'I will follow you,' said he. And they went in.\n\n'Will your Lordship take my hand?' she said. 'The passage is very dark\nand winding.' She put her hand in his as she spoke.\n\n'Why is there no light here?' he asked.\n\n'This passage can never be lighted, please your Lordship: the goblins\npinch out the wick of the candle with their fingers.'\n\n'Are there goblins here?' said Raymond, drawing back.\n\n'Keep hold of my hand, and they will do your Lordship no harm.'\n\n'Does this passage belong to them?'\n\n'Mind the steps, please your Lordship,' said Silvia suddenly. 'If you\nwere to lose me here you would never see light again.'\n\n'How strange your voice sounds! Are you Silvia?'\n\n'I am not Rosamund, at any rate!' replied his conductor, with a low\nlaugh. 'It's the vault of the passage makes my voice sound hoarse.'\n\n'We must be a long way underground. And this darkness is like a block\nof black marble. And I feel as if creatures were walking around me who\ncan see me though I cannot see them.'\n\n'Their eyes are more used to the darkness than your Lordship's.'\n\n'How far have we still to go?'\n\n'Not far. I shall leave your Lordship at the next corner.'\n\n'What am I to do then?'\n\nNo reply was made to this question. But in a few moments Raymond lost\nhis hold of the hand that had guided him, and a voice said, in a\nwhining tone--\n\n'Won't your Lordship spare me a trifle for coming so far?'\n\n'I--I'm afraid I have nothing to give,' said Raymond, putting his\nhand in his empty pocket.\n\n'A kiss is all I want from your Lordship,' answered the voice; and\nthen a pair of lips met Raymond's in the darkness. The lips were cold\nas ice, but the breath that came between them was hot as flame.\n\nThen all was silence. Had Raymond kissed one of the invisible goblins\ninstead of Silvia? Or was Silvia herself a goblin?\n\nBe that as it might Raymond was left in an awkward situation. For all\nhe knew he was in the middle of an underground labyrinth; and the next\nstep might land him at the bottom of some pitfall. Raymond remembered\nthat long ago, when he was a small boy, his mother had once shut him\nup in the dark closet behind the kitchen chimney, because he had made\na mud-pie on the ironing-board. That closet had seemed black enough,\nbut what was it compared with this? Besides, Rosamund had come after a\nwhile and secretly let him out, and they had spent the afternoon\ntogether in the barn. But Rosamund could never come to him here; and\nthat goblin kiss upon his lips had taken away his right to hope for\nher.\n\nWhile these thoughts had been passing through his mind he had been\nslowly feeling his way forward; but all at once he was brought to a\nstand by a sharp prick on the breast as if from the point of a\nlevelled spear.\n\n'Who comes?' said a harsh voice.\n\n'Only me,' replied Raymond in his most conciliating tone.\n\n'Have you the password?' demanded the voice again.\n\nRecollecting what the donkey-driver had told him, Raymond answered at\na venture--\n\n'Yellow-cap!'\n\n'Pass on, Yellow-cap!' said the voice.\n\nHe passed on, hoping that his wanderings were now to end. But after a\nfew steps he felt against his throat the smooth sharp edge of a sword,\nwhich caused him to start back with a cry.\n\n'Who comes?' said a snarling voice.\n\n'Yellow-cap!' Raymond replied.\n\n'The number, Yellow-cap?'\n\n'Seven!' hazarded Raymond.\n\n'Pass on, Seven!' said the voice.\n\nRaymond stepped forward nervously, stumbled down an unexpected pair of\nsteps, and all in a moment there was a brilliant dazzle of light\nclose to his eyes. It vanished as suddenly as it came; but it had\ngiven him a fleeting impression of many grisly faces pressing around\nhim on all sides, with fire-lit eyes all fixed upon his. On the\nsucceeding darkness, which seemed more intense than ever, the image of\nthese faces was still somehow discernible; while from amidst them came\na hissing voice, which said--\n\n'Who comes?'\n\n'Yellow-cap!'\n\n'The number?'\n\n'Seven!'\n\n'The time?'\n\n'Five!'\n\n'Pass!' said the voice.\n\nAnd immediately (though how it happened he could not tell) Raymond\nfound himself in a square, low-ceilinged, comfortable room, with a\nlarge lamp burning in the centre of the table, around which were\nseated six men, each with a long pipe in his mouth and a tankard of\nale before him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE MAGIC EYE.\n\n\nThe six men arose, and each in turn, and then all together, uttered\nthe words--\n\n'Welcome, Yellow-cap!'\n\nThen he among them who had the biggest nose and the most sweeping\nmoustachios came forward, made Raymond a grave salute, and, taking him\nby the arm, led him to a chair at the head of the table.\n\n'The tale of the Seven Brethren is at last complete,' said he.\n\n'Hear! hear!' gruffly responded the others.\n\n'Brother Yellow-cap,' continued the first speaker, 'let me introduce\nyou to our Brotherhood. I am the Prime Maniac. He on your right is the\nChancellor of the Jingle. Next to him is the Home Doggerel. At the\nfoot of the table is the First Lord of the Seesaw. The Foreign\nDoggerel is next on the left. Next again the Lord Privy Gander. One\nand all of us are bound to aid you, abet you, and obey you, so long as\nyou own and wear the yellow cap. Once more, welcome, Yellow-cap!'\n\n'Welcome!' chimed in the Brethren; and they raised their tankards to\ntheir lips and emptied them at a draught.\n\n'We do not call one another by our titles,' said the Lord Privy\nGander.\n\n'Nor by our names,' added the Chancellor of the Jingle.\n\n'Nor by our surnames,' pursued the Home Doggerel.\n\n'But by our nicknames,' observed the Foreign Doggerel.\n\n'By the mystic syllables repeated,' said the First Lord of the Seesaw.\n\nHereupon a curious ceremony took place. Beginning with the Lord Privy\nGander, and so on in regular order to the First Lord of the Seesaw,\neach brother in rapid succession spoke his own nickname, with the\nfollowing result.\n\n'Ruba!' said the Lord Privy Gander.\n\n'Dubb!' said the Chancellor of the Jingle.\n\n'Dubsix!' said the Home Doggerel.\n\n'Menin!' said the Foreign Doggerel.\n\n'Atub!' said the First Lord of the Seesaw.\n\n'Gyp is my nickname,' remarked the Prime Maniac, 'because the verse\nhad not feet enough to go all round. Did you ever hear anything like\nthis before?'\n\n'I fancied at one moment that I had; but now I don't know,' Yellow-cap\nanswered.\n\n'There is only one inconvenience about it,' observed Ruba.\n\n'We must always speak in order,' added Dubb.\n\n'On pain of spoiling our metre,' put in Dubsix.\n\n'And our rhyme,' continued Menin.\n\n'Except Gyp,' added Atub, 'who can talk when he likes, and that is his\nchief advantage.'\n\n'It is an advantage in more ways than one,' Gyp remarked. 'Not only\ncan I talk when I like, but none of the others can say anything unless\nall the rest are willing; because his speaking makes it necessary that\nall the rest should have something to say, and that Ruba should begin.\nThe only laws that we recognise are metrical laws, and they, as you\nknow, are the strictest in the world.'\n\nYellow-cap felt rather bewildered; but he was glad to find that he\nhimself was not included in the metrical system. Some error in either\nrhyme or rhythm would, he felt sure, have been the consequence.\n\n'Let me order you a pipe and tankard,' continued Gyp, ringing the\nbell. Somewhat to Yellow-cap's surprise Silvia appeared at the door in\nanswer to the summons. The pipe and the tankard were soon brought; and\nthe new-comer's health having then been drunk in ceremonious silence,\nthe formal part of his reception seemed to be at an end.\n\nMeanwhile he had improved such opportunity as he had had for examining\nthe faces about him, and was not altogether astonished to find that\nthey were the originals of the many-headed portrait on the inn\nsignboard. Only the seventh (and central) head, the ugliest of all,\nwas missing; the Brethren, exclusive of himself, being only six in\nnumber. Beer-drinking and tobacco-smoking seemed to be the business of\nthe meeting. Yellow-cap had never until this evening drunk anything\nstronger than milk or smoked anything more dangerous than sweet-fern;\nbut the beer gave him courage for the tobacco, and he soon began to\nfeel at home.\n\n'But can you tell me how I got here?' he inquired of Gyp, who sat\nnearest him, and who, moreover, could answer without setting all the\nfeet running. 'The way was long and perilous and as black as pitch;\nand yet, when the door was open just now, I could see right through\nthe house into the street, and it did not seem more than twelve\npaces.'\n\n'Did you come alone?' asked Gyp, puffing a long whiff of smoke up\ntowards the ceiling.\n\n'Alone with Silvia.'\n\n'Ah-h-h! Silvia sometimes leads the best of men astray. But you got\nhere at last, and that is more than many do. And you were but just in\ntime. The King prints his placards to-night.'\n\n'What placards?' asked Yellow-cap innocently.\n\n'Announcing his \"successor\"--a farce in one act.'\n\n'And who is his successor?'\n\n'Who would you like him to be?' inquired Gyp, smiling.\n\nAt this all the Brethren looked at one another and winked\nmysteriously. Yellow-cap, who was fast becoming wise, and who knew\nmore about this matter than he cared to admit, could not help\nwondering at his queer position--the Head of a Secret Society hostile\nto the very monarch who had offered him his kingdom that same\nafternoon. The thought of it made him feel quite hot; and he was so\nfar forgetting himself as to be on the point of taking off his cap to\ncool his forehead, when Gyp caught his arm, and a murmur of horror ran\nthrough the assembly.\n\n'Forbear! as you value your credit!' cried Ruba.\n\n'And your gentility!' exclaimed Dubb.\n\n'And your influence!' called out Dubsix.\n\n'And your success!' shouted Menin.\n\n'And your reputation!' bawled Atub.\n\n'It is against the first law of the Brotherhood,' added Ruba.\n\n'We all have headaches,' asserted Dubb.\n\n'We couldn't live without them,' declared Dubsix.\n\n'Would you commit suicide?' demanded Menin.\n\n'Be guilty of treason?' hiccoughed Atub, who had swallowed some smoke\nthe wrong way.\n\n'Good gracious!' was all that poor Yellow-cap was able to reply.\n\n'Allow me to explain,' interposed Gyp courteously. 'The Seven Brethren\nare the outcome of an artificial civilisation. It is our strength and\nalso our weakness that we never seem to be what we are. Our laws are\nbinding because they are irrational. Our power is great because it is\nan imposition. Our respectability is perfect because it is a fraud. We\ngain our ends because our ends are ourselves. Our union is strong\nbecause it depends on mutual distrust. In a word, we are the\nEverlasting Unreality! Have you understood me?'\n\n'Not in the least,' replied Yellow-cap.\n\n''Tis well. No one of us understands either himself or his brother. He\nwho understands or is understood is anathema.'\n\n'Dear me!' ejaculated Yellow-cap.\n\n'You have heard of the cap of invisibility?'\n\n'I believe so.'\n\n'The yellow cap is more wondrous yet--it is only when you put it on\nthat you can be seen--at all events by the world.'\n\n'Dear me!' ejaculated Yellow-cap again.\n\nHereupon all the Brethren twisted their moustachios, knocked the ashes\nout of their pipes, refilled them, lighted them, and smoked in\nsilence.\n\n'By the way,' said Yellow-cap at length, 'about the signboard outside\nthe inn-door. I recognise six of the portraits, but where is the\nseventh? He was the one whose face was the most ugly and disagreeable\nof all; but I don't see him here.'\n\n'He is here,' said Ruba.\n\nYellow-cap was going to ask, 'Where?' but Gyp laid his hand upon his\narm and whispered in his ear that he must not interrupt until the\nwhole verse had run itself out.\n\n'We have seen him,' continued Dubb.\n\n'The likeness is good,' pronounced Dubsix.\n\n'Flattering,' affirmed Menin.\n\n'I can think of nothing to say,' confessed Atub.\n\n'Come and look in our mirror,' said Gyp, taking Yellow-cap by the arm\nand leading him to the end of the room.\n\nNow, against the wall at this end hung a very odd specimen of a\nlooking-glass. Its surface was convex, and in shape it was neither\nsquare, nor round, nor exactly oval, for it was pointed at both ends.\nIts length was divided into three parts, of which the central one was\nblack, and those at the sides of a dull white like china. Altogether\nit looked like a gigantic eye plucked from the forehead of some\nPolyphemus; and hung up in the old inn-parlour, where, if it could no\nlonger see anything itself, it might at least give those who gazed\ninto it a distorted image of themselves.\n\nWhen Yellow-cap, however, first fixed his eyes upon this curious\nmirror he could see nothing but a profound depth of blackness; but in\nthe midst of this obscure movements were presently visible. By and by\nthe many wavering shapes grew clearer and drew near to one another\nand, as it were, melted together, until at last a definite image stood\nforth against the dark background.\n\nA strange figure it was--of a short-legged, shapeless man, with no\nless than seven heads upon his shoulders. Six of these Yellow-cap knew\nat once; but the seventh--the central and most important one of\nall--was unknown to him. And what an unpleasant set of features it\nhad, to be sure!\n\nThe whole company had gathered behind Yellow-cap, who was standing\ndirectly in front of the mirror.\n\n'You don't know him?' spoke the voice of Ruba.\n\n'He knows you,' said Dubb.\n\n'He is an old friend of yours,' remarked Dubsix.\n\n'And a very dear one,' added Menin.\n\n'And a very false one,' observed Atub.\n\n'What does it all mean?' inquired Yellow-cap.\n\n'If you will give yourself the trouble to lay your left finger beside\nyour nose it might inform you,' said Gyp courteously.\n\nYellow-cap did as he was desired. The reflection in the glass lifted\nthe corresponding finger and laid it beside the nose of no other than\nthe central head.\n\n'Would you mind winking your left eye?' continued Gyp.\n\nYellow-cap did so. The central head alone winked back.\n\n'Now you might stick out your tongue,' suggested Gyp.\n\nYellow-cap tried this experiment also: the seventh head was the only\none that imitated the gesture.\n\n'This is absurd,' exclaimed Yellow-cap indignantly. 'The central head\nimitates everything I do; it even pretends to look like me, which is\nridiculous, for it is ugly, while I am----'\n\n'Perhaps you have never looked in a mirror before?' said Gyp gently.\n\n'Yes, I have--in tin pans,' returned Yellow-cap warmly.\n\n'Tin pans are untrustworthy,' said Gyp. 'This is the best mirror in\nthe world, and that is the reason why it is in the shape of an eye,\nwithout any face belonging to it.'\n\n'I should think you would be the last people in the world to want a\ngood mirror, or any mirror at all!' exclaimed Yellow-cap testily.\n\n'We don't want it--and that is why we have it. We call it our eyesore;\nand it is the eye of our destiny. Look again.'\n\n'What is this?' muttered Yellow-cap. 'All the heads are melting into\none another; now they are all swallowed up in the central head; and\nnow that head looks more like me than ever, and yet uglier; and\nnow--why, it looks like the old dwarf I carried across the river,\nand--which am I?'\n\nHe turned round, and, behold! the six Brethren were seated each one in\nhis place at the table, smoking and drinking as gravely as ever, and\nlooking as if they had never once stirred from their chairs. Glancing\nback at the mirror, he saw that it had returned to its former\nunreflecting condition, only a few vanishing shadows being yet visible\nin its black depths.\n\n'It certainly is different from a tin pan,' thought he as he went back\nto his chair at the head of the table.\n\n'Nothing more than an optical illusion,' said Gyp, filling\nYellow-cap's pipe from his own tobacco-pouch, and handing it to him\ncourteously. 'There is no harm in it--none at all.'\n\n'Especially as it makes you our Head,' observed Ruba.\n\n'I move we suspend the rules,' said Dubb.\n\n'I second that motion,' said Dubsix.\n\n'We mustn't put our feet into our business,' remarked Menin in an\nexplanatory way.\n\n'The only rule we never suspend is the rule that no rule shall not\nsometimes be suspended,' added Atub.\n\n'So be it,' said Gyp agreeably. 'The metrical system is hereby\nsuspended for the rest of the evening. Have another tankard of ale,\nBrother Yellow-cap?'\n\n'I don't care if I do--with a Head on it,' returned Yellow-cap,\nputting an emphasis on the 'Head.' And when the ale was brought he\narose, with a frown on his brow, and spoke to them in a bold voice as\nfollows:--\n\n'Yes, I am your Head, for no one of you is so unreal as I. When I was\na little boy I sat blowing soap-bubbles, and saw the Appanage of\nRoyalty appear amidst the clouds of the wash-tub. He promised me this\ncap, and now the cap is mine. I have paid for it all I had in the\nworld, and now I mean to get my profit out of it. You have waited for\nme: I have never waited for you; for I could succeed without you; but,\nwithout me, you would be nothing!'\n\n'Hear! hear!' exclaimed the Brethren in chorus, seeming much pleased\nwith Yellow-cap's eloquence.\n\n'Now, Brother Gyp, you may state the object of this meeting,' said\nYellow-cap, resuming his seat.\n\nGyp bowed and pulled a roll of parchment out of Brother Dubsix's\npocket, which was written all over with musical notes in the bass and\ntreble clefs.\n\n'The object is a twofold one,' he began.\n\n'I object to that expression,' interrupted Dubb.\n\n'Why?' demanded Gyp in a mortified tone.\n\n'Only for the sake of speaking out of metre,' replied Dubb; at which\nthe Brethren looked at one another and lifted their eyebrows.\n\n'Well, at all events,' said Gyp, recovering his good-humour, 'we want\nto get the King out and put the usurper in his place.'\n\n'Has anything been done to prepare the people for this change?'\ninquired Yellow-cap. 'Are they on our side?'\n\n'We've got fifty paid _claqueurs_--I know that,' said Atub.\n\n'And we have suspended the rule about full-dress in the stalls,' added\nDubsix.\n\n'Ah!' exclaimed Menin, nodding his head and crossing his feet on the\ntable in republican style, 'there is a great deal in that.'\n\n'How are you going to depose him?' Yellow-cap asked.\n\n'In the usual way,' said Gyp: 'by finding a rhyme to him, and then\nputting him under foot.'\n\n'But suppose he won't be deposed?'\n\n'Ah, it will be our turn then,' said Ruba gloomily. 'He will appoint a\nsuccessor, and we shall be repeated backwards.'\n\nAt this all the Brethren curled their moustachios and sighed deeply.\n\n'Who is to find the rhyme to \"King Ormund?\"' inquired Yellow-cap, to\nwhom this affair began to look rather irregular.\n\n'Who but the usurper?' cried all the Brethren together.\n\n'And who is he?' said Yellow-cap.\n\nHereupon the Brethren one and all took their pipes out of their mouths\nand deliberately pointed at Yellow-cap with their pipe-stems. At the\nsame time they puffed out a vast cloud of tobacco-smoke, which rose\nto the ceiling of the room and collected there.\n\n'Do you mean me?' cried Yellow-cap, recoiling. 'I never made a rhyme\nin my life.'\n\n'You have said it!' they answered with one voice; 'so let it be!'\n\nAt this moment they all arose and solemnly emptied their tankards;\nthen they piled the tankards together in the centre of the table; and\nDubsix and Atub, taking each an arm of Yellow-cap, raised him from the\nfloor and seated him upon the pile as upon a throne.\n\nThe six Brethren now joined hands and began to dance round and round\nthe table, puffing volumes of smoke from their pipes as they went.\nFaster and wilder moved the dance, thicker and yellower whirled the\nsmoke-wreaths, and the six faces sped dizzily round the table, until\nit seemed to Yellow-cap as if he were encircled by a great ring of\nface, with one broad nose, one endless grinning mouth, and a single\nleering eye in the forehead.\n\nBy and by the room began to spin round also--such, at least, was\nYellow-cap's impression. Round and round it spun like a teetotum,\nmoving as fast as the dancers did, but in the opposite direction. The\nsmoke, driven together by these contrary motions, was whirled into a\nsort of hollow dome over Yellow-cap's head. The yellow light from the\nlamp shone upon that smoky dome, and its shape became defined more and\nmore distinctly, until at last it hung poised in air--a gigantic image\nof the very yellow cap which Yellow-cap wore.\n\nGradually it settled down lower and lower, as if to shut him in. He\ntried to rise from his tankard throne, but a heavy weight from above\nseemed to prevent him. And now, glaring upon him through the maze of\nflying phantoms, he saw the mirror of the Brethren, no longer black\nand lifeless, but fierce and flaming as the eye of a giant demon. And\nthrough the centre of that fiery pupil he saw the Brethren, one after\nanother, take a flying leap; not vanishing suddenly, but dwindling\naway, smaller and smaller, until they could be seen no more. Each as\nhe leaped threw back at Yellow-cap a malicious leer and beckoned to\nhim mockingly to follow. Gyp was the last; and as he sprang Yellow-cap\nwrenched himself from his throne--which fell behind him with a\ncrash--and strove to follow.\n\nBut the yellow cap of stifling smoke came down upon him and shut him\nin. He sank downwards, choking and gasping; and he heard, ringing\nthrough the heated air, a sound of laughter that reminded him of\nSilvia.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nON THE STAGE.\n\n\nYellow-cap opened his eyes, which felt dry and hot. It was indeed\nSilvia, who was laughing, and bidding him wake up, for it was past\neight o'clock in the morning. And where had Yellow-cap passed the\nnight? Underneath the table in the inn parlour, where that\nextraordinary meeting of the Seven Brethren had taken place. As\nYellow-cap got slowly to his feet he pressed both hands to his head,\nwhich felt like a newly-roasted chestnut, with the kernel loose\ninside; but the yellow cap was still fast about his brows. He longed\nto take it off and put his head under the pump; but that luxury, he\nknew, was now and hereafter forbidden him.\n\n'Where are the other fellows?' he asked, turning to Silvia. 'They\njumped through the fiery eye----'\n\n'Through what, your Lordship?' cried Silvia, opening her eyes very\nwide.\n\n'Through that,' said Yellow-cap, pointing to the end of the room where\nthe mysterious mirror hung. But, to his great perplexity, there was to\nbe seen there only a very common-place old looking-glass, made in\nthree compartments, and mounted in a tarnished frame. In the light of\nthe morning sun, which was pouring through the dusty window-panes, it\nlooked not at all like an eye, and it was absurd to suppose that\nanybody could have jumped through it.\n\n'Things always look so different in the morning,' remarked Silvia\ngood-humouredly. 'But, if it please your Lordship, I am sent by the\nBrethren to say that they are waiting for you in the front room.'\n\nYellow-cap felt not at all in the mood to lead a conspiracy; but still\nhe tried to put a good face upon the matter. 'Lead on!' said he; and\nSilvia opened the door and went before him across a small enclosed\nyard to another door, on which she tapped; and Yellow-cap, passing in,\nfound himself once more in the presence of his six friends. They were\neating devilled bones, and were dressed in long white dominoes. Each\nhad a playbook beside his plate, and they were apparently studying\ntheir parts for the morning performance.\n\n'Good morning! Fine day for the deposition,' said Gyp, acting as\nspokesman for the rest. 'Have a bone?'\n\n'I have no appetite,' replied Yellow-cap. 'Why are you all dressed in\nwhite?'\n\n'So that we may be the blacker inside,' said Ruba, looking up from his\nbook.\n\n'It is the court-dress of conspirators,' added Dubb.\n\n'We are clothed in the unwritten pages of history,' continued Dubsix.\n\n'We shall be red hereafter,' said Menin, archly.\n\n'Because we rose against the tyrant,' concluded Atub, with a sigh.\n\n'They are apt to be rather stupid at this hour in the morning,'\nremarked Gyp, turning to Yellow-cap, 'but they will get warmed to it\npresently. May I ask whether you are perfect in your part?'\n\n'I have not thought of any rhyme to \"Ormund,\"' said Yellow-cap.\n\n'Any rhyme will do,' Gyp went on; 'and perhaps the Home or the\nForeign Doggerel will be able to help you to one when the time comes.'\n\n'Brethren,' said Yellow-cap, clearing his throat, 'I propose we put\noff this affair until to-morrow. I don't feel at all well this\nmorning; and besides, a thing like this ought to be done after dark,\nnot in broad daylight.'\n\nHereupon the six Brethren looked at one another and gave a low\nwhistle; and after a pause Gyp said--\n\n'This day is the only day in the year on which conspiracies are\nallowed to take place, and they are not permitted later than ten\no'clock in the forenoon. But I may mention that the theatre is always\ndarkened, and is lighted by artificial means.'\n\n'I do not understand,' said Yellow-cap, 'how a conspiracy can succeed,\nif the people who are conspired against fix the time when it is to\ncome off.'\n\n'What sort of an audience should we get,' replied Gyp, 'if the date of\nthe performance was not advertised beforehand? We should find\nourselves playing to empty boxes. Besides, conspiracies are costly;\nand if----'\n\n'If you please,' said Silvia, opening the door, 'it is just upon nine\no'clock, and the donkey waits.'\n\n'We come!' said all the Brethren together, They rose up, put their\nplay-books in their pockets, and joining hands so as to form a circle,\nwith Gyp and Yellow-cap in the middle of it, they rapidly repeated\nfive times over the following mystic chant, Gyp beating time for them\nwith the forefinger of his right hand on the five fingers of his\nleft:--\n\n  Ruba--Dubb--Dubsix--Menin--Atub--Chorus--Gyp!\n\nThis having been duly performed, Gyp, with an air of great respect,\ntook Yellow-cap by the arm and led him out to the street, the other\nfive Brethren following behind. Yellow-cap, who had by this time\nalmost ceased feeling surprised at anything, did not find it\nespecially wonderful that the donkey which was in waiting was the same\non which he had ridden the evening before, and that its driver was the\nsame half-witted youth who had given him such useful information about\nthe passwords. This youth grinned and ducked his head when he saw\nYellow-cap, and held the stirrup for him to mount.\n\nAs Yellow-cap did so the thought occurred to him that perhaps he might\nget a chance to gallop away down some side-street, and so make his\nescape even at the last moment; for it must be confessed that he did\nnot feel much courage for this adventure. Much to his disappointment,\nhowever, no sooner was he in the saddle than the donkey-driver took\nhold of the donkey's bridle on one side and Silvia on the other; and\nin this way they set out.\n\n'Why are you coming with us, Silvia?' Yellow-cap asked, after they had\ngone a little way. 'Are you one of the conspirators?'\n\n'No, your Lordship, not exactly,' she replied; 'but I usually take the\npart of Columbine, and sometimes lead the ballet.'\n\n'So it's to be a pantomime, is it?' thought Yellow-cap. 'I wonder what\nthe grand transformation scene will be like?'\n\nThen he turned to the donkey-driver, who was plodding along with a\nvacant grin upon his features, and asked him what part he had to play.\n\n'Oh, please your Worship,' he replied, 'I'm to be the Clown; and that\nyoung woman,' pointing to Silvia, 'is to be my sweetheart, if I can\ncatch her.'\n\n'And I'm to be Harlequin, I suppose,' said Yellow-cap to himself.\n'Well, I'm sure I begin to feel like one.'\n\nMeanwhile they had entered the chief street of the town, which led to\nthe Drury Lane Theatre. This was a handsome building of white marble,\nwith columns and a sculptured frieze; it was the model which the\nGreeks long afterwards followed when they built their Parthenon. A\ngreat multitude of people were collected in front of the pit and\ngallery entrances; and when they caught sight of Yellow-cap they set\nup a great buzzing and murmuring, mingled with shouts and huzzas and\nwaving of hats and handkerchiefs.\n\n'There he is! that's him!' cried the people one to another. 'That's\nhim on the grey charger, with the captive prince and princess\na-leading of him along. Oh, ain't he a swell!'\n\n'Hurry up, guv'nor, or you'll be late!' shouted others; and indeed as\nYellow-cap looked up at the clock which was placed in the pediment of\nthe theatre he saw that it marked five minutes to ten.\n\n'Hadn't we better move a little faster?' he said anxiously to Silvia.\n'And how are we ever to get through all this crowd?'\n\n'Oh, we have time enough,' she answered very unconcernedly. 'And,\nsince we must go in by the stage-door, the crowd won't hinder us.'\n\nAs she spoke they turned down a narrow alley to the left, and soon\ncame to a small entrance in the side of the building. Through this the\ndonkey quietly walked, and up a flight of steps to an inner\npassageway. Before he knew where he was Yellow-cap found himself on an\nimmense stage, at the further side of which was standing King Ormund\nhimself, surrounded by a group of courtiers. The courtiers were all\nenveloped in long white dominoes, the sight of which caused Yellow-cap\nto look behind him with a sudden misgiving. He had supposed until this\nmoment that the six Brethren were following behind him; but he now\ndiscovered that, except for Silvia and the half-witted donkey-driver,\nhe was quite alone.\n\n'What has become of them?' he cried in dismay.\n\n'There they are,' said Silvia coolly, pointing to the group of\ncourtiers. 'Where else should they be?'\n\n'They have deserted me, then?'\n\n'Not at all; but as the conspiracy is all on your account it is only\nfair that you should take all the risks. If the conspiracy were to\nfail, and they were to have their heads cut off, there could be no\nconspiracy next year; but if only you are executed your cap would be\nsaved, and there would be no difficulty about finding some one else to\nwear it.'\n\n'Upon my word,' muttered Yellow-cap to himself rather angrily,\n'however this matter goes I am resolved that I will not lose my head\nbefore making those six rascals shake in their shoes. Courtiers\nindeed! We shall see.'\n\nAt this moment the curtain drew up and showed the vast audience\ncrowding every part of the theatre. A great clapping of hands and\nstamping of feet followed, and there were several catcalls and\nwhistlings from the pit and gallery. Almost every member of the\naudience was provided with a programme headed, '_Grand Annual\nPantomime: the Conspiracy_,' and containing a list of the performers.\nAttendants were also moving about hawking librettos of the dialogue.\nFamiliar though Yellow-cap had become with marvels, he could not help\nwondering how anybody could know what he was going to say. He\ncertainly did not know himself.\n\nThe audience had now become silent--not a sound was to be heard in the\ntheatre except the occasional rustle of a programme. Yellow-cap\ndismounted from his donkey, which remained on the stage in the care of\nthe driver, and walked towards the King. His Majesty was eyeing him\nvery closely. The great clock outside the building struck ten. The\nKing and Yellow-cap saluted each other, and Yellow-cap said--\n\n'I hope I have not kept your Majesty waiting.'\n\n'Not at all,' the monarch replied. 'But, stay! surely I cannot be\nmistaken. Are not you the gallant prince whom I had the pleasure of\nmeeting yesterday, and who vanished so strangely just when we were\nabout to exchange hats?'\n\n'Your Majesty's memory is not at fault,' Yellow-cap answered.\n\n'Bless my soul! my dear fellow,' the King exclaimed with much\nheartiness, 'allow me to give you a hug!'\n\nAt this there was a great outburst of applause from the audience,\nwhich his Majesty acknowledged by bowing and smiling. After it was\nover he continued--\n\n'And now tell me, where on earth did you vanish to? I could have sworn\nyou were beside me--when, almost while I was looking at you, you were\ngone; and in your place was a dirty, impertinent varlet who tried to\nsnatch my crown out of my very hands.'\n\n'Indeed. An audacious fellow, truly!'\n\n'Ah, but he got his deserts. Ha! I flatter myself he will never again\ntry _that_ game. No, by my faith!'\n\n'What did you do to him?'\n\n'I grappled with him, and, after a tremendous struggle, I managed to\nget him by the throat and bowed him backwards to the earth. I say \"to\nthe earth,\" because the villains who should have upheld my platform\nhad let it fall. Never mind--I had all their heads before\nsupper-time.'\n\n'And the robber?'\n\n'There was not much left of him,' replied his Majesty, with a hearty\nlaugh. 'After I had strangled him I flung his carcass to my retainers,\nwho made mincemeat of it in no time. But all this is by the way. You\nhave not told me what became of you.'\n\nNow, Yellow-cap had a good imagination; and seeing that the King had\nmade up a clever story, he resolved to do his best to tell another as\ngood.\n\n'Your Majesty must know,' he said, 'that among my other modest gifts I\ninclude that of making myself invisible at pleasure and transporting\nmyself to distant places by the force of a wish. Just at the moment\nwhen we were about to exchange hats I happened to remember that I had\nimportant business elsewhere; and since I had a long way to go, and\nvery little time to go in, I was obliged to leave your Majesty without\nceremony. But, as you see, I have lost no time in again presenting\nmyself before you.'\n\nThere was a round of applause at this speech, but neither so long nor\nso loud as at that of the King.\n\n'I hope we may not again be parted,' said his Majesty graciously. 'In\nfact, I really don't know what I should have done without you.'\n\nHere Yellow-cap felt a gentle pull at his sleeve, and looking round he\nsaw that Silvia was holding out to him a small slip of paper. He took\nit from her, and read the following words which had been written upon\nit:--\n\n'A rhyme to King Ormund.'\n\nThe King had noticed this transaction, and immediately asked--\n\n'What have you got there?'\n\n'A rhyme to King Ormund,' replied Yellow-cap, repeating the words\nwhich he had read without thinking of the effect they might have upon\nhis hearer. But the audience took the point immediately, and the\nclapping of hands and stamping were this time both loud and long.\n\nAnd now something happened which Yellow-cap could not at first\nunderstand. The King hummed-and-hah'ed and looked rather embarrassed,\nbut said nothing, and by and by began searching in his pockets as if\nhe had mislaid something. The audience saw that something was wrong,\nand catcalls and whistling and impertinent remarks were heard from all\nparts of the house. The King turned red, and stood first on one foot\nand then on another; and at last he muttered between his teeth--\n\n'I'll have that prompter's head cut off!'\n\n'If your Majesty will allow me,' said Silvia, coming forward, 'I can\ntell you what comes next.' And she whispered a few words in his ear.\n\n'Ah! of course--of course!' exclaimed the King, looking much relieved.\n'I have had hardly any time to study my part; and I hope,' he added,\nturning to the audience, 'that you will excuse me.' 'Go it, old boy!'\nsang out somebody from the gallery. The King pulled down his ruffles\nand went on.\n\n'\"A rhyme to King Ormund, eh?\" Dear me! Then you are one of the\nconspirators?'\n\n'I have that honour,' replied Yellow-cap. 'In fact, I am the chief of\nthem; and I can, if you like, tell you the names of the others,' he\nadded, glancing at the Prime Maniac and his companions.\n\n'You must not say that,' said Silvia in a low voice, twitching his\nsleeve again; 'it isn't in your part.'\n\n'I shall take my own part,' returned Yellow-cap, loud enough to be\nheard all over the theatre, 'and do what I like with it.'\n\n'That's the talk!' called out a man from the pit. 'Give it 'em,\nyoungster, and we'll see fair play.'\n\n'Well, you have got the best of me,' said the King, shrugging his\nshoulders good-humouredly, 'and I have only one regret.'\n\n'What may that be?' Yellow-cap inquired.\n\n'Only that, since you _have_ got the best of me, I am prevented from\nenjoying the pleasure I had looked forward to of making you my\nsuccessor. But, after all, it comes to the same thing in the end--for\nyou, at any rate. And things being as they are, of course they could\nnot be otherwise. Come--despatch!' And so saying the venerable monarch\nwrapped his mantle round his head and struck an heroic attitude.\n\n'What are you waiting for? Let him have it!' whispered Silvia at\nYellow-cap's elbow.\n\nBut Yellow-cap thought there was no need of hurrying; so he put the\nbit of paper in his pocket and said, gently pulling the King's mantle\nfrom before his face--\n\n'My dear King, pray let us understand each other. I am sure that we\ncan manage this thing without any trouble to either of us. As you\nyourself say, what need is there for me to be a usurper, if I can be a\nsuccessor?'\n\n'Ah, it's very kind of you to think of that,' replied the King,\nshaking his head; 'but I couldn't be guilty of such inhospitality as\nto hinder a stranger from carrying out so capital a plot. No--say no\nmore. I see how it is. You have taken a great deal of trouble about\nthis conspiracy, and so far you have managed it very well. I shall not\ninterfere with your triumph for the sake of a selfish whim of my own.\nNever, my dear boy, never! My spirit is too royal to stoop to such\nmeanness. And I think it unkind of you to expect such a thing of me;\nand if you don't stop it I shall have to tell the executioner to cut\noff your head.'\n\n'That last argument of yours is a strong one, and rather than drive\nyou to such extremities I would let you have it your own way,' said\nYellow-cap. 'But still I think this affair can be arranged. All I\nwant, you see, is to sit on your throne; to make a rhyme to your name,\nand to trample you under the feet of the metrical system. Have nothing\nto do with that. Come, oblige me this once, and I will do as much for\nyou the next time.'\n\nThe King stroked his long white beard thoughtfully.\n\n'The fact is,' he said at length, 'I am rather in a muddle about the\nwhole business. If it had been a simple pantomime I could have seen\nthrough it; but this combination of two rival performances in one is\nbeyond me. Let me consider. Hum! Ha! I have it. Let us draw lots from\nthe donkey!'\n\n'Draw lots from the donkey?' repeated Yellow-cap, puzzled in his turn.\n\n'To be sure--the way we always do it--draw lots of hair, you know,\nfrom the donkey's tail,' continued his Majesty, brightening up, and\nturning back the ruffles from his wrists. 'The way it is done is this:\nwe each of us in turn pull out a handful; and the one that makes the\ndonkey kick first wins the match.'\n\n'Very well,' said Yellow-cap, 'I agree, on condition that you take the\nfirst pull.'\n\n'Such courtesy shows the true prince,' replied the King, with a\npleased smile. 'I accept the favour as frankly as it was offered. Ho!\nfellows, back the animal round there--give him plenty of room to\nkick--so. Now, then, my lords and gentlemen, make a circle round us,\nand mark his tail with care. And do you, Mr. Chancellor of the\nJingle, act as umpire.'\n\nEverything having been thus arranged, and amidst a pause of breathless\ninterest, his Transparent Majesty King Ormund, Emperor of Great\nBritain, France, and Ireland, and Defender of the Faith, advanced on\ntiptoe towards the donkey, who, not suspecting what was to come, stood\nwith its hind quarters turned to him, its head being held fast by the\nhalf-witted driver.\n\nWhen within about two feet of the donkey's heels the monarch stopped,\nand stretching out his arm, he grasped with his hand the long tuft of\nhair which grew at the end of the animal's tail. Then by a sudden\nmotion he gave it such a tug as might almost have fetched the tail\nitself out by the roots.\n\nWithout an instant's delay the donkey kicked out as if it wanted to\nput its hoofs through the skylight in the roof of the theatre; but,\nKing Ormund's stomach happening to be in the way, that potentate was\nlifted from the ground and made to pass through the air in a graceful\ncurve. He came down upon the upturned face of the Chancellor of the\nJingle (who was too busy with his duties as umpire to notice his\ndanger) and flattened him out upon the stage in such a way as to make\nit quite impossible for him to give his decision.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nAN ABSOLUTE MONARCH.\n\n\nUpon this tableau the curtain came down; but the applause was really\nso deafening that all the performers--including, of course, the King\nand the donkey--had to come out and pass before the footlights: when\nthe donkey got a bouquet, and the King a bunch of turniptops. They\nthen returned to the stage and took their places as before, and the\ncurtain went up again.\n\nDuring several seconds the King lay quite still, with the Chancellor\nunderneath him; and Yellow-cap began to feel uneasy, for he reflected\nthat if the King should lie still permanently his own position might\nbecome awkward. He spoke of this in a low tone to Silvia, who was\ncoquetting with her sweetheart the donkey-driver across the donkey's\nback.\n\n'No need to be alarmed, your Lordship,' replied she composedly. 'His\nMajesty is only a little out of breath. The stomach of an hereditary\nmonarch is, you know, the strongest thing about him. He will be all\nright directly.'\n\nIn fact, hardly had she done speaking when the King gave a cough and\nraised himself to a sitting posture. He really seemed none the worse\nfor what had happened; in spite of which Yellow-cap could not help\nfeeling glad that he had not been in the King's place.\n\n'Where is the Chancellor of the Jingle?' demanded the King as soon as\nhe could speak. 'Why does he not come forward and give his judgment as\numpire? Where is he, I say? By my crown and sceptre if he does not\nappear and answer this instant I will have his head cut off!'\n\n'Pardon me, my dear sir,' said Yellow-cap, 'if I say that the\nChancellor would probably have given his judgment before now, if you\nhad not yourself put difficulties in the way of his doing so. You are\nat this moment sitting upon the man's face, and it would therefore be\nimpossible if not disrespectful for him to say anything until your\nMajesty has arisen. If you will let me pull you up he will be ready\nto obey your commands--unless,' he added aside to Silvia, 'he is\nactually crushed to death.'\n\n'No fear of that,' Silvia replied cheerfully. 'The face of a real\nChancellor of the Jingle is the most impenetrable thing about him; and\nI have no doubt that he is smiling at this very minute.'\n\nAnd in fact hardly had the King raised himself erect than the\nChancellor jumped to his feet, with a most charming smile; and having\nbowed to the King, to Yellow-cap, and to the audience, he spoke\nthus:--\n\n'In the drawing of lots his Transparent Majesty King Ormund has been\nsuccessful; and therefore his Royal Highness Prince Yellow-cap has won\nthe wager.'\n\n'Capital--capital!' exclaimed the King, rubbing his hands and stamping\nabout the stage gleefully. 'But you,' he added, turning to the\nChancellor of the Jingle, 'must, of course, have your head cut off\njust the same.'\n\nAt this a couple of halberdiers approached and laid their hands on the\nculprit's shoulders.\n\nYellow-cap had at first thought that to lose his head would serve the\nChancellor only right; but, as he was averse to bloodshed, and as his\nown affairs seemed to be going on so prosperously, he resolved to be\nmerciful.\n\n'Allow me a word,' he said. 'Since I have won the wager I thereby\nsucceed to King Ormund's throne and sceptre, and by virtue of the\npower in me vested I do hereby extend to the Chancellor my royal\nclemency. Loose him, halberdiers, on your allegiance!'\n\nThe halberdiers hesitated; and King Ormund, stroking his beard\nmeditatively, said, 'I'm not sure about this. You haven't been crowned\nyet, you know.'\n\n'At all events I am as much king as anybody here,' Yellow-cap replied\nfirmly. 'And meanwhile I advise anybody who cares to keep his head on\nhis shoulders to obey my commands.'\n\n'I'll tell you what we might do,' exclaimed the King brightly: 'we\nmight draw lots----'\n\n'No; I refuse to leave affairs of State to chance. But, in order to\noblige you in every way I can, I will appoint the Chancellor of the\nJingle referee. He shall decide whether or not his head is to be cut\noff; and I promise to abide by his decision.'\n\n'Hum!' said the King. 'Ha! well, that certainly does seem fair.\nBesides, one must have some consideration for the poor donkey. I\nagree, then. Now, Mr. Chancellor, what is your decision?'\n\n'My head stays where it is, please your Majesty,' replied the\nChancellor promptly.\n\n'It's astonishing what a run of luck you are having!' exclaimed the\nKing, turning to Yellow-cap, with a sigh of admiration. 'Pray, are you\nas fortunate in love as you seem to be in everything else?'\n\nAt this question there rose in Yellow-cap's mind the picture of a\nlittle square room, with bright walls and clean sanded floor; a churn\nin one corner, and a brightly polished tin pan upon the dresser in\nplace of a looking-glass. In this room stood a lovely young girl, with\ntears in her eyes, but a smile dimpling her rosy cheeks. She was\nlooking up with a loving glance at a young man, who was fastening\nround her neck, by a bit of ribbon, the half of a spade guinea.\nYellow-cap passed his hand over his eyes: the picture had vanished.\n\n'What are you dreaming about?' said the voice of Silvia in his ear.\n'The half of a brass farthing is just as good, if you will only think\nso. And you have not yet answered his Majesty's question.'\n\n'Ah! I beg pardon,' muttered Yellow-cap. 'I--what did you say?\nI--yes--that is--no! No, I am not so fortunate in love as I seem to be\nin other things. Ah me! Rosamund!'\n\n'Well, well,' said the King, with a particularly arch look, 'I dare\nsay we shall be able to do you a good turn in that way too.'\n\n'Is this the place where kings are crowned?' demanded Yellow-cap.\n\n'Certainly; where else could it be?' returned the King.\n\n'Then I will be crowned this moment,' said Yellow-cap in the\ncommanding tone which he had found it best to use towards these London\npeople. 'Is there an Archbishop present? And let somebody fetch a\nthrone!'\n\n'Here is the throne, please your Worship,' said the half-witted youth,\nleading forward the donkey.\n\n'And here is the Archbishop, at your service,' said one of the persons\nin the white dominoes, making a bow.\n\n'That won't do,' said Yellow-cap sharply. 'You are the Prime\nManiac--only you have shaved your moustachios.'\n\n'That makes all the difference, please your Highness,' replied the\nother humbly.\n\n'And now I look at you again,' continued Yellow-cap, 'I think I\nremember you before you were a Prime Maniac. I remember you when you\nwere only three feet high.'\n\n'It is all the same,' answered the other again. 'I rise to the\noccasion.'\n\n'Well, it makes no difference, I suppose,' said Yellow-cap, after a\npause, bestriding the donkey's back. 'Now for the crown!'\n\nKing Ormund took the crown from his brow and handed it to the\nArchbishop, who put it on Yellow-cap's head, over the yellow cap. Then\nall the courtiers round about murmured their congratulations, the\naudience that filled the theatre shouted 'Hooray!' and 'Encore!' the\nex-King clapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Bless you, my boy!' and\nSilvia whispered in his ear, 'Now you are King!'\n\n'Long live King Yellow-cap!' roared everybody.\n\n'How do you like it?' asked Ormund pleasantly.\n\n'I feel about as I did before,' replied the new King, in a slightly\ndisappointed tone. 'How much does this crown weigh? Haven't you a\nlighter one?'\n\n'No; and you won't find that one grow any lighter,' said Ormund, with\na chuckle. 'But if you don't feel any difference I do! I am ten years\nyounger already. I am positively light-headed.'\n\n'Well, at all events I am a King!' said Yellow-cap.\n\n'And now,' observed Ormund, rubbing his hands and glancing at Silvia,\n'since the coronation is over, what do you say to our having the\nwedding?'\n\n'Yes--yes; the wedding!' echoed all the courtiers.\n\nSilvia arranged the ribbon at her throat, looked coquettishly at King\nYellow-cap, and murmured in his ear--\n\n'What says your Majesty? There is no time like the present.'\n\n'Wedding!' repeated King Yellow-cap, turning from one to another.\n'Whose wedding?'\n\n'Whose but your own, gracious liege!' replied the courtiers.\n\n'My own! Nonsense! Whom should I marry?'\n\n'Whom but Silvia, most puissant prince?' said the courtiers again.\n\n'Silvia? Why, she is barmaid at the inn! And besides, she is engaged\nto marry somebody else.'\n\n'Ah, you mean the Prince of Sprats,' remarked the ex-King. 'But that\nmatch is broken off. Since you are on the throne he is in opposition,\nand can only be considered a pretender; but Silvia is a princess of\nthe blood, cousin-german of the dynasty, and Columbine into the\nbargain; so she can marry nobody but you.'\n\n'That fellow who owns the donkey the Prince of Sprats?' cried\nYellow-cap. 'He the son of King Ormund?'\n\n'Prince Assimund--yes. I spoke to you of him yesterday. A little queer\nin the head, you know, but that is only a sign of his royalty.'\n\n'All this may be so,' replied Yellow-cap, stroking his chin; 'but as\nto my marrying Silvia--that seems rather sudden.'\n\n'Not more sudden than agreeable, if I were in your place,' observed\nthe ex-King, with a twinkle in his eye which made the pit laugh.\n\n'Besides,' continued Yellow-cap, 'I have an indistinct notion that\nonce--somewhere--I loved--but, no! What with the cap and crown\ntogether I can remember nothing. And perhaps Silvia may be she, after\nall; she looks something like her; but yet----'\n\n'If your Majesty will let me hang this half of a brass farthing round\nyour neck,' interrupted Silvia, 'you will have no more doubts about\nthe matter.' And as she spoke she held the farthing towards him, with\na mischievous smile.\n\n'But don't you care at all for Assimund?' he asked her.\n\n'The interests of the State are supreme,' returned Silvia with a grand\nair.\n\n'Well, if I must, I must,' said King Yellow-cap rather ungraciously.\n'But I thought the Kings of England could do what they pleased.'\n\n'Oh, dear, no,' exclaimed the Archbishop, 'Magna Charta forbid!'\n\n'Then I wish----' began Yellow-cap.\n\nBut he paused. What had he left to wish? He stretched out his hand to\ntake the half of the brass farthing.\n\nAt that moment there was a great noise and confusion at the back of\nthe stage, and half the audience sprang to their feet, supposing that\nthe theatre had caught fire. But out of the confusion was dragged\nforward a sort of cart, in which a number of persons were seated, with\nveils over their faces, and their hands tied behind their backs.\nYellow-cap saw that one of these persons was a woman.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTHE GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE.\n\n\n'What is that? What people are those in the cart?' demanded\nYellow-cap, rising in his stirrups to get a better view.\n\n'Please your Majesty they are prisoners of State,' said the Home\nDoggerel, who had turned rather pale. 'It is quite a mistake their\ncoming here; they should have been taken to another theatre. However,\nsince they are here your Majesty cannot do better than sign their\ndeath-warrant. I have a pen and ink here; or, if your Majesty happens\nnot to know how to sign your name, I can----'\n\n'Hold your tongue,' interrupted Yellow-cap sharply. He was looking\nvery hard at the veiled figure of the woman. After a pause he said--\n\n'Before signing my name (which I am perfectly able to do) to the\ndeath-warrant I will know what crime these persons have committed.\nTell them to come nearer, that I may question them.'\n\n'Sire,' exclaimed the Home Doggerel, in evident dismay, 'the law of\nEngland does not permit an accused person to be questioned.'\n\n'Why not?'\n\n'Because it might lead to a discovery.'\n\n'What discovery?'\n\n'The discovery of the truth, Sire; and where would you and all of us\nbe then?'\n\nAt this a man in the pit began to hiss, and the police tried to take\nhim into custody; but they could not find out his address, and\ntherefore let him alone.\n\n'Where would we be indeed!' murmured King Yellow-cap thoughtfully.\n'Nevertheless,' he continued, again fixing his eyes upon the veiled\nwoman, 'I am resolved to question these people; and this pantomime\nshall not go on until I have done so.'\n\n'I humbly beg your Majesty to think what you are about,' said the Lord\nPrivy Gander in an agitated tone; 'you are in danger not only of\nhearing the truth but of violating etiquette.'\n\n'It might bring about a reform,' added the First Lord of the Seesaw,\nwith a shudder.\n\n'At all events let the woman be condemned unheard,' said Silvia. 'She\nlooks dangerous, and may intend to do your Majesty some harm.'\n\n'Be silent, everyone!' thundered King Yellow-cap at the top of his\nvoice. 'I say I will hear these persons, and I will hear the woman\nfirst. Stop--where is the Headsman?'\n\n'Here I be, your Majesty, quite at your service,' said the Headsman,\nshouldering through the crowd, and saluting the young King with his\naxe. He was an immensely strong man, seven feet high, with short red\nhair standing up over his head, and a butcher's apron tied on in front\nof him.\n\n'Headsman,' said the King, 'if anyone stirs or says a word except by\nmy leave, off with his head! Do you understand?'\n\nFor answer the Headsman tossed his terrible axe high up in the air,\ncaught it lightly as it came down, and then, swinging it round his\nhead, he cut off the tall feather that was fastened in the cap of the\nChancellor of the Jingle. An inch more would have buried the blade in\nhis skull.\n\n'Very good,' said King Yellow-cap; 'I see you know your business. Now,\nthen, bring me hither that cart. Let the woman come down.'\n\nAmidst a total silence, during which the Headsman was seen to feel the\nedge of his axe with his thumb--keeping his right eye upon King\nYellow-cap the while, and the left upon the Home Doggerel--the veiled\nwoman got down from the cart and came forward to the donkey which\nserved the King as a throne. Here she dropped a curtsey.\n\nKing Yellow-cap gazed steadfastly upon her for several moments. The\nblack veil still hung before her face, but round her neck was visible\na bit of pink ribbon.\n\n'Who are you?' he asked at last.\n\n'I am a village maiden, Sire,' she answered in a voice so sweet and\nclear that it was heard all over the theatre.\n\n'Of what crime are you accused?'\n\n'Of high treason, Sire.'\n\n'In what way did you commit it?'\n\nAt this question the Home Doggerel and the other members of the\nCabinet made a movement as if they wished to step behind the scenes;\nbut King Yellow-cap noticed it, and in an awful voice he cried out--\n\n'Headsman!'\n\n'Ready, your Majesty,' said that officer, poising his axe to strike.\n\n'One step more,' said the King, turning to the six courtiers, 'and\nyour heads fly into the pit. Keep your axe poised,' he added to the\nHeadsman.\n\n'Right you are, young man!' said the person in the pit whom the police\nhad tried to arrest for hissing. 'Right you are, Master Yellow-cap;\nyou're just about the sort of king I goes in for, and so I tells you.'\n\n'And now go on with your story,' said the King to the veiled woman.\n\n'May it please your Majesty,' she replied, 'the way it happened was\nthis. As I was taking the butter out of my churn yesterday afternoon\nthere came into my dairy-room an ugly little long-armed man, with a\nhook nose and a great pair of moustachios. I asked him what he wanted,\nand he said that he wanted me, and that I had promised to marry him.'\n\n'Ha!' said King Yellow-cap. 'And what did you say to that?'\n\n'I was very indignant, Sire,' said the maiden, 'because I had that\nvery day promised to wed a young man of our own village, whom I had\nknown and loved for many years. But this ugly dwarf said, \"You belong\nto me; and to prove it, here is the other half of the spade guinea\nthat is hanging round your neck!\" Now, Sire, when I parted with the\nyoung man whom I love he had cut his spade guinea in two, and each of\nus had kept half, for a sign by which, as he said, we might know each\nother when we met, no matter what changes had come over us in the\nmeantime. So, when I saw the token in this dwarf's hand, I feared my\nlover was dead, because I knew that no enchantment could make him look\nlike the dwarf, and I could not believe that he would have given up\nhis half of our spade guinea while he had life enough left to guard\nit.'\n\n'Might your lover not have given it up for something that seemed to\nhim more precious?' asked the young King in a tremulous voice.\n\n'No,' said the maiden firmly, 'for he loved me, and nothing in this\nworld is so precious as love.'\n\n'Go on with your story,' said the King.\n\n'There is little more to tell, please your Majesty. I told the dwarf\nto be gone; but he threw his arms round me and tried to carry me away.\nThen I screamed out, and all the young men in the village ran up, and\nthere was a great fight. Then the dwarf said that he was the Lord High\nSheepstealer of England, and that he arrested us all for high treason.\nSo he bound us and tied veils over our faces, and brought us prisoners\nto London; and this morning we were carried hither in this cart.'\n\n'And what do you wish me to do for you?' asked the King.\n\n'I do not much care what becomes of me, Sire,' replied the maiden,\n'for I fear my lover is dead, and if he is, then all the love I had\nfor the world is dead with him. But if your Majesty would find out\nwhether he still lives and loves me I will thank you more than for my\nlife, and I will be content to die.'\n\n'You shall have your wish,' said the King, 'though I fear your lover\nis not worthy of you. But first your eyes shall be unveiled, and you\nshall tell me whether, amidst this assembly, you can find the man who\ncalled himself the Lord High Sheepstealer of England.'\n\nAnd now a wonderful thing happened.\n\nWhen the six courtiers, in their white dominoes, heard the command of\nthe King that the maiden's eyes should be unveiled they all got behind\none another, and cowered down, shaking in their shoes. And when the\nmaiden's glance rested on them they cowered down still more, as if\nthey were trying to hide their heads in their necks and their necks in\ntheir shoulders. Still they shrivelled and shrunk, until they no\nlonger appeared like six tall courtiers, but like half a dozen ugly\nlittle dwarfs, barely three feet high. And when they saw how small\nthey had become they uttered a cry of terror, and seemed to rush into\none another's arms. And with that--though how it came about would be\nimpossible to say--there stood only a single dwarf, a great deal\nstouter and uglier than the six, but with precisely the same cast of\nfeatures and general appearance.\n\n'That is the creature that called itself the Lord High Sheepstealer\nof England,' said the maiden.\n\n'What have you to say for yourself, sirrah?' said the King sternly.\n\n'Mercy! spare my life!' cried the dwarf, falling on his knees. 'And\nbethink yourself that we are brothers, and that in destroying me you\nwould unmake yourself.'\n\n'That is the very thing that decides me to show you no mercy,'\nanswered King Yellow-cap. 'I am sick of all this stage-play.'\n\n'Have a care what you do, Sire,' said Silvia, with a frown on her\nface, which looked much older and less pretty than it had done\nhitherto. 'He is your brother, and you are bound to him by the vows of\nthe Order.'\n\n'I shall know how to break those bonds,' Yellow-cap replied. 'In the\nfirst place, let my guards loose all the prisoners who are in the cart\nand let them go free.'\n\nWhen this had been done he turned to the village maiden.\n\n'Get up behind me on the donkey,' he said, 'and put your arms round my\nwaist.'\n\nThe maiden obeyed, the donkey standing quite still, and not so much as\nmoving the end of its tail.\n\n'Now let Assimund, Prince of Sprats, approach,' said the King.\n\n'People of England,' he then continued, facing the audience, 'I have\nbeen King over you for half an hour, and I have had enough of it. But,\nbefore abdicating, I will place the crown on brows worthier to wear it\nthan mine. Behold Prince Assimund, no longer a pretender, but to be\nhereafter your absolute and legitimate monarch. And behold Silvia, his\nfitting queen and consort, whose hand I place in his.' He suited the\naction to the word, and then, removing the crown, he set it upon\nAssimund's head.\n\nBut the audience murmured, and seemed dissatisfied; and Silvia smiled\nmaliciously; and even the dwarf, over whom the Headsman was standing\nwith uplifted axe, showed his teeth in an ugly grin.\n\n'Silence!' shouted Yellow-cap. 'I have not yet done.\nHeadsman--strike!'\n\nDown came the heavy axe; and everyone thought that the dwarf must be\ncloven asunder from head to foot. But before the axe could reach him\nthere was no dwarf there. Whether he melted into nothing, or whether\nhe disappeared down one of those trap-doors which are to be found in\nevery stage, or what else became of him, will probably never be known.\nAt all events the blade of the axe came down upon the bare boards and\nburied itself six inches deep in the wood, and no dwarf was there, but\nonly the glittering half of a spade guinea, strung on a broken thread\nof silk. This the Headsman placed in Yellow-cap's hand, and he hid it\nin his bosom.\n\n'He lives still!' said Silvia, smiling again.\n\n'But he will never again cross my path,' replied Yellow-cap. 'King\nAssimund,' he added, 'accept my parting gift before I go. With this\nand with your crown, and with Silvia to whisper worldly wisdom in your\near, it will be your own fault if you are not the mightiest sovereign\nin Christendom.'\n\nSo saying he snatched off the yellow cap from his own black locks and\nclapped it down upon Assimund's foolish poll. At the same moment he\nfelt the arms of the village maiden tighten round his waist.\n\nHe struck his heels into the donkey's sides and shook the rein. The\ndonkey kicked up its heels, and seemed to spring bodily off the stage.\nYellow-cap (but he was now Yellow-cap no longer) had a momentary\nglimpse of Assimund, now wearing an aspect of imperial magnificence,\nof Silvia, frowning and biting her lip, and of the whole great\naudience standing up and shouting; and then he had a feeling of\npassing rapidly through the air he knew not whither....\n\nHe came down very softly.\n\nIt was high noon. They were in the meadow beside the river. The donkey\nwas feeding quietly near at hand; Raymond had fallen on his knees in\nthe grass, and Rosamund was standing before him.\n\n'Oh, Rosamund,' he said, 'you are my kingdom! Will you take me back?'\n\n'You have been a very naughty boy,' she replied, 'and you deserve a\nscolding. But come home first and have some milk, for you must be\nhungry.'\n\nRaymond looked up at her. She was more lovely than ever. There was a\nsparkle of laughter in her eyes and a beautiful blush in her cheeks.\nBeyond her rose the thatched roofs of Honeymead, overshadowed by the\ngreat lime-trees; the birds were singing, and the sky was blue.\n\n'Come--do get up!' exclaimed Rosamund. 'Now that you belong to me you\nmust give up these mooning dreamy ways of yours and behave sensibly.\nCome--make haste! Armand, and Dorimund, and all the rest of them have\nbeen invited, and our betrothal is to be formally announced.'\n\n'How strange all this sounds!' said Raymond, getting to his feet in a\nbewildered way. 'You almost make me think that I have been----'\n\nBefore he could finish his sentence the donkey lifted its head and\ntail in the air and sent forth a long-drawn reproachful bray.\n\n'Ah! no, it was real--I have not been dreaming,' Raymond said. 'If it\nhad not been for that donkey where should we be now?'\n\n'How stupid you are to-day--muttering to yourself like that!' cried\nRosamund, briskly. 'Anyone would think you had a headache.'\n\n'And so I had--a very bad one,' said Raymond.\n\nRosamund became tender immediately.\n\n'Oh, my poor love!' murmured she. 'And what a horrid red mark that is\nround your forehead, as if you had been wearing a cap that was too\ntight for you. Stoop down a little--let me kiss it. There, does that\nfeel better?'\n\n'A great deal better,' Raymond answered, with a long sigh.\n\nSo they went back, hand in hand, through the meadow. The breeze came\nfresh and sweet upon their faces; they smelt the fragrance of the\nbreath of cows. As they approached their home they walked more and\nmore slowly. Rosamund was humming a little song to herself; she was as\nhappy as a bird.\n\nBut Raymond was silent, and pondered many things.\n\n\n\n\nRUMPTY-DUDGET.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE PALACE AND THE TOWER.\n\n\nIn the days before the sun caught fire, before the moon froze up, and\nbefore you were born, a great queen had three children, whose names\nwere Hilda, Harold, and Hector. Princess Hilda, who was the eldest,\nhad blue eyes and golden hair; Prince Hector, who was the youngest,\nhad black eyes and black hair; and Prince Harold, who was neither the\nyoungest nor the eldest, had, of course, brown eyes and brown hair.\nThere was nothing else specially remarkable about them, except that\nthey were (at the time I write of) the best children in the world, as\nwell as the prettiest and the cleverest for their age; that they lived\nin the most beautiful palace ever built, and that the garden they\nplayed in was the loveliest ever seen.\n\nThe palace stood on the borders of a mighty forest, on the further\nside of which lay Fairyland. But there was only one window in the\npalace that looked out upon this forest, and that was the round window\nof the room in which Hilda, Harold, and Hector slept. And since the\nround window was never open except at night, after the three children\nhad been put to bed, they knew very little about how the forest\nlooked, or what kind of flowers grew there, or what sort of birds sang\nin the dark branches of the lofty trees. Sometimes, however, as they\nlay with their three heads on their three pillows, and with all their\neyes open, waiting for the Spirit of Forgetfulness to come and fasten\ndown their eyelids, they would see stars, white, blue, and red,\ntwinkling in the sky overhead; and below, amongst the gloomy shadows\nof the trees, other yellow stars which danced about and flitted to and\nfro. These flitting stars were supposed by grown-up people to be\nwill-o'-the-wisp, jack-o'-lanterns, fire-flies, and glow-worms. But\nthe three children knew them to be the torches borne by the elves as\nthey capered hither and thither about their affairs. For although the\nForest of Mystery (as it was named) was not, strictly speaking, in\nFairyland, but formed the boundary between that and the rest of the\nworld, yet many fairies held nightly revels there. The children wished\nthat a few of these tiny people would come in through the round window\nsome evening and pay them a visit. But if such a thing ever happened\nit was not until after the children had fallen asleep; and then, when\nthey woke up in the morning, they had forgotten all about it.\n\nThe garden was on the side of the palace opposite to the Forest of\nMystery; it was called the Garden of Delight. It was full of flowers,\npink, white, and blue; and there were birds, and fountains, in the\nmarble basins of which gold-fishes glowed and swam. In the centre of\nthe garden was a round green lawn for the children to play on; but at\nthe end of the garden was a tall thick hedge, on which no blossoms\never grew, and which was prickly with sharp-pointed leaves and thorns.\nThis hedge also had a name, but the children did not know what it was.\nIt was impossible either to get round the hedge, or to get over it, or\nto get through it--except in one place, where a small opening had been\nmade. But through that opening no one might pass, for the land on the\nother side belonged to a dwarf, whose name was Rumpty-Dudget, and\nwhose only pleasure lay in doing mischief. An ugly little dwarf he\nwas, all grey from head to foot. He wore a broad-brimmed grey hat, a\nthick grey beard, and a grey cloak that was so much too long for him\nthat it trailed on the ground like a grey tail as he walked. On his\nback was a grey hump, which made him look even shorter than he\nwas--and he was not much over a foot high at his tallest. He lived in\na large grey tower, whose battlements the three children could see\nrising above the hedge as they played on the round lawn; and over the\ntower there hung, even in the brightest weather, a dull grey cloud.\n\nInside the tower was a vast room with a hundred and one corners to it;\nand in each of the corners stood a little child, with its face to the\nwall and its hands behind its back. Who were the children, and how\ncame they there? They were children, whom Rumpty-Dudget had caught\ntrespassing on his grounds, and had therefore carried away with him to\nhis tower. In this way he had filled up one corner after another,\nuntil only one corner was left unfilled; and that one, curiously\nenough, was the one-hundred-and-first. Now, it was a well-known fact\nthat if Rumpty-Dudget could but catch a child to put it in that one\nempty corner he would become master of all the country round about.\nAnd since he loved nothing that was not of the same colour and temper\nas himself, the noble palace would in that case disappear, the garden\nwould be changed into a desert covered with grey stones and brambles,\nand the dull grey cloud that now hung above the tower would sullenly\nspread itself over all the heavens. The mighty Forest of Mystery, too,\nwould be cut down and sold for firewood; and the elves and fairies\nwould fly westward in pursuit of the flying sun. You may be sure,\ntherefore, that Rumpty-Dudget tried with all his might to get hold of\na child to put into that hundred-and-first corner. But by this time\nthe inhabitants of the country had begun to realise their danger; and\nall the mothers were so careful, and all the children were so\nobedient, that, for a long time, the hundred-and-first corner remained\nempty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE AUNT, THE CAT, AND THE DWARF.\n\n\nWhen Hilda, Harold, and Hector were still very young indeed the Queen,\ntheir mother, was obliged to make a long journey to a far-off country,\nand to leave her children behind her. But before going she took them\nin her arms and said, 'My darlings, though I must leave you, you will\nnot be left alone, either by night or by day. While you are awake you\nwill be protected by a beautiful white cat that I shall send to you,\nnamed Tom; and while you are asleep your fairy aunt will keep watch\nover you; you will not see her, but you will know that she is with you\nby your pleasant dreams. Only at one hour of the day will you be left\nunguarded, and that is the hour before sunset. At that hour Tom will\nhave to be away, and your fairy aunt will not yet have arrived, so you\nmust be very careful of yourselves. You will, I hope, try always to\nbe good children; but in the hour before sunset you must try\ntwenty-four times harder than ever. Nobody knows what may happen when\na little child does wrong; but there is great danger that the sun\nmight catch fire and the moon freeze up. So, once more, my darlings,\nbe very careful; for every hour is as long as it is short, but the\nhour before sunset is the longest and the shortest of all.'\n\nThe children promised to remember; and their mother kissed them and\nwent away. The same day Tom the Cat arrived. A beautiful big cat he\nwas, with deep soft fur, round yellow eyes, and a tail as thick as a\nfeather duster. He was also the sweetest-tempered cat in the world, so\nthat the children lived with him several years without even so much as\nsuspecting that he had such a thing as a claw about him. He could purr\nas comfortably as the hopper of a windmill; and he took care of the\nchildren better than a dozen nurses would have done. But an hour\nbefore sunset every day he always disappeared, and only came back\nagain when the last bit of the sun had gone out of sight. Then he put\nthe children to bed, and purred outside their window until they fell\nasleep; and as soon as that happened in floated the Fairy Aunt, to\nkiss their closed eyelids, and to hover beside their beds and whisper\nin their ears all manner of charming stories about Fairyland, and the\nwonderful things that were to be seen and done there. But early in the\nmorning, just before they awoke, she would kiss their eyelids once\nmore and flit away out of the round window; and the white cat, with\nhis yellow eyes and his thick tail, would come purring comfortably in\nat the door.\n\nOne day, however (the unluckiest day in the whole year), Hilda,\nHarold, and Hector went out to play as usual on the round lawn in the\ncentre of the garden. It was Rumpty-Dudget's birthday--the only day in\nthe whole year on which he had power to creep through the hole in the\nhedge and prowl about the Queen's grounds. Nevertheless, all went well\nuntil the last hour before sunset, when Tom the Cat was forced to be\naway. Before he went he warned the children to look out for the grey\nrat; but before he had time to explain what he meant by the grey rat\nthe hour struck, and he could not help vanishing. The children were\nleft to themselves; but they were not at all frightened. They had\nnever heard of Rumpty-Dudget; and this is not so strange as it might\nat first seem; for it often happens in the world that our worst\nenemies live so close to us that we are not aware of them until after\nwe have fallen into their power. Hilda, Harold, and Hector, at all\nevents, went on playing together very kindly; for up to this time they\nhad never had a quarrel. The only thing that troubled them was, that\nTom the Cat was not there to play with them; they all longed to see\nhis yellow eyes and his thick tail, and to stroke his soft back, and\nhear his comfortable purr. But it was now very near sunset, and he\nmust soon return. The sun, like a great red ball, hung a little way\nabove the edge of the world; though he had not caught fire as yet, he\nwas evidently very hot, and it was quite time for him to be at rest.\n\nAll at once Princess Hilda, who had been gazing at the sun with her\nblue eyes wide open, heard a little croaking laugh, and looking down,\nshe saw a strange little creature standing close beside her, all grey\nfrom head to foot. He wore a grey hat and beard, and a long grey cloak\nthat dragged on the ground like a tail, and on his back was a grey\nhump that made him seem even shorter than he was, though at the most\nhe was hardly over a foot high. Hilda was surprised, but not in the\nleast frightened, for nobody had ever yet done her any harm; and\nbesides, this odd little grey man, though he was as ugly as a rent in\na new pinafore, grinned at her from one ear to the other, and seemed\nto be the most good-natured dwarf in the world. So Princess Hilda\ncalled to Prince Harold and Prince Hector, who, when they saw what had\ncome to them, were no more frightened than Hilda, and a good deal more\namused; and as the dwarf kept on grinning from one ear to the other\nthe three children began to smile back at him. Meanwhile the great red\nball of the sun was slowly dropping downwards; and now his lower rim\nwas just resting on the edge of the world.\n\nSince you have already heard about Rumpty-Dudget you will have guessed\nthat this grey dwarf was none other than he, and that although he\ngrinned so broadly from one ear to the other he wished in reality to\ndo the three children harm; and even (if he could manage it) to carry\none of them off to his tower, to stand in the hundred-and-first\ncorner, with his face to the wall and his hands behind his back. But\nRumpty-Dudget had no power to do this so long as the children stayed\non their side of the prickly hedge; he must first tempt them to creep\nthrough the opening, and then, when they were upon his own grounds, he\ncould do with them what he pleased. Now, the children had often been\nwarned not to creep through the hedge, both by their Queen-mother,\nbefore she went away, and by their Fairy Aunt in dreams, and by Tom\nthe Cat in the daytime; and as they had never had reason to suppose\nthat there was anything prettier on the other side of the hedge than\non their own, they had never thought of going thither. Rumpty-Dudget\nknew this; and as he was even more cunning than he was ugly he had\nmade up his mind to profit by it.\n\n'My dear young people,' he said, holding out his hands, 'I am very\nglad to meet you. It has grieved me to see you all playing here on\nthis ugly lawn, when there is a garden so much more beautiful just on\nthe other side of the hedge. I am very fond of children, and I make it\nmy business to amuse them. If you will just give yourselves the\ntrouble to step through that opening in the hedge you shall see\nsomething that you never saw before.'\n\nThe three children thought this sounded very pleasant; but, after a\npause, Princess Hilda, who generally took the lead, said:\n\n'We were told not to go on the other side of the hedge.'\n\n'Who could have been so unkind as to tell you that?' cried\nRumpty-Dudget, as if he was very much shocked. 'Besides, one side of\nthe hedge is just the same as another; and if it is wrong to go on the\nother side, how much more wrong it must be to stay on this!'\n\nHilda thought awhile before answering, for what Rumpty-Dudget had said\ncertainly sounded reasonable. 'But why,' she asked at last, 'should\nthere be any hedge at all?'\n\n'It is all on account of the hole through it,' the dwarf replied, with\nhis most charming grin. 'There could have been no hole, you see, if\nthere hadn't been a hedge; and that is why the hedge was planted.'\n\nPrincess Hilda could not deny that this was true; and, moreover, since\nshe had begun to talk with the dwarf she had felt a strong desire to\nsee whether the garden on the other side of the hedge was so very much\nprettier than their own, as he declared. 'What do you say, boys?' she\nasked, turning to the two little princes. 'Shall we take just one\npeep?'\n\n'That is right! Come, my dears, at once!' put in Rumpty-Dudget\neagerly, taking Hilda and Harold each by the hand, and letting little\nHector trot on before. 'It is already late, and I want you to see my\ngarden before the sun goes down.' So they all came to the opening in\nthe hedge; and, if the truth must be told, the three children were\nalmost as anxious to get through it as Rumpty-Dudget was to have them\ndo so. And the great red ball of the sun kept going down further and\nfurther, and now all his lower half was out of sight beneath the edge\nof the world.\n\n'Now, my dear,' said Rumpty-Dudget to Princess Hilda, 'will you step\nthrough first? Ladies always go first, you know.'\n\n'Not through holes in the hedges,' replied Hilda, drawing back. 'It is\nalways the men who go first then.'\n\nAll but the last quarter of the sun was now hidden behind the edge of\nthe world, and there was no time to be lost, for (as Rumpty-Dudget\nwell knew) as soon as the sun was quite gone Tom the Cat would appear.\nSo he said, as amiably as he could, though in reality he felt very\nangry:\n\n'Well, then, Prince Harold, my fine fellow, you are the next eldest;\ntake my hand, and in we go.'\n\n'No,' said Prince Harold, drawing back; 'I think I am too big to get\nthrough that little hole. Somebody else must go first.'\n\nRumpty-Dudget trembled with rage and fear; and there was only the\nsmallest bit of the sun yet visible. However, he managed to say, in a\ntolerably smooth voice:\n\n'Little Prince Hector, there, is my man after all! He will come\nthrough the hole, and see the pretty things, won't he?'\n\nNow, Prince Hector was a sturdy little fellow, and afraid of nothing;\nso he put his hand in Rumpty-Dudget's and said boldly:\n\n'Yes, I'll go; but if your garden isn't any prettier than you are I\nshan't want to stay long.'\n\n'Let me lift you in, my little hero,' said Rumpty-Dudget, taking\nHector round the waist with his little bony hands; 'and I'll warrant\nyou won't come back in a hurry. Now, then--jump!'\n\nBut just at that moment the last scrap of the sun vanished beneath the\nedge of the world; and instantly, with a tremendous hissing and\ncaterwauling, Tom the Cat came springing across the lawn like a\nwhite-hot snowball. His yellow eyes flashed, his back bristled, and\nevery hair upon his tail stood out so straight that the tail looked as\nthick as an old-fashioned muff. He flew straight at Rumpty-Dudget and\nleaped upon his hump, and bit and scratched him soundly. Rumpty-Dudget\nyelled with pain, and dropping Prince Hector, he vanished through the\nhole in the hedge like a hot chestnut into a hungry boy.\n\nBut from the other side of the hedge he flung at the three children a\nhandful of black mud; a bit of it hit Princess Hilda on the forehead,\nand another bit fell upon Prince Harold's nose, and another upon\nlittle Prince Hector's chin. And there those three black spots stayed;\nand all the washing and scrubbing in the world would not make them go\naway. It is always so with the mud that Rumpty-Dudget throws; it\nseems to grow down into you until it fastens a root in your heart. And\nthis, probably, was the reason why Princess Hilda (who had until then\nbeen the best little girl in the world) began from that time to wish\nto rule things; and Prince Harold (who had until then been one of the\ntwo best little boys in the world) began from that time to wish to\nhave things; and little Prince Hector (who had until then been the\nother of the two best little boys in the world) began from that time\nto wish to do things which he was told not to do.\n\nSuch was the effect of Rumpty-Dudget's three mud-spots.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE WAYS OF THE WIND.\n\n\nBut, although Hilda, Harold, and Hector were no longer quite the best\nchildren in the world, they were pretty good children as the world\ngoes, and if it had not been for the north wind they would have got on\ntogether very well. But whenever that wind blew everything began to go\nwrong. Hilda wanted everything her own way; Harold wanted everything\nin his own pockets; and Hector wanted everything at cross-purposes.\nThen, too, the spots on Hilda's forehead, on Harold's nose, and on\nHector's chin became blacker and blacker, and hotter and hotter, until\nthe children were ready to cry from pain and vexation. But tears could\ndo no more than soap and water to wash the spots away.\n\nAs soon as the wind began to blow from the south, however, the spots\nbegan to lose their blackness, and the pricking to lessen, until at\nlast the children almost forgot their trouble. Yet it never altogether\ndisappeared; and neither Tom the Cat nor the Fairy Aunt had the power\nto cure it. But Tom used to say that, unless Hilda and her two\nbrothers would agree always to make the wind blow from the south, the\nhundred-and-first corner in Rumpty-Dudget's tower would sooner or\nlater be filled.\n\n'How can we make the wind blow one way or the other?' Hilda would ask.\n\n'It all depends upon you, nevertheless,' Tom would reply. 'Winds do\nnot move of themselves, but people pull them.'\n\n'Well, I don't understand it,' Hilda would answer, after a little\nthinking; 'and if I don't, of course the boys don't either.'\n\nAt night, when the Fairy Aunt came in through the round window, and\nsat on their bedside to whisper stories about Fairyland into their\nears, the children would sometimes ask her to take them all three up\nin her arms and carry them over the tops of the trees of the Forest of\nMystery to her home far away on the other side. Then she would shake\nher head and say:\n\n'While those spots are on your faces you cannot come with me.'\n\n'Why not?' the children asked in their dream.\n\n'Because they are a sign that a part of each of you belongs to\nRumpty-Dudget; and he will not let go of that part, in spite of all\nthat I can do.'\n\n'Shall we never be able to go with you, then?' dreamed the children\npiteously.\n\n'Not until the wind blows from the south every day in the week. When\nthat happens the spots will vanish, and I will take you all three in\nmy arms, and fly with you over the tops of the trees to Fairyland.'\n\n'And what shall we see there?' the children asked.\n\n'You will see the Queen, your mother.'\n\n'And shall we see you too?'\n\n'Yes, I shall be with you.'\n\n'And Tom the Cat too?'\n\n'What you have loved in Tom the Cat will be there too,' answered the\nfairy, smiling.\n\n'But how shall we make the wind blow from the south every day in the\nweek?'\n\nAt that the fairy smiled and shook her head, and touched each one of\nthem on the heart; and no other answer would she give. So the\nchildren were no wiser on that point than before.\n\nThus time went on steadily, to-morrow always going before to-day, and\nyesterday invariably bringing up the rear, until a year was past; and\nwhat should come round again but Rumpty-Dudget's birthday, the most\nunlucky day of all the three hundred and sixty five! An hour and\ntwenty seconds before sunset Tom the Cat said to the children:\n\n'Now, you must be very careful, while I am away, to do as I tell you.\nDo not go out into the garden, do not touch the black ball that lies\non the nursery table, and do not jump against the north wind; for if\nyou do----'\n\nBut at this moment the hour struck, and Tom the Cat sprang into the\nair and disappeared like a soap bubble.\n\nFor a while the three children remembered what had been said to them;\nthey played quietly in the palace, and did not touch the black ball on\nthe nursery table. But towards sunset it so happened that they were\nall leaning against the table, with their elbows resting on it, and\ntheir heads between their hands. There lay the black ball mysterious\nand quiet. The longer the children looked at it the more mysterious it\nappeared. At last Hilda said:\n\n'I wonder where it came from?'\n\n'I wonder what it's made of?' said Harold.\n\n'I wonder why we mustn't touch it?' said Hector.\n\nThen all three looked at it steadily for another minute. Then Hilda\nexclaimed suddenly:\n\n'I believe it moved!'\n\n'So do I!' cried Harold.\n\n'I don't!' said Hector. 'But I can make it move.' And with that he\ngave the table a tip, and the black ball rolled off, bounced on to the\nfloor, and jumped out of the window into the garden.\n\n'You have disobeyed Tom the Cat,' said Hilda, after a pause.\n\n'How shall we ever get it back again?' cried Harold, running to the\nwindow and looking out. 'Oh, I can see it! there, in the middle of the\nlawn.'\n\n'Yes, but we are not to go into the garden,' said Hilda.\n\n'It is all Hector's fault,' said Harold.\n\n'I am going into the garden to play with the ball,' said Hector\nboldly; and he walked off.\n\n'What a naughty boy he is!' said Harold to Hilda.\n\n'Yes; but the wind blows from the south,' she answered. 'You may stay\nhere if you like; I think I shall go and play with Hector.' And she\nwalked off.\n\n'What naughty children they are!' said Harold to himself. 'But Hilda\nis older than I, and Hector is younger, so I think I will go out too.'\nSo he ran after the others, and came up with them just as Hector had\npicked up the black ball and was tossing it to Hilda.\n\n'Let us play in a triangle,' said Harold. So they stood at the three\ncorners, and tossed the ball from one to another.\n\nBut, strange to say, the wind, which had been blowing all day from the\nsouth, had suddenly changed to the north; and the spots on the\nchildren's faces began to get blacker than ink and hotter than pepper.\nAnd, as they had to keep rubbing the spots first with one hand and\nthen with another, they were continually missing the ball when it was\nthrown to them; and they did not notice that every time it fell to the\nground it struck nearer and nearer to the tall hedge which divided\nRumpty-Dudget's land from the Queen's. At last Harold got the ball to\nhimself, and kept tossing it up and down without letting the others\nhave their turn. Hereupon Hilda and Hector began to run after him to\ntake the ball away from him; but just as they caught up with him he\ngave the ball a great throw, and it flew clear over the high hedge,\nand came down with a bounce in Rumpty-Dudget's garden. It wanted three\nminutes to sunset.\n\nThe three children were a good deal frightened at this, and looked at\none another in dismay. But they did not yet know how much reason for\nfright there was.\n\n'It is your fault!' said Hector to Harold.\n\n'It is your fault!' said Harold to Hilda.\n\n'It is your fault!' said Hilda to Hector.\n\n'Let us look through the hole in the hedge,' said Hector, putting his\nfinger on his chin, where the black spot was. Hilda put her finger\nupon the spot on her forehead and followed him; and Harold followed\nthem both, with his finger on his nose. They came to the hole in the\nhedge, and looked through it.\n\n'I can see it!' exclaimed Hilda.\n\n'It is not far off,' said Harold. 'If the north wind did not blow so\nhard through this hole we might jump through and get it.'\n\n'I don't mind jumping against the north wind,' said Hector boldly; and\nwith that he jumped through the hole: and the sun set.\n\n'It is too late!' said Tom the Cat, who appeared between Harold and\nHilda at that moment. 'I cannot save him now. Look!'\n\nHector, after jumping through the hedge, had run up to the black ball\nand stooped to pick it up. But the ball moved and unfolded itself, and\na little cackling laugh came out of it, and it stood up on its legs.\nIt was no other than Rumpty-Dudget himself.\n\n'Now, my young prince, you will come with me and stand in my\nhundred-and-first corner!' said he, with a malignant grin.\n\n'No, I won't!' said Hector.\n\nAt that Rumpty-Dudget took a piece of black string from his pocket and\nheld one end of it to the black spot on Hector's chin; and it stuck to\nit so fast that all the pulling in the world could not pull it off.\nThen Rumpty-Dudget put the string over his shoulder, and so dragged\nHector into his tower, and put him in the hundred-and-first corner.\n\nAs soon as this was done the north wind increased to a hurricane; the\nbeautiful palace was blown away, the Garden of Delight was destroyed,\nand nothing was left but a desert covered with grey stones and\nbrambles. The dull grey cloud covered all the sky, and Rumpty-Dudget\nwas master of the whole country.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nNO TIME TO BE LOST.\n\n\nPrincess Hilda and Prince Harold sat down on a heap of rubbish that\nhappened to be near them, and cried heartily. Tom the Cat sat before\nthem, moving the end of his tail first one way and then the other, and\nlooking very sorrowful out of his yellow eyes. But presently he said:\n\n'Crying will not get poor Hector back again.'\n\n'Can we ever get him back?' sobbed Harold.\n\n'I would do anything!' whimpered Hilda.\n\n'If our Fairy Aunt were only here,' said Harold, 'perhaps she could\ntell us what we ought to do.'\n\n'You will not see the Fairy Aunt again,' Tom replied, 'until you have\ngot Hector out of the grey tower, where he is at this moment standing,\nwith his face to the wall and his hands behind his back, in the\none-hundred-and-first corner.'\n\n'But what can we do?' cried Hilda, beginning to weep afresh. 'We are\nnothing but little children.'\n\n'Perhaps you may be able to do more than if you were grown up,' Tom\nreplied. 'It depends a good deal upon how much you love Hector.'\n\n'Oh!' exclaimed both the children at once; and as they could not think\nof anything big enough to compare their love for Hector to, they said\nnothing more.\n\n'Listen to me, then,' said Tom, 'and all may yet be well. But in the\nfirst place get on my back, so that I may take you out of this desert\nand into the great forest, where we can lay our plans without being\ninterrupted.'\n\nSo saying Tom rose and curved his back: the two children jumped upon\nit; off they all went, and, in less time than it takes to tell it,\nthey were in the midst of that great Forest of Mystery which they had\nso often seen from the window of their chamber, but which, until now,\nthey had never entered. It was quite still, except a faint chopping\nnoise that seemed to come from a long way off.\n\n'What makes that noise?' Hilda asked.\n\n'That is Rumpty-Dudget cutting down the trees,' Tom replied; 'and\nunless we can stop him he will cut down every one of them. However, he\nwill hardly get so far as this to-night. Now, children, sit down and\nlisten.'\n\nThe children accordingly seated themselves on a cushion of moss at the\nfoot of one of the tallest pine-trees in the forest, and the cat sat\ndown in front of them, with his thick tail curled round his toes.\n\n'The first thing to be done,' said Tom, looking at the children with\nhis yellow eyes, which burned as brightly as lamps in the gloom of the\nforest, 'the first thing to be done is, of course, to get the Golden\nIvy-seed and the Diamond Waterdrop. After that the rest is easy.'\n\n'And where are the Golden Ivy-seed and the Diamond Waterdrop to be\nfound?' inquired the two children hopefully.\n\n'The Golden Ivy-seed must be sought in the centre of the earth, where\nthe King of the Gnomes reigns,' replied the cat; 'and the Diamond\nWaterdrop is to be asked for in the kingdom of the Air Spirits, above\nthe clouds.'\n\n'But how are we to get up to the Air Spirits and down to the Gnomes?'\nasked the children disconsolately.\n\n'We will see about that,' replied the cat. 'But before starting we\nmust build the enchanted bonfire.'\n\n'What good will that do?' demanded the children.\n\n'We could never get on without it,' replied Tom. 'For since Hector has\nbeen put into the one-hundred-and-first corner the sun has caught fire\nand the moon has frozen up, and this fire will be all we can have to\nwarm and light us on our journey.'\n\n'But what if it should go out while we are away?' said the children.\n\n'In order to prevent that one of you must stay by it, while the other\ngoes with me on the journey,' said Tom. 'Harold, you shall be the one\nto stay. Be sure and not let the fire go out whatever happens; for if\nit does, Rumpty-Dudget will take the blackened logs and rub Hector's\nface all over with them, and then we should never be able to get him\nout of the tower at all. Now do you two run about and pick up all the\ndried sticks you can find, and pile them together in a heap, while I\nget the touchwood ready.'\n\nIn a few minutes--so diligently did Hilda and Harold work--a heap of\nfaggots had been gathered together as high as the top of Hilda's head.\nMeanwhile Tom the Cat had not been idle. He had drawn on the ground\nwith the tip of his tail a large circle, in the centre of which was\nthe heap of faggots. It had now become quite dark, and the children\ncould not have seen their way about had it not been for Tom's yellow\neyes, which burned as brightly as two carriage-lamps.\n\n'Come inside the circle, children,' said he at length. 'I am now going\nto light the touchwood.'\n\nIn they came accordingly, and sat down again on the moss cushion at\nthe foot of the tall pine-tree. The cat then put the touchwood on the\nground and crouched down in front of it, with his nose resting against\nit; and he stared and stared at it with his flaming yellow eyes, and\nby and by it began to smoke and smoulder, and at last it caught fire\nand burned away famously.\n\n'That will do nicely,' said the cat; 'now put on some sticks.'\n\nHilda and Harold heaped on the dry sticks in handfuls; and so the\nenchanted fire was fairly started, and it burned blue, red, and\nyellow.\n\n'And now there is no time to be lost,' said Tom the Cat. 'Harold, you\nwill stay beside this fire, and keep it burning until I come back with\nHilda from the kingdoms of the Air Spirits and of the Gnomes.\nRemember, that if you let the fire go out it can never again be\nlighted, and all will be lost. Nevertheless, you must on no account go\noutside the circle to gather more faggots, if those which are already\ninside get used up before we return. You may, perhaps, be tempted to\ndo so; but if you yield to the temptation all will go wrong. Your\nbrother Hector will then be in greater danger than ever, and the only\nway you can save him will be to get into the fire yourself and burn!'\n\nPrince Harold did not much like the idea of being left alone in the\nwoods all night, with the sound of Rumpty-Dudget's axe coming ever\nnearer and nearer. Still, since it was for his little brother Hector's\nsake, he never dreamed of refusing. But he made up his mind to be\nparticularly careful not to use up the faggots too fast, so that he\nwould not be tempted to go outside the ring.\n\nHilda and Tom kissed him, and bade him farewell; then Hilda got on the\ncat's back, and nestled down amidst the warm white fur. Tom sprang on\nto the trunk of the tall pine-tree, and away! straight upwards they\nwent, and were out of sight in the twinkling of an eye.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE QUEEN OF THE AIR.\n\n\nAfter climbing upwards for a long time they came at last to the very\ntiptop of the pine-tree, which was just on a level with the upper\nsurface of the clouds.\n\n'We are now above the reach of the north wind,' remarked the cat; 'and\nthis is the only tree in the forest tall enough for our purpose. All\nthe clouds hereabouts, as you see, are blown by the south wind and by\nthe west. If we rode on one blown by the north we should be driven\nstraight into Rumpty-Dudget's power.'\n\n'Are we going to ride on a cloud, then?' asked Hilda, feeling a little\nnervous; for it was a terrible distance if they should fall.\n\n'Hold tight to me, and you will be safe,' replied Tom. 'Here comes the\ncloud we want--it will pass within two yards of us. As we make the\njump do you look down to the foot of the tree and see whether Harold\nis in his place and the fire still burning.'\n\nHardly had Tom done speaking, when the cloud sailed by, passing, as he\nhad said, within two yards of the top of the pine-tree to which they\nwere clinging. The cat jumped, and alighted very cleverly on the\ncloud's edge, and a moment's scramble brought them to the top.\nMeanwhile, Hilda had looked downward to the foot of the tree as they\ntook their leap; and she had caught a glimpse of Harold sitting within\nthe ring, beside the enchanted fire, and seeming rather disconsolate.\nBut the fire was burning brightly, yellow, red, and blue.\n\nThe cloud sailed away, and took them to a part of the sky which Hilda\nhad never seen before. It was full of a strange white light, and no\ndarkness ever came there. On went the cloud, moving slowly but\nsteadily, like a great ship steering its way amidst the sky. The\nkingdom of the Air Spirits soon loomed in sight. Rainbow bridges\nspanned its shining rivers; its forests were like the tracery of the\nNorthern Lights; and the houses and palaces in which the people lived\nwere stars of different sizes, along whose rays was the only path to\nget to them.\n\nAt length the cloud entered the harbour, and, letting down an anchor\nof raindrops, its motion ceased.\n\n'You must go the rest of the way alone, Hilda,' said the cat. 'I shall\nwait for you, and you will find me here on your return.'\n\n'But which way am I to go, and what am I to do?' asked Hilda in a\ntremulous tone; for being so high above the earth almost took her\nbreath away.\n\n'You must ask the first Air Spirit you meet to show you the star where\nthe Queen lives, and then you must get there the best way you can,'\nTom replied. 'When you have found her you must ask her for the Diamond\nWaterdrop. But be very careful not to sit down, however much you may\nbe tempted to do so; for if you do, your little brother Hector never\ncan be saved.'\n\nHilda did not much like the idea of making so perilous a journey as\nthis promised to be, without even the cat to go with her; but since it\nwas for Hector's sake she never dreamed of refusing: only she made up\nher mind on no account to sit down, no matter what happened. She bade\nTom farewell, therefore, and walked off.\n\nShe had not gone far when she met an Air Spirit, carrying its nose in\nthe air--as, of course, all Air Spirits do.\n\n'Can you tell me which star the Queen sits in?' Hilda asked.\n\n'What do you want of the Queen?' inquired the Air Spirit\nsuperciliously.\n\n'I want to ask her where the Diamond Waterdrop is,' answered Hilda.\n\n'You will never get on in this country unless you carry your nose more\nin the air than you do,' observed the Air Spirit. 'As for her Majesty,\nshe sits in the large star up yonder with the white ray. Mind you\ndon't break your neck. Ta-ta!'\n\nHilda went onward very disconsolately. As to carrying her nose in the\nair she had never in her life felt less inclined to do such a thing.\nBy and by she came to the spot where the white ray of light from the\nQueen's star touched the solid air. A number of Air Spirits were\nwalking up and down it like so many tight-rope dancers.\n\n'Look at that absurd child!' they said to one another. 'See how she\nhangs her head! Why doesn't she put on airs? She will never come to\nanything.'\n\nHilda began to climb up the long white ray; and though at first she\nwas very much frightened, by degrees she gained courage, and at last\nshe was able to walk along tolerably fast. But it was a long distance\nto the top, and by the time she got there she was almost ready to drop\nwith fatigue.\n\nThe star, when she entered it, was a glorious place indeed; and the\nQueen of the Air Spirits was dazzlingly beautiful, though Hilda\nfancied that she looked upon her rather haughtily. She was seated upon\na throne of fretted sunshine; and as soon as Hilda was within hearing\nshe said:\n\n'I have been expecting you. You have come a long way, and you look\nvery tired. Come here and sit down.'\n\n'No, your Majesty,' replied Hilda faintly, 'I have no time to sit down\nor to stay. I have come to ask you for the Diamond Waterdrop.'\n\n'For the Diamond Waterdrop indeed!' exclaimed the Queen, laughing.\n'And pray what made you suppose that you would find the Diamond\nWaterdrop here? However, sit down here beside me, and let us talk\nabout it. Such a question as you ask cannot be answered in a moment.'\n\nBut Hilda shook her head.\n\n'Listen to me, my dear Princess,' said the Queen again, more\ncourteously than she had yet spoken. 'I know that you like to have\neverything your own way; and, as you are perhaps aware, there is no\none who can have things so entirely her own way as can the Queen of\nthe Air Spirits. Now, Princess Hilda, if you will sit down here on my\nthrone I will let you be Queen of the Air Spirits instead of me. You\nshall have everything your own way, and you shall put on as many airs\nas you please. Come!'\n\nWhen Hilda heard this she certainly felt for a moment very much\ntempted to do as the Queen asked her. But the next moment the thought\ncame to her of her poor little brother Hector, standing in the\nhundred-and-first corner of Rumpty-Dudget's tower, with his face to\nthe wall and his hands behind his back. So she answered, with tears in\nher eyes:\n\n'Oh, Queen of the Air Spirits, I am so sorry for my little brother\nthat I do not any longer care to have everything my own way, or to\nput on airs, or to do anything except find the Diamond Waterdrop, so\nthat Hector may be saved. Can you tell me where it is?'\n\nBut the Queen shook her beautiful head and frowned.\n\n'I have no Diamond Waterdrop,' said she. 'Ask yourself where it is.'\n\nThen poor Hilda felt as if her heart would break, and she sobbed out:\n\n'Oh, what shall I do to save my poor little brother?'\n\nThere was no answer, and Hilda turned away. But, as she did so, the\nQueen suddenly said:\n\n'I see the Diamond Waterdrop now, Hilda!'\n\n'Oh, where?' cried Hilda, turning again eagerly.\n\nThe Queen was smiling upon her now with a very kind expression.\n\n'It is on your own cheek!' said she.\n\nHilda was so bewildered that, at first, she could only gaze at the\nQueen without moving or speaking.\n\n'Yes,' the Queen continued, in a gentle tone, 'you might have searched\nthrough all the kingdoms of the earth and air, and yet never have\nfound that precious Diamond, had you not loved your brother Hector\nmore than you loved to be Queen. That tear upon your cheek, Hilda,\nwhich you shed for love of him, is the Diamond Waterdrop that you have\nsought. Keep it in this crystal phial; be prudent, patient, and\nresolute, and sooner or later Hector will be free.'\n\nAs the Queen spoke she held out a small crystal phial, and the tear\nfrom Hilda's cheek fell into it. Then the Queen hung the phial about\nHilda's neck by a chain of moon-sparkles, and kissed her tenderly and\nbade her farewell. And away went Hilda, light of foot, for the\nweariness had left her. But as she went she kept fancying that she had\nsomewhere heard a voice like this Queen's before; but where or when\nshe could not tell.\n\nShe now reached the solid air again, and hastening her steps, she\npresently arrived at the harbour in which the cloud was anchored; and\nthere she found Tom the Cat awaiting her. He got up and stretched\nhimself as she approached; and when he saw the crystal phial hanging\nat her neck by its chain of moon-sparkles he said:\n\n'So far all has gone well. But the hardest part is yet to come: we\nhave to find the Golden Ivy-seed. There is no time to be lost, so jump\non my back, and let us be off!'\n\nWith that he curved his back, Hilda put her arms round his neck and\nnestled down in the soft white fur, and Tom gave a great leap off the\nedge of the cloud, and away! down they went through the empty air like\na live snowball, and it seemed to Hilda that they never would have\ndone falling. At length, however, they alighted safely on the top of a\nhaystack, and the next moment they were standing in the hayfield.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE KING OF THE GNOMES.\n\n\nJust beside the haystack was a field-mouse's hole, or what looked like\none; and something that looked like a little brown mouse, but which\nmight have been something else for all Hilda could tell, was sitting\nat the entrance of it. But when it saw the cat it rose up on its\nlittle hind legs, turned a complete somersault, and then darted away\ndown the hole; and Hilda noticed that it had no tail.\n\n'What a curious mouse!' she said to Tom.\n\n'It was a Gnome,' he replied: 'they are often mistaken for mice when\nthey appear on the surface of the ground.'\n\n'Where has he gone to?' inquired Hilda.\n\n'Down to the centre of the earth, to be sure,' said Tom, 'to tell the\nothers that we are coming.'\n\n'But we can never get into such a little hole as that,' Hilda said.\n\n'Get on my back, and hold fast!' was all Tom's answer; and when Hilda\nhad nestled down in his soft white fur and clasped her arms round his\nneck he began scratching at the hole with both his fore-paws, and\nthrowing up the dirt in a mighty heap behind; till in a wonderfully\nshort time a large passage was made, opening towards the centre of the\nearth.\n\n'Hold fast!' said Tom again, and into the passage they went.\n\nIf it had not been for the cat's eyes, which shone like two yellow\ncarriage-lamps, they might more than once have missed their way, for\nit was as dark as pitch during the first part of the journey. Hilda,\nas she clung close to the cat's back, could see that they were passing\nrapidly through what seemed to be a series of caves, one opening into\nanother, and growing always higher and broader as they went on. At\nfirst the air felt damp and cold; but as they sped onwards it grew\nwarmer and drier; and now the wall of the caverns began to throw back\ngleams of many-coloured light, as if from gigantic jewels sticking\nthere; and presently the light increased, without seeming to come\nfrom anywhere in particular; and the great vault overhead seemed to\nsoar aloft, until only a misty brightness was visible, like the sky at\nsunset-time, when it is feathered with gorgeous clouds. It was a new\nand marvellous country, with gold and silver filagree instead of\nfoliage, and fields of emerald, and rivers of sapphires, and distant\nmountains of amethyst. By and by the cat came to two lofty pillars of\nplain white alabaster, and there he stopped.\n\n'Now, Hilda,' he said, 'you must go the rest of the way alone. Pass\nbetween those pillars, and then you will be in the kingdom of the\nGnomes. Ask the first Gnome you meet to show you the place where the\nKing ploughs; and when you have found him, ask him where the Golden\nIvy-seed is. But be very careful to do everything that he bids you, no\nmatter how strange or disagreeable it may be; for, if you disobey him,\nyour brother Hector cannot be saved.'\n\nThough Hilda did not much like the idea of going on through this\nstrange land all by herself, still, since it was for Hector's sake,\nshe never dreamed of refusing; only she made up her mind to do\neverything the King bade her, whatever happened. So off she started,\nand after passing between the alabaster pillars she came to a road on\nwhich the gold-dust lay an inch thick; for it seldom rains in the\ncentre of the earth. Pretty soon she met a little brown Gnome, running\nalong on all-fours, and turning somersaults, as all Gnomes do.\n\n'Will you show me the place where the King ploughs?' asked Hilda.\n\n'What do you want of him?' asked the Gnome.\n\n'I want to ask him to tell me where the Golden Ivy-seed is,' Hilda\nreplied.\n\n'He ploughs in the emerald field on the other side of the mountain of\namethyst,' said the Gnome; 'but, unless you can go on all-fours and\nturn somersaults better than you seem able to do, you will never get\non in this country.'\n\nBut Hilda had never walked on all-fours, much less turned somersaults,\nsince she was a baby a year old; so she trudged along the dusty golden\nroad just as she was, and all the Gnomes who met her threw somersaults\nand said:\n\n'See how upright she walks! She will never come to anything!'\n\nThe road was very long, the amethyst mountain was very far away, and\nHilda was very tired by the time she arrived at the emerald field. But\nthere was the field at last, and there was the King of the Gnomes on\nall-fours in the midst of it. He was a strange little being, with\npiercing black eyes, immensely broad shoulders, and a beard of white\nasbestos woven together like a woman's braid. As soon as he caught\nsight of Hilda he shouted out to her:\n\n'Get down on all-fours this instant! How dare you come into my kingdom\nwalking upright?'\n\nHilda was a good deal frightened at the way the King spoke; but she\nanswered resolutely, 'Your Majesty, I walked upright because there was\nno time to lose, and I have come to ask you for the Golden Ivy-seed.'\n\n'The Golden Ivy-seed, forsooth!' exclaimed the King, with a deep\nlaugh. 'What made you suppose, I should like to know, that there was\nany Golden Ivy-seed to be got here? The Golden Ivy-seed is not given\nto people with stiff necks, I can assure you; so get down on all-fours\nat once, or else go about your business.'\n\nThen Hilda remembered what Tom the Cat had told her, and down she\ndropped on all-fours without a word.\n\n'Now, listen to me,' said the King sternly. 'I shall harness you to\nthat plough in the place of my horses, and you must drag it up and\ndown over this field until the whole of it is ploughed, while I follow\nbehind with the whip. Hitch yourself to the shaft immediately. Come!'\n\nWhen Hilda heard this command it seemed to her at first as if it was\nimpossible that she could obey it. For she was weary with her long\njourney along the golden road and over the mountain of amethyst, and\nthe King's plough looked very heavy, and his whip very long; and,\nbesides, she thought it was much beneath the dignity of a princess\nsuch as she was to be driven on all-fours through a ploughed field.\nBut the next moment the thought came to her of her poor little brother\nHector, standing in the hundred-and-first corner of Rumpty-Dudget's\ntower, with his face to the wall and his hands behind his back. So she\nsaid humbly:\n\n'Oh, King of the Gnomes! I am so sorry for my brother Hector that for\nhis sake I will do as you bid me, in the hope that afterwards you\nwill tell me where the Golden Ivy-seed is to be found, so that Hector\nmay be saved from Rumpty-Dudget's tower.'\n\nThe King made no reply whatever, but he harnessed Hilda to the plough,\nand she dragged it back and forth across the emerald field until the\nwhole of it was ploughed, while the King followed behind with the\nwhip. At last he unharnessed her.\n\n'Now begone about your business!' he said roughly.\n\n'But you have not told me where the Golden Ivy-seed is,' said Hilda,\nwith a piteous throb in her heart.\n\n'I have no Golden Ivy-seed!' returned the King, with his deep laugh.\n'Why don't you ask yourself where it is?'\n\nAt this poor Hilda's heart felt as if it were broken, and she sank\ndown on the ground and sobbed out:\n\n'Oh! what shall I do to save my little brother?'\n\nBut hereupon the King of the Gnomes smiled upon her, and he said, in a\ngentler voice than he had yet used:\n\n'Put your hand to your heart, Hilda, and see what you find there.'\n\nHilda did not understand what he meant; but she had by this time got\nso used to obeying him that she put her hand to her heart, and felt\nsomething fall into the palm of her hand; and when in astonishment she\nlooked at it, behold, it was a tiny golden seed!\n\n'Yes,' said the King kindly, 'you might have searched through all the\nkingdoms of the earth and air, and yet never have found that precious\nseed, had not your heart been broken like this field for love of your\nbrother Hector. Keep the Golden Ivy-seed in this hollow pearl; be\nhumble, patient, and gentle, and sooner or later Hector will be free.'\n\nAs he said these words he fastened the pearl to her girdle with a\njewelled clasp, and kissed her on the forehead and bade her farewell.\nAnd as Hilda trudged back along the golden road and over the mountain\nof amethyst she kept thinking that somewhere she had heard a voice\nlike this King's before; but where or when she could not tell.\n\nIn course of time she arrived at the alabaster pillars, and, passing\nout between them, she found Tom the Cat awaiting her. He got up and\nstretched himself as she approached; and when he saw the hollow pearl\nat her girdle he said:\n\n'So far all has gone well. But now we must see whether or not Harold\nhas kept the enchanted fire going. There is no time to be lost; so\njump on my back and hold fast, and let us be off.'\n\nWith that he curved his back; Hilda clasped her arms round his neck as\nbefore, and away they went, through the gleaming caverns, and up the\nsombre passages, and through the cold damp tunnels, until at last out\nthey popped beside the haystack in the field; and after they had come\nout the little brown creature which had been sitting waiting at the\nentrance threw a somersault into the great pit and disappeared. And\nimmediately the whole heap of earth which Tom had dug up fell back\ninto its place, and nothing was left but a small round crevice in the\nground, like a field-mouse's hole.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE ENCHANTED FIRE.\n\n\nNow, Harold--after he had seen Hilda and the cat vanish up the trunk\nof the tall pine-tree--had sat himself down rather disconsolately\nbeside the fire, which was blazing away famously, yellow, red, and\nblue. He rested his back against the trunk of the tree, and fixed his\neyes upon the fire; it made a slight rustling and crackling noise as\nit burned. There was also another noise, but that did not come from\nthe fire; it was a chopping noise, sounding far away in the forest,\nand Harold knew that it was Rumpty-Dudget cutting down the trees. Each\ntime he heard this sound it seemed to be a little nearer. Then he\nwould wonder to himself what he should do if Rumpty-Dudget were\nsuddenly to appear. He must not, at all events, let the fire go out;\nand every once in a while he took a faggot from the pile that he and\nHilda had heaped up and put it in the leaping flame; but he was very\ncareful to avoid stepping outside the circle which Tom the Cat had\ndrawn with the tip of his tail.\n\nIn this manner a very long time passed away, and Harold, who had never\nsat up so late before in his life, began to get uncommonly sleepy. But\nstill Hilda and Tom did not return; and Harold knew that, if he were\nto lie down and take a nap, the enchanted fire might go out before he\nwaked up again; and, as Tom had warned him, once out it could never be\nrekindled. Moreover, Rumpty-Dudget would then be able to steal the\nfire-blackened logs and blacken poor Hector's face all over with them,\nso that he never could be saved. Therefore Harold kept himself awake,\npartly by sitting on a pine-needle which he had found stuck in the\nmoss cushion, and partly by putting fresh faggots into the flame,\nwhich went on burning blue, yellow, and red.\n\nBut another very long time passed away, and the sound of\nRumpty-Dudget's axe sounded nearer, and the forest was dark and full\nof mystery, and there was no sign yet of Hilda and the cat. 'I never\nknew before,' said Harold to himself, 'that a night was so much\nlonger than a day. I always thought they were a great deal shorter,\nBut then I have no Fairy Aunt now to come and whisper pleasant stories\ninto my ear. Heigho! well, I suppose I must put on another faggot.'\nAnd he got up to fetch one.\n\nMuch to his consternation, however, he found that there was now only a\nsingle faggot left of all those that he and Hilda had gathered\ntogether.\n\nHe was really frightened at this, and knew not what to do; for this\nlast faggot would soon be burnt up, and then what was to be done to\nkeep the enchanted fire going? He made a careful search inside the\nring, and satisfied himself that there was not so much as another chip\nto be found there; and Tom had told him that if he went outside the\nring all would be lost.\n\nHowever, the last faggot was not gone yet, and in order to make it\nlast as long as possible Harold took it apart and put only one stick\nat a time on the fire; but it was alarming to see how quickly the\nflame ate up one after another, and seemed hungrier than ever. After a\nwhile all but the last stick was gone. A little while more and that\nhad to be put in too. And then Prince Harold sat down quite in despair\nand cried with all his might. He was at the end of everything, and at\nhis wit's end too.\n\nAt that moment he heard a voice calling to him; and looking up he saw\nan odd little man standing just outside the circle, carrying a great\nbundle of faggots on his shoulder. Harold's eyes were so full of tears\nthat he did not see that this odd little man was Rumpty-Dudget\nhimself; or else (what is quite as likely) the dwarf had some spell by\nmeans of which he could make himself appear different from what he\nwas.\n\n'What are you crying for, my poor dear little boy?' asked\nRumpty-Dudget of Prince Harold in his most coaxing voice.\n\n'Because I have used up all my faggots,' he answered.\n\n'Used them all up! But surely there are plenty more in the forest\nwhere those came from?' the dwarf answered in pretended surprise.\n'Besides, what harm if the fire does go out? It isn't a cold night,\nand the moon will be up presently.'\n\n'But if the fire goes out,' said Harold, 'my poor little brother\nHector cannot be saved.'\n\n'Oh, that is the trouble, is it?' exclaimed the dwarf. 'Well, now, it\nis lucky I happened to come along this way; you could not have met\nwith a better adviser than I am. For I know all about this\nRumpty-Dudget, with whom your brother Hector is staying; and I saw\nHector myself not an hour ago.'\n\n'Oh! did you?' cried Harold in great excitement.\n\n'To be sure I did; and very well he looked, I can tell you. He has\ndone nothing but eat sugar-candy and blow on a tin whistle ever since\nhe went there; and he says he wants nothing better than to stay with\nRumpty-Dudget all his life. And, by the way, he asked me to tell you\nif I saw you that he hoped you and your sister would come and join;\nfor that Rumpty-Dudget is the pleasantest fellow in the world, and not\nat all like what you had been made to believe him.'\n\n'Oh-h!' exclaimed Harold, staring at Rumpty-Dudget with wide-open\neyes. 'I don't see how that can be true. Who are you?'\n\n'A friend,' replied Rumpty-Dudget. 'And to prove it I have brought\nover this bundle of faggots; and when these are used up I will get\nyou some more.'\n\n'Oh, thank you very much!' exclaimed Harold, jumping for joy, and\ngoing as near to the inside edge of the circle as he could. 'Give them\nto me quick, for there is no time to be lost; the fire is just going\nout.'\n\n'I can't bring them inside the circle,' said the dwarf, suddenly\nputting the bundle on the ground, and pretending to be very much\nexhausted. 'I have carried them already all the way from the further\nside of the forest, and that is far enough. Surely you can come the\nrest of the way for them yourself.'\n\n'But I must not come outside the circle, you know,' said Harold,\ndancing up and down with impatience.\n\n'Why not?'\n\n'Because Tom the Cat said that if I did all would go wrong.'\n\n'Pshaw! what should a cat know about a thing like this?' demanded the\ndwarf very scornfully. 'At all events, your fire will burn less than a\nminute longer; and you know what will happen when it goes out.'\n\nAt that Harold became almost beside himself with anxiety and\nbewilderment, and what to do he could not tell. But at last he\nthought that anything would be better than to let the fire go out; so\nhe put one foot outside the circle and stretched forth his hand for\nthe faggots.\n\n'Just the least bit further,' said the dwarf coaxingly. 'I would save\nyou the trouble if I could; but I am really too tired to stir.'\n\nHarold saw that by stretching about six inches further he could reach\na faggot. But in order to stretch six inches he would be obliged to\nput the other foot outside the circle. 'After all, what can it\nmatter?' he thought. And the next moment there he was, outside!\n\nImmediately, with aloud laugh, the dwarf flung away the faggots far\ninto the depths of the forest; and rushing into the circle, he began\nto stamp out with his feet what was left of the enchanted fire.\n\nThen Harold recognised Rumpty-Dudget for the first time, for the spell\nwas off him. And Harold remembered what Tom the Cat had said, and he\nleaped back into the circle, and as the last bit of flame flickered at\nthe end of the stick he laid himself down upon it. Whereupon\nRumpty-Dudget gave a hoarse cry and vanished; and the enchanted fire\nblazed up famously, red, blue, and yellow, with poor Harold in the\nmidst of it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE GOLDEN IVY.\n\n\nNow, or never, it was the time for Hilda and the cat to come back.\nAnd, sure enough, at this very instant there was a sound like the\nwhistling of a blast of wind through the forest, and a hurrying and a\nskurrying, and behold! there was Tom the Cat, with Hilda on his back.\n\nTom said nothing, but he sprang into the circle, and without losing an\ninstant he dug a little hole in the ground with his fore paws,\nthrowing up the dirt in a heap behind him. When it was finished he\nsaid:\n\n'Open the hollow pearl, Hilda, and put the Golden Ivy-seed in this\nhole; and make haste, for Harold is burning for Hector's sake!'\n\nSo Hilda made haste to open the hollow pearl and to put the Golden\nIvy-seed in the hole; and the cat spread the earth over it, and then\nsaid:\n\n'Now take the crystal phial, Hilda, and pour half the Diamond\nWaterdrop upon the place where the seed is planted, and the other half\nupon the enchanted fire; and make haste, for Harold is burning for\nHector's sake!'\n\nSo Hilda made haste and did what the cat had told her to do.\n\nWhen the half of the Diamond Waterdrop fell upon the fire in which\nHarold had all this while been burning the fire was immediately put\nout. And there lay Harold, alive and well, amidst the embers; but the\nblack spot upon his nose was all burned away, and his hair and eyes,\nwhich had until then been brown, were now quite black.\n\nSo up he jumped, and he and Hilda kissed each other heartily, for they\nfelt as if they had been separated for a long time.\n\n'What has become of the black spot on your forehead, Hilda?' asked\nHarold. 'It is not there any more.'\n\n'Ah!' said Tom, 'that disappeared when the King of the Gnomes kissed\nher. But now make yourselves ready, children, for we are going to take\na ride to Rumpty-Dudget's tower.'\n\nOn hearing this the young prince and princess were greatly surprised,\nand looked about for the horses on which they were to ride.\n\nBut behold! the Golden Ivy-seed, watered with the Diamond Waterdrop,\nwas already growing and sprouting with marvellous vigour and rapidity.\nA strong stem, with leaves of glistening gold, had pushed itself out\nof the earth, and was creeping along the ground towards\nRumpty-Dudget's tower: hardly creeping, either, for it moved faster\nthan a man could run. The cat helped Hilda and Harold to a seat on two\nof the largest leaves, while he himself clung to the stem; and so away\nthey went through the forest merrily. As they advanced the heavy grey\ncloud which had overcast all the heavens since Rumpty-Dudget's rule\nbegan was rolled back like a mighty scroll; and the pure sky, lit up\nwith the fresh sunshine of the early dawn, smiled above the mysterious\nforest. Then the forest too awoke to life and joyousness; the birds\nsang in the branches, and fragrant flowers, sparkling with dew, glowed\nin the happy glades with mingled tints of white, blue, and red. So on\nthey went, carrying with them the freshness and perfume of the\nmorning and of spring; and in a wonderfully short time the Golden Ivy\nhad brought them to the gates of Rumpty-Dudget's tower.\n\n'Jump down now,' said Tom, 'and leave the Golden Ivy to do the rest.'\n\nDown they all jumped accordingly, and stood at one side, near the\ncastle gates. But the Golden Ivy kept on, and threw itself across, the\nmoat, and clambered over the portcullis, and forced its way into the\ncourtyard, and writhed along the passages and up the staircases, until\n(in less time than it takes to write about it) the Ivy had reached the\nroom with the hundred-and-one corners. In the midst of this room stood\nRumpty-Dudget, having fled to it for safety; for it was defended by\nenchantments which only the Golden Ivy could have overcome. There he\nstood, trembling in his shoes, as well he might; and in all the\ncorners round about, with their faces to the wall and their hands\nbehind their backs, stood the poor little children that Rumpty-Dudget\nhad caught.\n\nBut they were not to stand there much longer, for Rumpty-Dudget's hour\nhad come! He tried to run away, but the terrible Golden Ivy ran after\nhim and caught him, and bound down his arms, and tied together his\nlegs, and clutched him around the throat, and squeezed him round the\nbody, and fastened its coils upon him tighter and tighter, until all\nthe mischief was squeezed out of him. But, since Rumpty-Dudget was\nentirely made of mischief, when all the mischief was squeezed out of\nhim of course there was no Rumpty-Dudget left--no, not so much as one\nof his shoe-buckles!\n\nAnd when Rumpty-Dudget had ceased to exist of course all the children\nwho had been made prisoners by his spells became free; and they came\nracing and shouting out of the grey tower, with little Prince Hector\nat their head. But when Hector saw his brother and sister, and they\nsaw him, they all three set up a cry of joy, and ran together and\nhugged and kissed each other heartily; for they felt as if they had\nbeen parted for a very long time.\n\nAt last Hilda said, 'Why, Hector, what has become of the black spot\nthat used to be on your chin? It is not there any more.'\n\n'It got rubbed off against the wall of the room with the\nhundred-and-one corners,' replied Hector demurely.\n\nAt that they all three laughed; but Hilda at least had tears in her\neyes.\n\n'And look at his hair and eyes!' exclaimed Harold; 'they are brown\nnow, instead of black, as they used to be. What is the reason of\nthat?'\n\n'It is the touch of the Golden Ivy,' said a voice behind them, which\nHilda fancied she had heard somewhere before.\n\nThe three children looked round, and saw a lady standing beside them,\ndazzlingly beautiful, with a crown on her head and a smile in her\neyes. They all knew her at once, though they had never seen her before\nexcept in their dreams. It was their Fairy Aunt.\n\n'But you look very much like the Queen our mother,' said Hilda.\n\n'And do I look like anyone besides her?' asked the lady, with a smile.\n\n'Yes, you are like the Queen of the Air Spirits!' exclaimed Hilda;\n'though you don't look so haughty as she did at first.'\n\n'Anyone else?' asked the lady again, speaking in a very gruff tone,\nand drawing her eyebrows together.\n\n'Dear me! that is the way the King of the Gnomes talked,' said Hilda,\nclasping her hands. 'Surely you couldn't have been him?'\n\n'Yes, my darlings,' said the lady, sitting down and drawing the three\nchildren to her lap, 'I am the Queen, your mother; though, by\nRumpty-Dudget's spells, I was obliged to leave you, and to be seen by\nyou only in your dreams at night. And I was what seemed to you the\nQueen of the Air Spirits, Hilda, and the King of the Gnomes as well;\nbecause love shows itself in many forms, and works for you above and\nbeneath, and both while you wake and while you sleep; but it is always\nthe same love in the end, and if you love one another you will find it\nout at last.'\n\n'After all,' said Hilda thoughtfully, 'I love you best as our own\nmamma. And you will always be our mamma, and be with us now, won't\nyou?'\n\n'Yes, my darlings,' answered the Queen, giving them all a hug and a\nkiss; 'there will be no more changes or partings, for Rumpty-Dudget\nand his tower are gone, and we are free.'\n\n'But where is Tom the Cat?' cried Hector all of a sudden, looking this\nway and that. 'We can never be happy anywhere without him.'\n\n'Oh, Tom has done his work, and we shall not see him any more,' said\nthe Queen, shaking her head mysteriously.\n\nBut at this all the children looked ready to cry.\n\n'Well, then, you shall have one more look at him,' said the Queen. She\nwore on her shoulders a long hooded mantle of the finest white fur. By\na sudden movement she drew this mantle round her, and pulled the hood\nover her head and face; and behold! there sat Tom the Cat, looking as\nnatural as possible, only that between the folds of the fur the\nchildren could see their mother's eyes laughing.\n\n'I have often looked out at you so before now,' she said, as she threw\nback the hood and mantle; 'and you would have seen me as plainly as\nyou do now, but that the spell prevented you. So, you see, we shall\ntake what was really Tom the Cat along with us, after all.'\n\n'Where are we going?' Harold asked.\n\n'To our home in Fairyland,' answered the Queen.\n\n'And are we never coming back here any more?' asked Hilda, glad to\ngo, and yet with almost a sigh.\n\n'No, we shall never see this land again,' the Queen replied. 'It was\nbeautiful, but all its beauty lives again in the land whither we go.\nAnd there are no Rumpty-Dudgets in that land, and no grey towers full\nof corners, and no prickly hedges, nor winds from the north. And all\nthe stars of the air and jewels of the earth are in that land, only\nmore glorious and splendid than those that Hilda saw. But why should I\ntell you about it, when you are going to see it all for yourselves\nthis very day? Are you ready?'\n\n'Yes!' said all the children together.\n\nThen she folded her arms about them, and they clung to her neck, and\nso they seemed to rise aloft in the warm air, and float towards the\nsouth. Far beneath them lay the tops of the tallest trees; but the\nchildren felt no fear. For they were going to their home in Fairyland;\nand they are all three living there, with the Queen their mother, to\nthis very day.\n\nBut Hilda's hair is golden still, and her eyes are blue.\n\n\n\n\nCALLADON.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nABRACADABRA.\n\n\nIf you were to take three hoops, the second half as large round as the\nfirst, and the third half as large round as the second, and lay them\non the floor one inside the other, you would have a ground-plan of the\nhouse in which Calladon lived. The outermost wall was built of brick,\nand had five narrow windows; the middle wall was of stone, and had\nalso five windows; the inner wall was of the purest alabaster, and was\na kind of window in itself.\n\nIn the centre of the innermost room a lamp was always burning, and the\nlight which it gave out was so soft and penetrating that it glowed\nthrough the alabaster walls and illuminated the room outside with a\npale white lustre, and some rays penetrated through the windows of\nthis room into the outermost room of all, and there met the darkness\nthat streamed in through the outer windows--for the house stood in\nthat part of the world where it is night all the year round. The name\nof the innermost room was Abra, that of the middle room was Cada, and\nthat of the outermost room was Bra. The whole house, therefore, was\ncalled Abracadabra.\n\nIt was a curious thing about this house, that if you were in Abra, you\ncould see into both Cada and Bra, but, if you were in Cada, you could\nnot see into Abra, and if you were in Bra, you could not see into\neither Abra or Cada. As a general thing, it is easier to see from\ndarkness towards light than from light towards darkness. But there was\nprobably something peculiar about this light--and, for the matter of\nthat, about this darkness too.\n\nAs for Calladon himself, he was one of the best-behaved boys ever\nknown, and he was not less good-looking than he was good. He was a\nfine, straight-backed, rosy-cheeked little fellow, with bright eyes, a\ncheerful voice, and an obedient spirit. He was seven years old, and\nknew as much as it is well for a boy of his age to know. This was due\nto the Master who had charge of him, and who had put across his breast\nthe gold sash, which always pressed against his heart when he wished\nto do wrong, and reminded him to stop. The Master had lived with\nCalladon ever since Calladon could remember, and probably for a good\nwhile before that. The Master had tended him in his illness, played\nwith him in his plays, helped him in his studies, and sympathised with\nhim in his troubles. Calladon loved the Master as much as if he had\nbeen his father and mother in one. Who his father and mother might be,\nhe, however, did not know; but the Master used to tell him that when\nhis education was finished he should see them.\n\nMeantime he was obliged to live in Abracadabra, and make the best of\nit. The only one of the three rooms which he had ever dwelt in, was\nthe central one, Abra; but there was plenty of entertainment to be had\nthere. In the first place, there was the lamp, which lit up not the\nroom only, but Calladon's mind likewise, so that the more it shone\nupon him, the better he understood his studies. And the lamp was warm\nas well as bright; so warm, that not only did it make the room\ncomfortable, but it warmed Calladon's heart likewise, and made him\nloving and generous. In the ceiling of the room a large ball of\ncrystal was hung on a sort of pivot, on which it could be turned at\npleasure. This crystal ball had the power of reflecting all the places\nbest worth seeing in the world, and casting the reflections on a white\ndisc arranged for the purpose underneath. It was by this means that\nCalladon had studied geography, and he had enjoyed the study more than\nmost boys do. At other times, the ball would bring the images of the\nstars on the disc, so that you would have thought you were aloft in\nthe sky, watching all the myriad worlds of light, and their movements.\nIt may be imagined, therefore, that although Abra did not appear to be\na large room, yet it must have been larger than it looked, since it\nwas able to contain within itself the whole earth and heaven. Beyond\ndoubt, Abra was a wonderful place, which everybody ought to see at\nsome time of their lives. The air you breathed there had a delicate\nbut powerful fragrance, as if it were life itself; and strangely\nbeautiful chords of music sounded ever and anon through the room,\ncoming from no visible instrument, but seeming to arise from the\nharmony and happiness in the heart of him who listened to it.\nMoreover, although there was not much furniture in the room, nor many\ntoys to play with, yet whenever Calladon needed anything, he was sure\nto find it ready to his hand. It is true that he seldom wished for\nanything that he ought not to have, and if he did, the pressure of the\ngolden sash across his heart warned him to forbear. In short, nothing\ncould be more delightful and satisfactory than were all the\narrangements in Abra; and, up to the time he was seven years old,\nCalladon had never wished for anything that it could not give him.\n\nSometimes he would amuse himself with looking through the alabaster\nwalls into the outer rooms, Cada and Bra. These had a beauty of their\nown, but it was easy to see that they were less beautiful than Abra.\nThe best use of them was, perhaps, to let it be known that Abra was\nbetter than they. Calladon once asked the Master about this, and he\nanswered:\n\n'If it were not for Abra, there could be no Cada, and no Bra. But\nneither could there be any Abra, if Cada and Bra did not surround it.\nThe alabaster wall would burst asunder, and the flame of the lamp\nwould burn up the world.'\n\n'Where did the lamp come from?' asked Calladon.\n\n'It was here before Abracadabra or the world existed,' the Master\nreplied, smiling; 'and it will burn for ever.'\n\n'Could not I put it out?'\n\n'No; but you might wander away from it into the darkness outside,'\nsaid the Master, in a graver tone.\n\n'But then could I not light a little lamp of my own, to see my way\nabout?' Calladon inquired.\n\n'Yes, you might do so,' the Master replied. 'But such a lamp would in\ntime burn out, and then you could never again relight it, and you\nwould be lost.'\n\n'I should not like that!' exclaimed Calladon. But after a while he\nadded, 'Still I do not understand why those two other rooms should be\nthere, since I never go into them.'\n\n'You live in them, even though you do not go into them,' the Master\nanswered. 'If you did go into them, you would not live in them so\nmuch as you do now, because you could not take the light of the lamp\nwith you.'\n\nCalladon said nothing more, but he became thoughtful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE LAW OF THE LAMP.\n\n\nOne morning, soon after Calladon's seventh birthday, the Master called\nhim to him and said:\n\n'My dear Calladon, you have now arrived at the age when I must leave\nyou for awhile, to think your own thoughts, and do your own deeds. I\nam going away, and it is uncertain when I may come back. Before I go I\nshall tell you a few things which I hope you will remember.'\n\n'But I should like to go with you,' said Calladon.\n\n'That may come to pass hereafter,' the Master replied, 'but not now,\nand it will depend upon what you do and think while I am parted from\nyou, whether or not it comes to pass at all.'\n\n'What is it that I must do?' inquired Calladon.\n\n'I cannot command you either to do or not to do anything,' the Master\nsaid, 'for I shall not be here to enforce obedience. But I have\nalready taught you many things, and, if you have studied them with\nyour whole heart and mind, they will direct you as well as I could\ndirect you myself. All I shall do, therefore, is to tell you what you\nhad best avoid doing, and then leave you to follow my advice or not,\nas you choose.'\n\n'Oh, there will be no trouble about that!' exclaimed Calladon\ncheerfully, 'for will not my golden sash press against my heart\nwhenever I go wrong, and remind me to turn back?'\n\n'No, for you will not wear the golden sash any more,' replied the\nMaster. 'You are no longer a little child, and you must no longer\ndepend on what touches your heart from the outside, but on what moves\nit from within.'\n\n'Well, I think I shall like that better, on the whole,' said Calladon.\n'It will make me feel more like a man. But what is it that I ought not\nto do, dear Master?'\n\n'You ought not to lose faith in the lamp,' answered the Master, 'for\nit gives you all you have, and all you are. And you ought not to\nleave Abra, for Abra only is Abracadabra. And you ought not to light a\nlamp of your own, for it would lead you into darkness.'\n\n'Is that all?' asked Calladon.\n\n'That is all I need tell you now,' said the Master; 'for if you obey\nthese three rules, you will not need to know more, and if you disobey\nthem, nothing more that I could say would help you.'\n\n'I would have done all that without being told,' said Calladon; 'and\nthe only thing I don't like is having nobody to see or to speak to.'\n\n'I have taken care about that,' replied the Master, with a smile, 'and\nyou will not be left entirely alone. When you wake up to-morrow\nmorning, you will find a little girl beside you. She is to be your\nplaymate and companion. She can help you to be happier and better than\nyou have ever been before; but she can also make you worse and more\nmiserable than if you were left by yourself. It will be according as\nyou treat her.'\n\n'Perhaps I had better not have her,' said Calladon.\n\n'You must run the risk; for without risk nothing that is really good\ncan be got,' replied the Master. 'She will not suggest either good or\nevil to you; but if your thoughts are good she will know it, and will\nhelp you to carry them out; and if your thoughts are evil, she will\nthink evil too, and will give you the means of doing it.'\n\n'Does she know all this?' Calladon asked.\n\n'She will know nothing except from you, and as long as you are\nobedient to what I have told you, she will be obedient to you. But if\nyou become disobedient, she will sooner or later begin to rule you;\nand whenever that happens you will be sure to suffer.'\n\n'Then it all depends on me?' said Calladon.\n\n'If harm comes, you will have no right to blame her,' the Master\nanswered; 'but if good comes, you will have no right to take the\ncredit to yourself.'\n\n'Well,' said Calladon, after thinking awhile, 'the safest thing will\nbe not to think of myself at all.'\n\n'There is one thing more,' said the Master, before taking leave of\nhim. 'You will find, hanging round Callia's neck (Callia is the name\nof your playmate), a little mirror, set in a frame of precious stones.\nThis mirror will always show you an image of yourself, not as you\nthink yourself to be, but as you really are. If you trust to what the\nmirror tells you, you will not know trouble; but if you disregard it,\nyou will be in danger. The mirror is the only thing that will always\ntell you the truth.'\n\n'I will always believe it,' said Calladon; and then the Master bade\nhim good night, and Calladon fell asleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nCALLIA AND THE MIRROR.\n\n\nThe next morning, when Calladon woke up, the first thing he saw was a\nlovely little girl slumbering beside him.\n\nFor a moment he was greatly astonished, for he had forgotten that the\nMaster had gone, and that he had promised him a companion. But\npresently the memory of the day before came back to him, and he\nrecollected that henceforth he was to take care of himself. The\nthought made him feel quite brave and manly; and with such a beautiful\nplaymate as this to keep him company, he felt sure that he would be\nthe happiest boy in the world. And as he wanted his happiness, and\nhers, to begin as soon as possible, he bent over and kissed her on the\nlips.\n\nShe opened a pair of lovely blue eyes, and yawned, and said--\n\n'Where am I? Oh! Calladon, is that you? How handsome you look, and\nhow good you are!'\n\n'How did you know me?' asked Calladon.\n\n'If I am Callia, you must be Calladon!' replied she, laughing. 'Who\nelse could you be?'\n\n'Now that I look in your eyes, it seems as if I must have always known\nyou!' said Calladon.\n\n'And I know you the same way,' said Callia.\n\n'But how did you get here?' he asked.\n\n'What a funny question! as if I had ever been anywhere else!'\n\n'It is very strange, however,' he said; 'for though I can remember\nliving here for a long time and not seeing you, still I cannot imagine\nyour ever having been away from me. We seem always to have been\ntogether.'\n\n'So we have,' replied Callia; 'and we will always stay together, won't\nwe?'\n\n'Indeed we will,' said Calladon; 'so now give me a kiss, and let us\nhave our breakfast.'\n\nTheir breakfast was there waiting for them, as was everything else\nthey needed; and while they were eating it they talked about what they\nwould do during the day. They soon found out that the difficulty\nwould be to make a choice from the many pleasant things that suggested\nthemselves; and whatever one proposed, the other declared to be more\ndelightful than anything yet. And after all, what could be more\ndelightful than simply to be together? Calladon was more pleased in\nknowing that Callia was pleased than he could have been at anything\nthat merely pleased himself; and his pleasure gave greater pleasure to\nCallia than any pleasure of her own could have done. What they did,\ntherefore, on this first day, was not of nearly so much importance to\nthem as that they did it together; and when the day came to an end (as\nit did, more quickly than any day that either of them could remember)\nall they knew was that it had been one song of joy. As to doing\nanything that the Master had warned them against, they really had not\nhad time so much as to think of such a thing.\n\nBut night came at last, and they found themselves getting sleepy.\nBefore going to bed, Calladon said--\n\n'By the way, Callia, have you got a mirror round your neck?'\n\n'Do you mean this pretty little thing, set in precious stones? Shall\nI give it to you, dearest Calladon?'\n\n'Oh, no; only the Master said that I was to look in it every once in a\nwhile, to find out what I really am.'\n\n'You really are the handsomest and dearest boy in the world, and so\nthe mirror will tell you,' said Callia; and she held it up before him\nas she spoke. Calladon looked; and certainly the mirror did show him\nthe image of a very charming little face and figure. It told the\ntruth, and the truth was very agreeable.\n\n'I am glad of it for your sake, Callia,' said Calladon. 'I hope I\nshall always be as handsome as you want me to be.'\n\n'I don't mind whether you are handsome or not, as long as you are\nCalladon,' she answered.\n\n'It seems to me, Callia, that if I have you, and you have me, we do\nnot need anything else.'\n\n'And it would not make any difference whether we were in Abra or not.'\n\n'I should hardly mind even if the lamp were to go out,' said\nCalladon.\n\n'I only care for the lamp because it lets me see you,' she answered.\n\n'And because it lets me see myself in the mirror.'\n\n'Why should you believe the mirror more than me?' asked Callia.\n\n'Well, if you think I am handsome, it is not so much matter whether\nthe mirror tells me I am or not,' returned Calladon.\n\nAnd with this they kissed each other, and fell asleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE OUTER ROOMS.\n\n\nWhen they awoke next day, Calladon stretched himself, and shivered a\nlittle. The lamp seemed to be burning rather more dimly than usual,\nand the air seemed thin and cold. Glancing at Callia, who was lying\nwith her eyes still half closed, his eye caught the sparkle of the\nmirror round her neck, and he took a peep into it. It seemed to him\nthat his cheeks looked pale, and his eyes dull.\n\n'Callia!' he exclaimed, 'Callia! wake up, and tell me how I look.'\n\n'You look just the same,' answered she, opening her eyes and sitting\nup. 'But don't you think it is colder than it was yesterday?'\n\n'I was sure it was; and if you feel it too, it must be so. But are you\nquite certain that I look as well and handsome as when you first saw\nme? because, in the mirror, I seemed to be pale and dull.'\n\n'The mirror must be wrong, then,' said Callia; 'for I can see you with\nmy own eyes, and of course I should know if there were any\ndifference.'\n\n'Well,' said Calladon, 'I suppose it is time we had our breakfast.'\n\nThe breakfast was there, but it was neither so good nor so plentiful\nas before; and Calladon and Callia felt comparatively little appetite.\nThis displeased them; and they began to ask each other how they should\ncontrive to amuse themselves during the day. They proposed many\nthings, but afterwards rejected them, either because they had done\nthem yesterday, or because they did not find them any longer\nattractive.\n\n'This is rather a small room, after all, for two people to pass their\nlives in,' remarked Calladon at last.\n\n'Especially when there are two other larger ones outside,' added\nCallia.\n\n'It would be good fun to explore them, wouldn't it?' said Calladon.\n\n'Why shouldn't we do it?' asked Callia.\n\n'It makes me feel quite lively again to think of it,' exclaimed\nCalladon, springing to his feet. 'Only,' he added, 'that is one of the\nthings the Master told us not to do.'\n\n'Oh, I don't believe the Master would mind,' said Callia. 'Besides,\nhow should he ever know anything about it? He has gone away.'\n\n'Of course, too, it is our own affair,' observed Calladon. 'If any\nharm comes of it, it will be to ourselves, and not to him.'\n\n'I am not afraid,' said Callia. 'Are you?'\n\n'Not in the least. By the way, though, I am not sure that I know the\nway out of Abra. There doesn't seem to be any door.'\n\n'I think I can find the way, if that is all,' returned Callia. 'I\ndon't know how I happened to think of it--but since we have been\ntalking about going, it has seemed to me that if we were to push\nagainst that little carved knob in the wall, it would open a passage\ninto the room outside. Shall we try it?'\n\n'Yes,' said Calladon; 'it can do no harm to see whether you are right,\nat all events.' So they went to the knob, and Calladon gave it a push.\n\n'Not that way; you should push it sideways; see--like this,' said\nCallia; and she shoved it a little towards the right. Sure enough, a\npart of the alabaster wall slid back, so that the children were able\nto look into the room beyond.\n\n'It seems rather dark; don't you think so?' remarked Calladon, drawing\nback after a moment.\n\n'We must take a lamp along with us,' said Callia. 'That lamp that\nburns in the centre of the room will be no use to us. We shan't be\nable to see anything without a lamp of our own.'\n\n'Well, I suppose we must,' said Calladon. 'Now I think of it, though,\nthat was another of the things the Master said we ought not to do.'\n\n'What did he say would happen to us if we did do it?'\n\n'I don't remember his saying anything.'\n\n'Of course he didn't! because nothing will happen, except that we\nshall know more than we could know by staying here. He was only trying\nwhether he could frighten you.'\n\n'You shall see that I am not so easily frightened,' said Calladon. 'I\nam a man now, and able to take care of myself. Come, let us light a\nlamp of our own and go. I will show you the way.'\n\n'Here is a lamp,' said Callia. 'I just found it on this little shelf\nin the corner, though I had not seen it there before. But how shall we\nlight it?'\n\n'We must light it from the great lamp; there is no other way.'\n\n'But then it will be the light of that great lamp that will guide us,\nafter all.'\n\n'No,' said Calladon, 'because the part of the flame that we take away\nwill become our own, and would keep on burning even if the great lamp\nwere to go out.'\n\nThey lit the lamp accordingly. As they did so, the air around them\ngrew colder than before, and a gust of strangely melancholy music\nsighed through the room. From the crystal ball in the roof overhead\nthere came a red reflection, as of some terrible fire burning in the\nworld without; and then a white flash, as if an angel's sword had\nsuddenly been thrust down into the room. Now the sword seemed to be\nbrandished about the great lamp, its point against the children, who\nshrank back in fear towards the alabaster wall. Still the sword\nthreatened them; and there was a violent rush of icy wind, which\nforced them to the opening leading to the outer chamber. For a moment\nthey tried to struggle against it, and not to be driven from the\nalabaster room in which they had lived so happily; but the blast grew\nstronger, and the sword came nearer; and at last Callia cried out:\n\n'Let us go, Calladon, or our light will be lost!'\n\n'Come, then!' said he; and hand in hand they staggered through the\nopening, which closed behind them with a hollow sound. Then there was\nsilence. Save for the wavering flame of their little lamp they were in\ndarkness.\n\n'What have you done, Callia?' said Calladon.\n\n'It is your doing as much as mine,' she answered. 'Well, I suppose we\nmust make the best of it. At any rate, it is not so cold here as it\nwas in the other room.'\n\n'No, and there is not that terrible light to dazzle our eyes. And that\nsword--we are safe from that!'\n\n'I think, upon the whole, we are better off where we are; and I am\nglad we came,' said Callia. 'It is more mysterious here, and I like\nmystery. If you can see everything around you merely by opening your\neyes, it is stupid. Here we have the excitement of going about and\nnot knowing what we may find.'\n\n'It is strange it should be so dark!' remarked Calladon. 'On which\nside of us is the alabaster wall? No light comes through either side;\nand yet, when we were in Abra, it seemed to shine through and\nilluminate both the outer rooms.'\n\n'The great lamp must have gone out; all lamps go out after a while, I\nsuppose,' replied Callia. 'But that is no harm; when we go back we can\nlight it again from our own. It does not seem so dark here as it was\nat first.'\n\n'I can see better, too!' exclaimed Calladon. 'Our lamp seems to be\ngetting brighter. By and by, perhaps, it will be as bright as the\ngreat lamp was.'\n\n'Meanwhile,' said Callia, 'let us begin our explorations.'\n\nHolding the lamp before them, they advanced together curiously through\nthe gloom; but, as Calladon had said, their lamp seemed continually to\ngrow brighter, or else their eyes became more accustomed to the\ndarkness, so that presently they were able to see their way with\nlittle difficulty. The walls of the room they were in were sombre and\nrich; there were carved panels and cornices of metal or stone,\nencrusted here and there with what appeared to be precious stones,\ngleaming with a dusky red lustre. There was gold, too, here and there;\nbut not bright and resplendent, like the gold of Abra, but dull and\ntarnished, so that it might almost have been mistaken for rusty brass.\nAs they went along, the black smoke from their candle rose in the air,\nand collected in clouds beneath the heavy groined roof, until it hung\nabove them like a murky canopy. From this canopy a stifling odour\ndescended, and was diffused about the room; but, strange to say, the\nchildren seemed to breathe it with pleasure, and to grow stronger and\nlivelier under its influence. At length they came to a great heap of\nsome dark substance, piled up in an obscure corner.\n\n'What is this?' said Calladon, stirring it with his foot.\n\nCallia stooped down and took up a piece of it in her hand. 'It\nshines,' she said. 'It must be something valuable. Hold the lamp\nnearer.'\n\n'It is certainly some kind of jewel,' said Calladon, after they had\nexamined it. 'Perhaps it is a ruby, or a black diamond. Such things\nare very precious.'\n\n'We had better take what we can get, then,' said Callia; 'we shall not\nfind anything like this in Abra--of that I am sure. How foolish you\nwere, Calladon, never to have thought of coming in here before. It is\nten times better than the other place!'\n\n'I will fill my pockets now, at all events,' replied Calladon, 'and\nmake up for lost time. What a heap of them! and how heavy they are!\nI'm afraid we shan't be able to carry them all.'\n\n'I can hold a great many in my apron,' said Callia; 'and we can take\nthem to some safe place, and then come back for more. I wonder whom\nthey belong to?'\n\n'They belong to us, since we have found them,' returned Calladon; 'and\nif anyone says they are his, we can say it is not true. Who has more\nright here than we?'\n\n'I don't see why we should go back at all,' observed Callia. 'I feel\nmuch more comfortable and happy in this pleasant light and smoke than\nI did in that glaring white Abra, with its cold air and its tiresome\nmusic. Suppose we make our home here?'\n\n'I was going to propose the same thing,' answered Calladon. 'And I\nhave been thinking, Callia, that perhaps this is the real Abra that we\nare in now. For what can be better than what we like best?'\n\nAs Callia was about to reply, they heard a flapping sound in the air\nabove their heads; and looking up, they saw a hideous great bird--or\nperhaps it was a bat--with black wings outstretched, fiery eyes, and a\nlong hooked beak, that it kept opening and shutting with a snap. At\nthis sight the children were much terrified, and started to run away;\nbut the horrid bird followed them in the air, swooping downwards every\nnow and then, and pecking at them with its beak, or trying to tear\nthem with its ugly claws. At length, however, they managed to conceal\nthemselves behind a buttress in the wall; and the bird flapped by, and\nleft them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nREGENERATION.\n\n\n'It will not do to stay here,' said Calladon, as soon as he had caught\nhis breath. 'That creature probably owns the jewels, and we should\nnever be safe from him. And I have lost ever so many of the stones\nwhile----' Here Calladon broke off suddenly, and uttered a cry.\n\n'What is the matter?' asked Callia. 'Is the creature here again?'\n\nBut Calladon was staring at the mirror which still hung round Callia's\nneck, and he looked as if he had seen a ghost.\n\n'Tell me, Callia,' he said; 'tell me quick! Am I the same as I was\nbefore?'\n\n'Just the same, except that you look very much scared at something.'\n\nCalladon gave a shudder. 'Then the glass tells what is false,' said\nhe. 'It makes me seem like a hideous little deformed dwarf, with a\nhump on my back, and one shoulder higher than the other, and a\nhateful face all covered with sores and bruises. If I look like that,\nI must be more horrible than anything we are likely to see here.'\n\n'The mirror tells lies, that is all,' replied Callia, scornfully. 'If\nI were you, I would not look in it again. I can tell you all you need\nto know about yourself. But I think we had better attend to getting\naway from here now. There seems to be a hole through the wall just\nwhere we are standing. It must lead into the next room.'\n\n'Let us creep through then,' said Calladon. 'That flying creature will\nnot be likely to follow us there; and as well as I can see, it looks\nmore comfortable there than here. At all events, it is further from\nAbra, and that is reason enough for going.'\n\n'Mind that the lamp doesn't go out, then,' said Callia, 'and come\nalong!'\n\nThey crawled through the opening (which was, in reality, one of the\nfive windows of Cada) and found themselves standing in something soft\nand slippery, like mud. The walls were covered with damp mould an inch\nthick; spotted toadstools grew in the crevices of the stones, and\nfestoons of decaying weeds hung from the roof. There was a low\ncrackling sound in the air, like the noise of burning wood, and hot\npuffs of steamy vapour were wafted into the children's faces, smelling\nlike the inside of a pig-sty. Strange to say, however, neither\nCalladon nor Callia appeared to find this odour disagreeable, but\nquite the contrary; and they went onwards with evident gratification.\n\n'The more I think about it, Callia,' said Calladon, 'the surer I am\nthat this must be the real Abra. Could anything be more delightful\nthan this thick air, that you can see as well as breathe; and this\nfloor, all soft and sticky--not hard and dry like the other; and these\nbeautiful walls, covered with that curious green stuff; and then the\ntoadstools and the weeds? What a lucky thing that we thought of\ncoming!'\n\n'And how much wiser we are than we were before!' added Callia. 'When I\nwas in that dreadful white place, I used to feel as if I knew almost\nnothing, and as if the great lamp were the only light in the world.\nBut now that we have a light of our own, it is easy to see that we\nknow almost everything, and by the time we have explored this place,\nthere will be nothing we do not know.'\n\n'This mud must be very valuable,' said Calladon, after a while; 'for I\nnever saw anything like it before. Don't you think it would be a good\nthing if we were to smear ourselves all over with it, and then hang\nsome of those lovely weeds round our necks?'\n\nCallia was delighted with this idea, and the two forthwith sat\nthemselves down in the softest mud-heap they could find, and began to\ncover themselves with mud very diligently. After this had gone on for\nsome time, however, Callia suddenly gave a shriek.\n\n'What is the matter?' asked Calladon.\n\n'The snake! the snake!' cried Callia. 'It is winding itself all round\nme!'\n\n'And round me too!' screamed Calladon. 'Oh, what shall we do?'\n\nIn fact, the mud with which they had covered themselves had become\nalive, and was coiling itself tightly about them in the form of\nserpents. There were already scores of them, and more seemed to be\ncoming to life every moment. They tried to run away, but the serpents\ntwined about their limbs and tripped them up. There seemed to be no\nescape; and now, to make matters worse, Calladon's lamp flickered and\nwent out.\n\n'We shall die!' moaned the children. 'Oh, will no one help us!'\n\nThen a sound was heard like an earthquake, and the walls that\nseparated them from Abra were rent asunder, and a terrible white light\nstreamed forth, and fell upon the unhappy children. In that light they\nlooked at one another, and saw that they were deformed and hideous\nbeyond the power of words to describe. The next instant the walls\nclosed together again, but a faint illumination still remained, in\nwhich Calladon and Callia again seemed to themselves to resume their\nnatural form. But even then, Calladon caught a glimpse of himself in\nthe enchanted mirror; and there was once more the crook-backed,\ngrisly-faced dwarf that had frightened him in Cada, now made more ugly\nyet by the serpent-mud of Bra.\n\n'Oh, Callia, it is the truth!' groaned he. 'Our own eyes have deceived\nus, and our lamp has led us astray; but in the mirror is the light of\nthe great lamp, and it shows me as I really am.'\n\n'Yes, it is the truth!' answered Callia. 'It must be so!'\n\n'It is well that you have found it out, even so late as this,' said a\nstern voice close behind them; and looking round, the children saw a\ntall, threatening figure, with angry eyes, and in his hand a heavy\nwhip.\n\n'Who is it?' faltered the children to each other, with trembling\nvoices.\n\n'I am he who built Abracadabra,' replied he of the angry eyes,\nbrandishing his whip. 'I built it clean and wholesome, and you have\nmade it a place of mud and serpents, and all unclean things. This dirt\nin which you have wallowed is the evil that has come out of your own\nminds and hearts, and these snakes were called into life by the light\nof the lamp which you stole from the lamp of Abra. Therefore your doom\nis, to repair the mischief you have done. You shall cleanse these\nrooms that you have defiled, until they are as pure as they appeared\nwhen you looked on them through the alabaster wall. From this hour,\ntoo, you shall see each other no more until your work is done. As you\nwere given to each other for happiness, so, since you have disobeyed\nthe law by which alone your happiness could be everlasting, you shall\nbe separated to do your penance. And I will stand over you with the\nwhip; and every time you pause to breathe or rest, you shall be\ndriven onwards with a blow.'\n\nScarcely had the tall man uttered these awful words, than Calladon saw\nCallia suddenly vanish from his side; and at the same moment he felt\nthe heavy stroke of the whip across his shoulders, and heard the stern\nvoice bidding him work. So to work he went with all his might; and\nwith his bare hands--for no tools were given him--he strove to scrape\naway the mud from the floor, and to clear the mould from the walls,\nand to pull down the decaying weeds that dangled from the roof. But,\nfor a long time, he seemed to make no progress; the mud rose before\nhim in mountains; the mould collected on the walls as fast as he swept\nit down, and the weeds hung from the roof in thicker masses.\nNevertheless, if he stopped to take breath or rest, down came the\nheavy whip with relentless blows; his skin was cut and bleeding, his\nface was bruised, and the bones of his back were broken. With tears\nand groans he struggled on; and ever and anon in the darkness near him\nhis ear caught the sound of sobbing and piteous cries, and the voice\nthat uttered them reminded him of the voice of Callia.\n\nThus he strove for many weary hours; and at last it seemed to him that\nhe could strive no more, yet half his work was still undone. But the\nthought that, unless it were finished, he would see Callia no more,\ngave him new strength, and he fell to again, and worked like a\nwhirlwind; and the mountains of mud gave way before him, and the mould\nfell from the walls in showers, and the dangling weeds were swept down\nin mighty heaps. And although the blows of the whip still fell, they\nno longer weakened him as before, but made his strength greater.\nIndeed, it seemed to him as if he were inspired with a strength not\nhis own, and as if, when the work were done, it would be the\nachievement not of himself, but of a mightier than he. In the midst of\nthese thoughts the gloom suddenly brightened, and he saw that his work\nwas done.\n\n'Well, Calladon, what do you think of yourself?' said the tall man, in\na somewhat less stern tone than before. 'Are you as handsome as you\nonce were?'\n\nSo Calladon looked at himself; and he saw that he was begrimed with\ndirt, and that his back had been broken by the whip, and one shoulder\nmade higher than the other; and his face was bruised and covered with\nsores. There was nothing beautiful about him.\n\n'I have become what the mirror has already showed me that I was,' he\nsaid humbly. 'But I would rather seem as ugly as I am, than seem\nbeautiful when I am ugly.'\n\n'Calladon,' said the tall man again, 'your work is done, and you\ndeserve some reward. You may choose what it shall be; but I will tell\nyou beforehand that, if you choose to be made beautiful again as you\nwere before, it shall be done.'\n\n'I would rather be made happy.' replied Calladon, 'and it would make\nme happy if I could see Callia once more.'\n\n'So be it!' said the tall man, kindly. 'Come with me!'\n\nHe took Calladon by the hand, and instantly the light grew brighter;\nthe dark walls grew white; there was a sound of music in the air, and\na delicate perfume of flowers came to Calladon's nostrils. He looked\nup and saw that he was in Abra; and the great lamp burned in the\ncentre as before.\n\n'Oh, not here!' he exclaimed, shrinking back and hiding his face. 'I\nam not fit to be seen in the light of Abra!'\n\n'Take courage,' said his guide. 'Callia is here. See, she is asleep.\nGo to her, Calladon, and look in the mirror on her bosom.'\n\nSo Calladon drew near, and looked into the magic mirror. But instead\nof a hideous and misshapen little dwarf, it showed him the image of a\nnoble and beautiful boy, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. At the same\nmoment Callia awoke; and seeing Calladon, she sprang up with a cry of\njoy and kissed him. She was as lovely as the day.\n\n'The mirror tells you the truth now as always, Calladon,' said the\nMaster's loving voice--for it was he. And he laid his hand upon him,\nand instantly the deformed shell in which Calladon was clothed fell\nfrom him, and he was more beautiful than ever. From that time forth\nthere was no unhappiness for either Callia or Calladon, because they\nhad learnt that the light of Abra was the only true light, and that\ntheir strength was not their own.\n\n\n\n\nTHEEDA.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE BOOK AND THE VASE.\n\n\nOscar lived beside the sea, and had no companions except the waves,\nthe seagulls, the sunsets and sunrises, the moonlight and the shore.\nHe was happy, and yet there was something that he wanted. He could not\ntell what that something was, but he did not the less feel the need of\nit on that account.\n\nHe knew that he had a father, but he had never seen him. He knew that\nhis father cared for him, and gave him what he needed to eat and drink\nand wear. His mother had told him that his father was wise and\npowerful and good; and that once, before Oscar was old enough to\nremember anything, he had lived with her in the cottage beside the\nsea. But soon after Oscar was born, his father had left them and gone\nacross the sea to another country. When a few more years had passed,\nhe had sent for Oscar's mother to follow him, and she had gone. Oscar\ncould just remember the ship which had taken her away. He had sat in\nthe cottage doorway, and watched the ship grow smaller and smaller as\nit receded over the waves. At first its sails had looked dark, because\nthey were against the light; but a moment before it touched the\nhorizon, where earth and heaven meet, the great white light from\nbeyond had touched the sails, and made them gleam like angels' wings.\nThen ship and sails had settled into a lustrous invisibility; a long\nwave had broken with a hollow sound upon the shore, and a feeling of\ntender sadness had come into the little boy's heart.\n\nAlthough he was alone, however, he was not lonely; there was a great\ndeal to amuse him. The cottage, which was made out of the hull of an\nold fishing boat, was as pleasant a place to live in as a boy could\nwish. It was divided into two rooms, in one of which Oscar slept, and\nin the other he ate his dinner. The furniture was very simple--a bed,\na chair or two, a table, and a bookshelf; but these were all that\nOscar required; and besides, he spent most of his time outdoors. There\nwere two other things in the dining-room, however, for which he cared\nvery much. One was a large book, which lay on the bookshelf. It was a\ngift which his father had left for him when he went away. It was a\nlarge heavy book, with a dark binding and a golden clasp. This clasp\ncould be opened only by pronouncing over it certain words which\nOscar's father had bade the boy's mother teach him when he should be\nold enough. These words were a secret, and if the secret were\nbetrayed, certain penalties would follow. It was Oscar's habit, on\ngetting up every morning, to take the book from the bookshelf, and\nhaving spoken the magic words, to open it and read. Now, the pages of\nthe book appeared like ordinary printed pages, and if anyone besides\nOscar had looked into them, they would have read only a number of\nstories which were not very interesting, and which did not seem to be\nof any especial importance to anybody. But with Oscar it was very\ndifferent; for, as the morning sunshine fell upon the page, he saw,\nnot the printed words, but wonderful pictures, which lived and moved,\nand had many strange and beautiful meanings. The pictures were\nsomething like the world in which the boy lived, but much brighter\nand more glorious, and the people who moved in them were far nobler\nand handsomer than any that Oscar could have imagined; and chief among\nthem was a grand figure which the boy recognised as his father. While\ngoing over the pages of this mysterious book, therefore, Oscar, in his\nlonely cottage, was able to see with his own eyes all the mighty deeds\nthat his father had done, and even many of those that he was at that\nmoment doing; for the book was a living book, and though it told of\nmarvels in comparison with which all other fairy stories would seem\ndull and commonplace, yet these marvels were all true. By studying\nthat book a man could become wiser than the wisest of philosophers,\nand see more than the greatest of travellers, and yet remain as simple\nas a little child. It would take a long time to tell you even a few of\nthe wonders which this book held between its dark covers. One of them\nwas, that if Oscar was in any trouble, he had but to open his book,\nand the pictures would show him how the trouble was to be overcome.\nEvery pain that he could suffer, and every difficulty that he could\nmeet, had been met and suffered by his father long before; so that by\nseeing what his father had done, he learned what was the best thing to\ndo himself. For Oscar was like his father, though he was but a little\nboy.\n\nThe other thing that the dining-room contained was a large crystal\nvase, which stood in the window. It had seven sides, and was so large\nround that Oscar could not make his arms meet about it. It was filled\nwith the purest water, and at the bottom were sand and pebbles, and\ndelicate seaweeds, red and green, and pieces of rock covered with\ncurious mosses and tinted lichens. It was like a little sea, only that\nthere were no living animals in it. But under the shadow of one of the\nrocks lay a large pearl shell, which Oscar fancied must hold some\nliving thing, although, often as he had watched it, it had never yet\nmoved or opened. But the boy had faith and patience, and every new day\nhe went to the vase, in the hope that now at last something might have\ncome from the pearl shell. It lay quiet, however, and kept its secret\nto itself. It must certainly be a pleasant secret, Oscar thought, for\nthe shell was exquisitely curved, and its pearly sides shone with a\ndelicate lustre. And the more he pondered over the matter, the surer\nhe became that the vase must have been given for the sake of the\nshell, and that by-and-by the shell would show why it was there.\nSometimes he felt tempted to take it out of the water, and try whether\nhe could see inside of it. But he could never quite bring himself to\ndo this, because, though the vase and the shell were his own, he felt\nthat they had been given to him to look at, and not to meddle with. In\nhis book, too, he saw that the night always comes before the morning,\nand the winter before the spring; and though he did not understand why\nthat should be so--why the morning should not begin just after the sun\nhad set, and the spring buds and flowers come out as soon as the red\nand yellow leaves of autumn had fallen--yet he saw that one wave\nfollowed another to break against the shore, and that every flower was\na bud before it was a blossom, and that no happiness was so happy as\nthat which had been waited for; so he believed that the secret of the\nshell would disclose itself when the right time should come, and\nthat to try to find it out beforehand would perhaps be to lose it\naltogether. Moreover, was not the shell beautiful enough as it was?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nOSCAR INSIDE OUT.\n\n\nWhen these early morning hours were over, Oscar used to go out of the\ncottage and wander about beside the sea. The waves murmured to him,\nand the sun was warm; the seagulls wheeled above his head and screamed\nwith their wild voices; great white clouds built themselves into\ncities and palaces before his eyes; lights and shadows wavered\neverywhere, and made the grey rocks and the distant mountains seem\nalive; winds whispered in the long grass, and sang crooning melodies\nin the branches of the trees; little insects and animals ran hither\nand thither, and seemed busy even when they were doing nothing.\nSometimes the rain fell, making a secret sound in the leaves, and\ncausing the surface of the clear pools to leap aloft in tiny pyramids;\nthen the green plants stood up and stretched out their stems, taking\ntheir wetting gladly, and growing taller after it, though it had made\nthem bob their heads. With the evening, splendid colours came along\nthe sky, though the hand that painted them was not seen: they, too,\nspoke a kind of language; the glories of the day that was past, and\nthe thoughts and hopes that Oscar had had, seemed to glow in the\nheavens as they glowed in the boy's memory. They faded at last, and\nnight darkened the world, so that Oscar might not forget the moon and\nstars. These never slept, and therefore Oscar knew that he might\nsleep. The rays that came from them found their way silently into his\nheart, and filled it with the fresh and quiet fancies that afterwards\ngrew into dreams. For his dreams did not come from the world he lived\nin, but from some other.\n\nBut what was this that the waves and the birds, and the light and\nshadow, and the trees and the rain, and all the rest of it, were\ntrying to say to him? Was it really anything? and if it were, why\ncould he not understand it? Sometimes he thought he almost understood\nit. If the things would speak a very little plainer, or if he could\nsee and hear the least bit more clearly, there would be no more\nmystery. He thought they would say, 'Oscar, we are like you. We are\nhere because you are here. If you were not Oscar, we should not be\nwhat we are. And if we were not here you could not speak, nor think,\nnor be glad or sorry.' But they never did quite say this. Therefore\nOscar was not quite content, and he felt that he needed something, he\nknew not what, more than the earth and the sea and the sky had given\nhim. They were so friendly to him that they made him long for a nearer\nfriendship still. He could not come closer to them; and if they could\nnot come closer to him, must not something be wrong? He found them\nalways fresh, and full of new things that never came to an end; they\nwere alive, but the life they had was not quite the same as his own\nlife. The world was so big that he could not put his arms round it and\nhug it; it was calm and orderly, and although he could never get to\nthe end of the new things that were in it, yet he knew that every year\nit was the same world that it had been before. It was not so with him;\nfor, in spite of his being always Oscar, he knew every day that he\nnever had been and never would be exactly the same Oscar that he was\nat that moment. So the world was not only too big for him, but, in\nanother way, it was too small for him also. The world could live only\na year, after all, since one of its years was the same as another; but\nOscar felt that he could live innumerable years, because no one of his\nyears was the same as any other. Oh, if he could only find something\nto love that would grow in the same way that he grew, and answer him\nwhen he spoke, and be in all ways both as large and as small as he! Up\nand down the shore Oscar wandered, and through the green shade of the\nrustling forest, and with his eyes he sought amidst the clouds and the\nstars, but the thing that he wanted he did not find.\n\nWhen the rain came down too hard, Oscar would stay within the cottage,\nand study his book, or watch his pearl-shell, or sometimes go into the\nbedroom and look at the things his mother had left behind her. They\nwere very ordinary things, and there were very few of them; but they\nwere dearer to Oscar than anything else. Here was the jacket his\nmother used to wear, and against which Oscar's face had often rested,\nwhile she nursed him in her arms, or lulled him to sleep. It was full\nof wrinkles and stains, and was torn in one or two places; but it was\nhis own mother's own jacket, and made him think so vividly of her kind\nface and loving eyes and warm soft arms, that he would heave a deep\nsigh, and sit still with his eyes very wide open. Then there was the\ncomb that his mother used to wear in her hair. It was made of white\nivory prettily carved. Oscar remembered how his mother used sometimes\nto take out this comb while he was sitting on her lap, and let her\nhair tumble down about her shoulders; and she used to let him feel its\nsmoothness with his small hands, and taught him how to braid it by\nweaving three strands of it in and out.\n\nThe feelings that Oscar had while sitting in the bedroom with these\nand other things that had belonged to his mother were very different\nfrom any that came to him while he was outdoors. They were less\ncheerful than his outdoor feelings, but he liked them better. For in\nthinking of his mother he forgot himself; he had been able to put his\narms round his mother's neck and to kiss her cheek. She had loved him\nand called him by his name; he had known that no other boy could be to\nher what he was; she had comforted him when he was hurt or grieved;\nshe had been made to be his mother, as he had been made to be her son.\nIt was not so with the world outdoors--with the earth and the sea and\nthe sky. These had been made for Oscar perhaps; but if Oscar had been\nsome other boy they would still have remained. They belonged to him\nonly because he was a boy, and not because he was the boy Oscar.\nTherefore he could not forget himself in loving and giving himself to\nthem, as he had done in loving and giving himself to his mother. All\nthis brought him to think that unless, out of the earth and sea and\nsky, something could come to him that should both bring them nearer\nand yet be different from them, the promise which they seemed to hold\nout to him would not be fulfilled. It was not a bigger or a more\nbeautiful world that he wanted, but a world within the world, which\nshould contain all that made the outer world beautiful and lovable,\nand something more besides. Such a world within the world his mother\nhad been to him; but it was not his mother that the boy looked for,\nbecause he knew that she was gone never to return. What was it then?\nOscar did not yet know; but now something began to stir within him\nthat seemed to mean that the answer would not be long delayed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE PEARL-SHELL'S GIFT.\n\n\nOne morning, as he was sitting with his book open upon his knees, the\npage at which he looked seemed suddenly to be overspread with a grey\ncloud. At first he could not see through the cloud, but after a while\nlights and shadows began to stir duskily within it, and presently he\nsaw, as through a mist, some one walking along a lonely pathway in a\nforest. The mist gradually cleared away, but the face of the person\nwas turned from him, so that it could not be known who he was. The\nperson came to an opening amidst the trees, overspread with soft green\ngrass and flowers of many hues. In the centre of this grass-plot was a\nfountain, bubbling up like living crystal from a basin of sparkling\nsand. Around the margin were the golden smile of buttercups and the\nblue glance of forget-me-nots. The wanderer drew near and bent over\nthe fountain. Then, out of the pure water, an arm was stretched\nupwards, holding in its hand a radiant pearl. The wanderer took the\npearl, and then the mysterious hand and arm were drawn under the water\nagain and disappeared. The wanderer looked at the pearl and seemed to\nrejoice in it, as well he might; for it was the most precious of all\npearls. But while he was rejoicing, a man came up to him who, though\nhe had eyes and a tongue, was both dumb and blind; but he talked very\nrapidly with his fingers, as most dumb persons can do; and he used his\nnose instead of eyes, for he judged whether or not a thing were\nbeautiful or valuable by smelling of it. The wanderer spoke to this\nodd person, and bade him look at the pearl and rejoice with him. But\nthe other shook his head contemptuously, and said with his fingers\nthat his eyes were not made to see, and that seeing was all folly and\ndeception; and that a good nose was worth all the eyesight in the\nworld. So, instead of looking at the pearl he smelt of it, and after\ndoing so again shook his head contemptuously, and pulled out of his\npocket a raw onion. 'Smell of that,' he said with his fingers; 'that\nis worth all the pearls in the world!' and then he began to try to\npersuade the owner of the pearl, by many clever and cunning\narguments, to throw the pearl away, and take an onion in its stead.\nOscar bent forward in great eagerness to see whether the owner of the\npearl could possibly be so foolish as to let himself believe that the\nmost precious pearl in the world could be exchanged for an onion; but\njust then the mist arose once more, and rapidly deepened to an\nimpenetrable cloud, and the figures of both the man with the pearl and\nof the man with the onion were blotted out. Oscar closed the book. All\nthe rest of the day he could think of nothing but this strange\npicture; and he wondered deeply whether the blind man with the onion\nhad succeeded in making the other man as blind as himself. If only the\ncloud had held back a few minutes longer!\n\nBefore Oscar went to bed he looked into the crystal vase, to see\nwhether there were any change in the shell. For the first time it\nseemed to him that it had really moved a little. But the light was so\ndim that he could not be sure. Out of the window the sea had a\nmarvellous twinkle of moonlight over it, and the night air was cool\nand sweet. Suddenly, a hideous bat, with broad noiseless wings of\nfilmy black, hovered into the room, poised itself for a moment over\nthe crystal vase, and then flitted away again.\n\nThe next day was one which Oscar, so long as he lived, never forgot.\n\nHe had had a strange dream during the night, and this had taken from\nhis memory the change which he had fancied he noticed in the shell\nbefore going to bed. But now, when he went as usual to look at it, he\nsaw that a change had taken place indeed.\n\nThe shell was rolled over on its back; the lid, which heretofore had\nclosed its mouth, was open; and the shell was empty. Oscar could see\nfar down into the very depths of the curving interior; it was as\nsmooth as satin, and looked fit to house the queen of the fairies. But\nthere was nothing in it. When, however, Oscar raised his eyes, he\nbeheld a sight which made him draw in his breath with a long sigh of\namazement and tremulous delight. The two largest pieces of rock in the\nvase leaned together in such a way as to make an arch, upon the sides\nof which delicate leaves of pink and green seaweed grew, and other\nbroader leaves clustered together in a sort of grove further back.\nWithin this grove Oscar now perceived a movement, as if something were\nadvancing through them. In a moment they parted, and a fairy-like\nlittle figure floated between, touching the sand with the tips only of\nher tiny feet. Forward she came until she stood just beneath the\nhighest part of the arch. She was scarcely six inches tall, but she\nwas perfectly formed in every part; and her face, though it was less\nthan an inch long, was completely and exquisitely beautiful; and,\nmoreover, it looked even more good than lovely. Her hair, which was\nfiner than the finest cobweb, floated around her like a sort of brown\nmist; it was very thick and immensely long--nearly five inches! Her\nskin was more pure and delicate than the inside of a white geranium\nbud; but the palms of her little hands had a faint rose tint, and so\nhad the tips of her infinitesimal fingers and toes. Her eyes were like\nfairy forget-me-nots; and, ah! who can describe that tiniest marvel of\nall perfection, her mouth, with its tender curved lips, and teeth no\nbigger than grains of white sand. This little lady carried in one hand\na broad frond of green weed, which arched over her head and protected\nher from the rays of the sun that fell through the crystal sides of\nthe vase. Round her neck was hung a necklace of seed pearls that might\nhave come out of a mussel as large as a millet seed. From the waist\ndepended a curiously woven girdle made of thread-like sea-grasses of\nvarious colours. There she stood, gazing straight at Oscar with her\nwondering blue eyes, and her lips half parted. And Oscar gazed at her,\nalmost afraid to breathe, lest she should vanish out of his sight. For\nhe could not yet believe that she was real. He had never even dreamed\nof anything like her before. But he was awake, and she still stood\nbeneath the archway of rock, and he saw many sweet expressions pass\nover her face. Yes, she was a real, living little maiden, and she had\ncome into the world to make Oscar happy; to supply the want he had\nfelt; to be something that he could love and live for.\n\nOscar felt so tenderly towards her, and so fearful lest he should do\nsomething to alarm or shock her, that at first he did not venture to\ndo anything at all. He was so terribly big, he thought, that she must\nfind him frightful. He longed to show her in some way that there was\nnothing in his heart but love and reverence for her. In the midst of\nhis perplexity, however, the little maiden smiled a smile that was all\nthe more delightful because the eyes and mouth she smiled with were so\nsmall; and with a light movement she half walked, half floated towards\nhim, until she stood close to the crystal side of the vase. The tips\nof her fingers rested against it, and she looked up at Oscar with a\nglance so winning and so confiding that he no longer felt any doubt\nabout her or about himself. He stooped down and put his lips to his\nside of the crystal vase, and they kissed each other through it.\n\nIn this way the pledge of friendship between them was given. As soon\nas it had been done, the little maiden made a leap as of joy, and then\nbegan to dance about inside the vase, sometimes touching the sandy\nbottom, but most of the time gliding to and fro in mid-water, turning\nherself this way and that in graceful caprioles, diving through the\narchway and coming up out of the grove of seaweeds on the other side;\nwaving her arms about her head with dreamy motions; sometimes resting\nquietly upon nothing, as if she were asleep; then swimming like a fish\nwith her arms folded and her feet crossed one over the other; and now\nplaying at peep-bo with Oscar behind the rocks. Oscar had never been\nso delighted; his eyes sparkled and his cheeks were red. At last his\nlittle playmate dived into the pearl-shell and disappeared, and the\nboy began to fear that he should see her no more. But in a very short\ntime she came out again, holding something in her hand. She smiled and\nnodded to him, and rose up through the water until she nearly reached\nthe surface. Oscar thought she must be coming out, and his heart beat\nwith expectation. But she was not coming out. Instead of that, she\nstretched up her tiny hand above the surface, and Oscar now saw that\nit held a pearl. He cautiously put out his own hand, and took the\npearl from her fingers. Then she nodded again, and descended.\n\n'Is this for me?' asked Oscar, very softly.\n\nHereupon she made him the most charming little bow imaginable, at the\nsame time bringing both her hands to her lips, and blowing him a kiss.\n\n'Thank you, you lovely little creature!' said Oscar. 'But can you\nunderstand all I say to you?'\n\nAgain the little maiden smiled, and nodded her head up and down.\n\n'And can you speak also?' the boy demanded.\n\nShe put up one hand, and waved it slowly backwards and forwards before\nher face.\n\n'Ah, she cannot speak!' thought Oscar; and he felt a momentary touch\nof sadness.\n\nBut at that an expression came into her face that seemed to say, as\nplainly as could be, 'If I cannot talk as you do, still I can talk.'\nAnd not only did her face seem to say this, but she said it, as it\nwere, with all there was of her; and although in one sense there was\nvery little of her, yet in another sense there was so very much, that\nnot the largest giant ever heard of could have said so much without\nspeaking as she could. Oscar could not account for it. Talking without\nspeaking was something new to him. 'But, after all,' he thought,\n'nobody could talk under water; and no doubt thinking under water is\nthe same as talking out of it.' Besides, though this wonderful little\nwater-maiden was but six inches tall, her thoughts were evidently\nquite as big as those of an ordinary grown-up person, so that they\nmust be so much the more easily visible. And, finally, why should\nOscar trouble himself about how anything happened, as long as it did\nhappen, and was agreeable? Probably it was because he already loved\nthis exquisite fairy so much, that he was able to understand what was\npassing in her mind.\n\nHe named her Theeda--he did not know why, except that that sounded as\nif it must be her name, and she seemed to be perfectly satisfied with\nit. And so these two fell in love with each other at first sight,\nthough she lived in water and he in air, and there could therefore be\nno meeting between them, except the meeting of their hearts and eyes.\nThey must even kiss each other through the crystal. Nevertheless they\nwere as happy as the day was long, and indeed much happier, for time\nis a thing with which happiness has very little to do. Oscar's only\nregret was that Theeda could not be with him when he took his walks\nupon the shore. He enjoyed his walks, however, more than he had ever\nbefore done, because now the earth and the sea and the sky not only\nsaid to him, 'We are like you, Oscar,' but also, 'Theeda loves you!'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE CRAB.\n\n\nOscar could never see enough of his little water-maiden; and he talked\nto her perhaps all the more because she answered him only by\nsympathetic thoughts. He told her all that he knew of his life before\nshe came to him--about his dreams by night and his reveries by day;\nabout all the beauties of the world that she could not see from the\ncrystal imprisonment of her vase; about his mother, too, and how the\nsails of the ship in which she went away had been lit up by the light\nbeyond just before reaching the horizon verge. He spoke likewise of\nhis father, how good and great he was, and how, although he lived and\nruled in a distant country, he never forgot to send his little son all\nthings that were necessary for his comfort and happiness.\n\n'And I believe, Theeda,' added Oscar, 'that he put you in the\npearl-shell for me. Perhaps you have seen him?'\n\nTheeda threw back her floating mist of hair, and smiled.\n\n'Ah, of course, everybody who is good and lovely must have come from\nhim,' Oscar murmured, as if answering something she had said. And then\nhe went on to talk about the book, and of the strange picture he had\nseen in it the day before she appeared.\n\n'I think, now,' he said, 'that the wanderer in the forest must have\nbeen myself; and the precious pearl that was given to him out of the\nfountain was you. But who was the blind and dumb man with the onion?'\n\nAt that Theeda's head dropped, and she sank slowly down on the sand,\nand she hid her face in her hands.\n\n'What is the matter, Theeda?' cried Oscar; 'dearest Theeda, what has\nhappened?'\n\nShe partly lifted herself up, though still crouching in the sand, and\nheld out her arms towards Oscar as if entreating him to do something.\nAnd now, for the first time, he could not read her thought. She seemed\nto beseech him; but he, who would have given her everything, knew not\nfor what she besought him. At last she trailed herself to the side of\nthe vase and put up her lips to be kissed.\n\n'I love you, Theeda!' said he. 'See! with my whole heart!'\n\nBut all that day Theeda's sadness did not wholly pass away; and each\nmorning afterwards, when Oscar first came into the room, she would\nmeet him with a kind of timorousness, and would not be happy until he\nhad kissed her through the crystal, and had told her again that he\nloved her.\n\nShe was by no means an idle little maiden, however. The vase was her\nhome and her garden, and she was busy many hours a day in keeping it\nin order and making it more and more beautiful. It was wonderful how\nmuch she found to do. In some places, where the red and green weeds\ngrew too thick, she pruned them with a little knife that Oscar had\ngiven her, made out of a piece of a mussel shell, and cut away the\npieces that were decayed. She sifted the brown sand between her\nfingers, and cleansed it from all impurities; and she brought the\nprettiest of the pebbles and laid them in tasteful patterns. She\nplaited a kind of hammock out of the sea grass, and hung it at the\nentrance of the archway; and in the afternoons, when the sun was hot,\nshe lay in it and took her siesta. And now Oscar, from time to time,\nput in little sea-animals to keep her company and amuse her; he found\nmany such in the rock pools along the shore. There were prawns, almost\ntransparent, striped like zebras with fine pink stripes, and having\nlong feelers like hairs, which they waved about, and, as it were,\nasked delicate questions with them of everything that came near. They\nmoved as lightly as thistledown and as swiftly as sunshine. Then there\nwere fishes, slender little things an inch or two long, with round\nastonished eyes, and open mouths that looked as if they were saying,\n'Hoo! hoo!' They were of all colours, and some of them had\nfierce-looking spines on their backs, which they could move backwards\nand forwards very much as a horse moves its ears. These fish were at\nfirst very timid, and kept under the shadow of the rocks, or lurked\namidst the seaweed. But Theeda soon made friends with them, so that\nthey regularly came to her to be fed, and sometimes she used to play\nat tag with them, darting round and round inside the vase, and in and\nout amongst the rocks, while the weeds waved to and fro like banners\nin a gale of wind. Oscar also brought sea-snails, with brightly tinted\nshells, which crawled slowly about, measuring their way with their one\nsoft foot, and stretching out little transparent horns in front, like\nchildren feeling their way in the dark. Besides these there was a\nhermit crab, which lived in a pearl shell very much like Theeda's, but\nonly about a sixth part as big. This crab was the only ill-natured\ncreature in the vase. He sat sullenly in the door of his house, in a\nlittle hollow under a large stone; his little dull eyes stuck far out\nof his head, and his ugly claws hung down in front like a pair of red\nfists. He never had a pleasant word for anybody; but, if any came near\nhim, he either pettishly hitched himself back into his shell, or else\nmade a vicious snap at the visitor with his claws. He even snapped at\nTheeda two or three times, and then Oscar wanted to take him out and\nthrow him back into the sea. But Theeda was very forgiving, and would\nnot let this cross little crab be punished. She always treated him\nkindly, brought his dinner to him every day, and did all she could to\nmake him goodnatured and comfortable. But nothing seemed to make him\nany better; and one day, when Theeda had made him let go of a prawn\nwhich he had caught by the tail with one of his claws, he flew into\nsuch a terrible passion that Oscar felt very glad, for the sake of the\nother creatures in the vase, that he was no bigger. He made up his\nmind to have him out before long.\n\nExcept for the crab, the vase was the most charming place to live in\nthat could be imagined, and Oscar often wished that he were able to\nbreathe under water as easily as Theeda did, and that he were as small\nas she was. Theeda, no doubt, wished so too; but it was not to be.\nThen Oscar used to hope that, some day, Theeda would grow up to be as\ntall, or nearly as tall, as himself, and then come out of the water,\nand live with him in the cottage. But that did not seem very likely to\nhappen either. And perhaps, after all, they were as near together as\nmany people who live in the same house, and are separated by neither\nwater nor crystal. Only, when Theeda brought out her oyster-shell\ndinner-table, and set it under the bower of green ulva leaves, and\nplaced upon it her little cockle-shell dishes of fresh sea vegetables\n(which was all she ate), Oscar's very heart ached to be sitting at the\nopposite side of the table and dining with her. Water then seemed to\nhim a much more agreeable element to pass one's time in than air. But,\nalthough wishing can do a great deal, it could not quite make a merman\nof Oscar. Theeda ate her dinners by herself except for the tit-bits\nthat she gave to the prawns and snails, and the scraps that the fishes\nstole when they thought she was not looking.\n\n'Some day, Theeda, perhaps....!' Oscar used to say, without ever\nfinishing the sentence.\n\nTheeda understood very well what he meant, and used to look as if she\nmeant it also. And Oscar's father, who was as powerful as he was kind,\nwould no doubt be able to make them happy in the way they wanted, if\nhe saw that it was best for them. But the hermit crab had a very ugly\nand malicious look, as if he had a mind to prevent anybody from being\nhappy if he could.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nA STRANGER.\n\n\nOne morning, while Oscar was looking into the vase, and admiring the\nbright silver beads that were forming all over the leaves of seaweed,\nand on the lichen-covered surface of the rocks; and while Theeda was\nbusy feeding the fishes, who seemed to get hungrier the more they ate;\nand just when Oscar was about to remark that the hermit-crab was not\nin his usual hole, nor anywhere else that he could see--at that moment\na dark shadow suddenly fell across the vase, shutting it off from the\nsunlight, scaring away the fishes, and making Theeda look up with a\nstart, and then quickly take refuge in her shell, as from something\nshe feared.\n\nOscar also looked up, and saw somebody standing before the window.\n\nIt was a boy; but a very odd boy, Oscar thought. He was not any bigger\nthan Oscar, but he seemed to be a good deal older. He had a broad\nflat face, with a sharp little nose in the middle of it, a wide thin\nmouth, and pale eyes which stuck out very far, and over which he wore\nspectacles. He had pale reddish hair growing upright on his head. His\nlegs were so thin that it seemed a wonder he could stand upon them,\nand indeed they were bowed out sideways, as if the boy's weight were\ntoo much for them. His arms also were thin, but his hands were\nimmensely large and red, with stiff, thick fingers, and huge thumbs.\nHe was not quite facing the window, but stood sideways towards it, and\nlooked at Oscar askance. The skin of this boy's face was coarse and\nrough, and seemed as thick as orange-peel.\n\n'What is your name?' asked the strange boy, after a while.\n\nOscar told him what it was.\n\n'What an absurdly old-fashioned name!' said the boy, contemptuously.\n'I have a better name than that--my name is Kanker!'\n\n'Do you want anything?' said Oscar.\n\n'Yes,' said Kanker. 'I want to ask questions. I am in search of truth.\nI never believe lies; so you needn't tell me any.'\n\n'I never tell lies,' said Oscar, gravely.\n\n'That is a lie to begin with. Everybody tells lies--except me!\nEverything lies--the things that can't talk, as well as the things\nthat can. The world is a lie.'\n\n'The world is not a lie,' said Oscar, indignantly. 'And if you think\nit is, why do you search for truth?'\n\n'I have at all events found the only truth there is to be found--and\nthat is, that everything is a lie,' replied Kanker. 'I have proved it\na thousand times already, and every new question I ask proves it\nagain.'\n\n'What makes your hands so big?' Oscar could not help asking.\n\n'They are no bigger than they ought to be,' Kanker answered, holding\nthem up and looking at them admiringly. 'I use them to touch things\nwith. I never believe in anything that I haven't touched. Nothing\nexists unless I can touch it. Come out of that room, so that I may\ntouch you, and see whether you exist.'\n\n'I will come out,' said Oscar; for he thought it would be better to go\nto Kanker than to have Kanker come in to him. 'But you need not touch\nme; I can touch myself if I want to.'\n\nNevertheless, no sooner had he come out than Kanker took hold of him\nby the arm, and gripped it so hard with his big red hand that Oscar\nsaid, 'Let go, you hurt me!'\n\n'Your touching yourself would prove nothing to me, you know,' said\nKanker. 'Well, you seem to exist. Where are your father and mother?'\n\n'They are not here,' answered Oscar. 'They are gone--long ago.'\n\n'I don't believe it. Where did they go to?'\n\n'Over there,' said Oscar, pointing across the sea.\n\n'Nonsense! Do you mean they are drowned?'\n\n'No. They are gone to a country over there.'\n\n'How do you know there is a country over there? Did you ever touch\nit?'\n\nOscar shook his head.\n\n'I thought so. Then there is no such place. Therefore your father and\nmother have gone nowhere. Therefore they do not exist. And what\nbusiness have you to exist if you never had a father and mother?'\n\n'I don't know what you mean,' said Oscar, 'and I don't care whether I\nexist or not, so long as I do what is right, and am happy.'\n\nAt this Kanker laughed, a spluttering laugh, as if he had his mouth\nfull of water. 'Sit down here beside me,' he said, 'I want to ask you\nsome more questions.'\n\nOscar sat down beside him. He did not at all like Kanker, whose voice\nwas as harsh as his manners were impolite. And he was certainly ugly.\nWhen Oscar did not look full at him he had something the appearance of\na gigantic crab, which was increased by his sidelong shuffle in\nwalking, and by the two great red hands that he carried hanging before\nhim, very much as a crab carries his claws. He held a sun-umbrella\nover his head, a small book in one pocket, and a roll of measuring\ntape in the other. Nevertheless, Kanker seemed to know so much, and to\nbe so positive about what he knew, that Oscar could not help thinking\nhe must be an important person; not the sort of person to be\ncontradicted, especially by a person who knew so little as Oscar did.\n'For, after all,' Oscar thought, 'a great deal of what I supposed I\nknew has only been told me. I do not know it as he knows things--by\ntouching them. It may be, as he says, that some things that seem to be\ntrue are not true. I wonder whether he believes in the sun and the\nstars? He can hardly have touched them! And I wonder why he wears\nspectacles?'\n\n'Why do I wear spectacles?' repeated Kanker; for Oscar had spoken the\nlast sentence aloud. 'To see with, of course! Nobody can see without\nspectacles; and not only that, but nobody can see with any other\nspectacles than these I have on.'\n\n'Oh, you are mistaken there,' exclaimed Oscar; 'for I have never worn\nspectacles, and I have always been able to see.'\n\n'You never saw anything in your life,' replied Kanker, very\nconfidently. 'You only think you see. That is your hallucination. An\nhallucination is when you think a thing is so, and it isn't. You are\nblind, and probably deaf and dumb as well. What books do you read?'\n\n'I have only one book,' said Oscar; and then he told what a wonderful\nbook it was; how it could only be opened by repeating certain mystic\nwords, and how its pages were full of living pictures, representing\nthings which had been done in the world, and which were being done\nnow. Kanker burst out laughing.\n\n'I don't believe it,' he said. 'It's an hallucination. There is no\nsuch book, in the first place, and if there were, it couldn't be what\nyou say it is.'\n\nThis made Oscar angry. 'There is such a book,' said he, 'and if you\ndon't believe it I can show it to you.'\n\nKanker went on laughing and wagging his great hands up and down. 'Oh!\nshow it to me--show it to me!' he spluttered. 'Let me touch it with my\nfingers, and then perhaps I'll believe.'\n\n'Come into the house, then, and you shall touch it!' exclaimed Oscar.\nHe sprang up and went into the house, and Kanker followed him readily\nenough. 'Let me put my fingers on it--that's all I ask,' he kept\nrepeating. 'Let me touch it.'\n\n'There!' said Oscar, 'there it is on that shelf. Do you believe now?'\n\nKanker took the book down from the shelf, and felt it all over. 'I\nbelieve that this is something that feels like a book,' he said at\nlast. 'But I don't believe it is a book until I see it opened; and\nthen I shan't believe it has the pictures you talk about unless I see\nthem, and can put my finger on them; and I don't believe you can open\nit.'\n\n'I can open it!' cried Oscar.\n\n'If you can do it, then why don't you?' Kanker replied.\n\nNow Oscar knew that the mystic words which undid the clasp were a\nsecret which he had no right to disclose. But he wanted so much to\nshow Kanker the inside of the book, and make him acknowledge that he\nwas wrong, that everything else seemed of little account in\ncomparison. He took the book from Kanker's hands. As he did so, a\nstrange feeling came over him. A voice, that seemed to speak not to\nhis ears, but within him, bid him pause. Did he care so much for this\nKanker, with his flat face and his great red hands, as to betray the\nsecret which his mother had confided to him? Oscar hesitated.\n\n'Ha! I knew you were lying!' said Kanker, with his disagreeable laugh.\n\n'You shall see that I am not!' retorted Oscar, becoming angrier than\never. Then he began to repeat the mystic words. But he found it hard\nto pronounce them, and some of them he could scarcely remember. His\nteeth chattered as he went on, and his heart beat painfully. But\nKanker was watching him askance with his pale spectacled eyes, and\nOscar would not stop. At last he had spoken all the words; the clasp\nflew back; the book opened!\n\n'There!' said Oscar, thrusting it into Kanker's hands. 'It is open:\nnow look for yourself!' Then he turned away, and hid his face in his\nhands.\n\nAll of a sudden he heard again Kanker's hateful spluttering laugh. He\nlooked up in astonishment. Kanker was pointing contemptuously to the\npage.\n\n'No pictures here!' he was saying. 'Show me your pictures! There's\nnothing but printing here, and very stupid commonplace printing too!'\n\nOscar fixed his eyes upon the book; but they were darkened, and at\nfirst he could see nothing. At length his sight cleared; but, alas! it\nwas as Kanker had said: there were no pictures in the book, no beauty,\nno life, and no mystery. It was just like any other book--ordinary\npages printed with ordinary print. There had been some terrible loss,\nbut whether the loss were in Oscar or in the book, Oscar could not\ntell. He stood there unable to speak, and almost to think.\n\n'It is just as I knew it was,' said Kanker, throwing down the book.\n'Another of your absurd hallucinations. You dream about things until\nyou think they are real. You had much better do as I do--wear\nspectacles, make up your mind that everything is a lie, and trust to\nyour fingers. By doing that you might, in the course of time, come to\nknow something. Look here, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make an\nexchange with you. It isn't a fair exchange, for what I give you is\nworth a great deal, and what you give me is worth nothing. You give me\nyour book, and I'll give you mine.'\n\n'What is your book?' Oscar asked.\n\n'An arithmetic, to be sure!' replied Kanker, pulling it out of his\npocket. 'See, here is the multiplication table. And here are addition,\nsubtraction, multiplication, and division. And here are vulgar\nfractions. And here are examples. And here is the Rule of Three.\nThat's what I call a book worth having.'\n\n'But if you think my book is not worth having, why do you want it?'\n\n'To make a fire to warm myself with,' Kanker replied.\n\n'If you are cold, will not the sun warm you?' asked Oscar.\n\n'No one has been able to prove that there is any warmth in the sun,'\nsaid Kanker. 'It only seems to be warm. But I know that a fire is\nwarm, because I can burn my fingers in it.'\n\n'But if the sun feels warm, is not that as good as if it were really\nwarm?'\n\n'For you it may be,' answered Kanker, 'but not for me. I care only for\ntruth, and I don't choose to be warmed by anything I don't believe in.\nThat is the reason I carry a sun-umbrella. Well, will you let me have\nyour book?'\n\n'It is no more use to me,' said Oscar, gloomily. 'I do not care\nwhether you take it or not, or what becomes of it.'\n\n'You will find my arithmetic much more useful,' returned Kanker. 'Come\noutside and see me make my fire.'\n\nBut Oscar turned sullenly away.\n\nKanker went outside the cottage, with the book in his arms. After a\nmoment, Oscar could not help going to the window to see what was being\ndone.\n\nKanker had laid the book across two stones, and had gathered some bits\nof driftwood from the shore for kindlings to put underneath. Now he\nstruck a match, and held it to the kindlings. But at that there was a\nsudden and mighty sound, like thunder, and also like a great voice\nspeaking some solemn and awful word. And the book seemed to dissolve,\nand in its place arose a tall pillar of light, more dazzling than the\nlightning, which hung for a moment near the earth, and, to Oscar's\namazed eyes, took on the likeness of a glorious and majestic figure,\nwhich bent upon him a look that made his heart tremble. Then the\nfigure moved away through the air seaward, casting a radiance across\nthe waters, and making the sun look red and dim. It drifted slowly\naway over the sea, and at last became as a bright star, further and\nfurther off, until it vanished in the depths of the sky. Then a great\ncoldness fell upon Oscar, and the daylight became dusky to him, as if\nit were already evening; and he knew that the dazzling face which he\nhad seen was the face of his father. Now he understood what the book\nhad been; but it was too late.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE SECRET OF THE WAVES.\n\n\nIt seemed to Oscar that many hours passed away while he remained\ncrouched down on his knees in a dark corner, shivering and miserable.\nAt last he looked up. It was evening, and a bitter wind was blowing\noutside; heavy clouds were driving across the sky, and rain was\nbeating on the roof. Kanker was sitting in the middle of the room,\nwith his chin upon his hands, staring at him.\n\n'You had better go,' Oscar said. 'What other harm do you want to do\nme?'\n\n'It is you who have done harm to me,' replied Kanker, 'by giving me a\nbox of gunpowder to make a fire with. The explosion has cracked my\nspectacles. However, I bear no malice. What do you keep that jar of\nsea-water for?'\n\n'Ah! that is where Theeda lives,' exclaimed Oscar, rising, with some\ncheerfulness in his face. 'I had forgotten her.'\n\n'Theeda? what is Theeda?' demanded Kanker.\n\n'She is my playmate and companion,' Oscar said. 'She is dearer to me\nthan anything else in the world, and nothing in the world is so lovely\nas she.'\n\n'And do you mean to say she lives in the water? Pray, how big is she?'\n\n'She is not so tall as your hand is long.'\n\n'No such creature ever existed,' said Kanker, positively. 'In the\nfirst place, no one ever was made of that size, and in the second\nplace, it is impossible for anyone to live under water. It is another\nof your hallucinations. There is no use in your denying it. I shall\nbelieve in her when I see her, and not before.'\n\n'I will not let you see her,' replied Oscar.\n\n'Just what I expected! When did you see her last yourself?'\n\n'Just before your shadow fell across the vase.'\n\n'What language does she talk?'\n\n'She does not talk at all, but I know all she thinks.'\n\n'This is really too absurd! Have you ever touched her?'\n\n'No. It is enough for me to look at her.'\n\n'I will tell you what it is,' said Kanker, lifting up one of his ugly\nfingers and holding it at the side of his little sharp nose. 'You are\ncrazy--quite crazy! You have lived here by yourself until you don't\nknow what is real from what isn't. Now, I will make this bargain with\nyou. If you will let me put my finger on this Theeda of yours, and I\nthereby prove to my own satisfaction that she exists, I will let you\nuse me for your servant the rest of my life. Do you agree?'\n\nOscar waited a little while before answering. He hated Kanker, and he\nthought that if Kanker became his servant, he should be able to make\nhim as miserable as Kanker had made him. He did not stop to think\nwhether Theeda would like to be touched or not; it seemed to him an\neasy way of being revenged on his enemy, and that was all. 'Yes, I\nagree!' he said.\n\n'Very well!' returned Kanker. 'And, of course, if I prove that Theeda\ndoes not exist, you are to become my servant for the rest of your\nlife?'\n\n'There is no danger in my promising that,' said Oscar. 'Let it be so\nif you wish.'\n\n'Very well!' said Kanker again; and then they both went to the vase.\n\n'Where is she?' asked Ranker. 'I don't see her.'\n\n'Oh, she has gone into her shell; it is late--she must be asleep by\nthis time,' answered Oscar. 'You must wait until to-morrow.'\n\n'That won't do!' said Kanker. 'The agreement was for this evening. If\nyou back out, you become my servant.'\n\n'It shall be this evening, then,' replied Oscar; 'but you will regret\nit more than I!' And stooping over the vase, he called, 'Theeda!\nTheeda! wake up! come out!'\n\nThey waited a moment. There was no movement in the great pearl shell,\nand Theeda did not appear.\n\n'Come! there's enough of this nonsense!' Kanker exclaimed. 'You may as\nwell make up your mind at once to being my servant.'\n\n'Not yet!' said Oscar, scornfully, and he called in a louder voice,\n'Come out, Theeda! Come out--I want you!'\n\nThe shell stirred slightly, but still Theeda did not appear. Kanker\nlaughed.\n\nThen Oscar grew angry, and in a harsh tone he cried, 'Theeda, come\nout! or I shall not love you or believe in you any more!'\n\nThe sun had set long ago, and the sky was almost dark; but now,\nthrough a break in the clouds, the moon shone down, white and clear,\ninto the crystal vase. It gleamed upon the pearly shell; and in its\ncold lustre Oscar saw the tiny water-maiden, whom he had loved better\nthan anything else in the world, and who was the most precious thing\nthat the world contained, come slowly out of her shell, and stand\ndowncast and drooping before him. Then he felt that, in his anger, and\nin his desire to be revenged on his enemy, he had done a wicked thing,\nwhich could not be forgiven. He had shown what was most sacred and\ndear to his own soul to one who could neither believe in her nor\nreverence her. His heart was filled with bitter sorrow and repentance;\nbut again it was too late.\n\nFor, as Theeda stood there in the moonlight, drooping amidst her\nshadowy mist of hair, Kanker put out his hideous red hand, that was\nless like a hand than like a crab's claw, and plunging it into the\nwater, he tried to grasp Theeda round the waist. But his fingers met\ntogether, and behold! no Theeda was there. She had faded into\nnothingness where she stood; or else the shadow of a cloud which at\nthat moment passed across the room, and made the vase and the room\ndark again, had caused her to become invisible. Before she\ndisappeared, however, she bent one sad reproachful look upon Oscar,\nand he knew that he had seen his mother's spirit in her eyes. He\nunderstood all then; but it was too late indeed!\n\n'I told you how it would be!' said the harsh voice of Ranker, with his\nspluttering laugh, 'and now you are my servant!'\n\n'Yes, for I have lost my Theeda!' answered Oscar, with a heavy sigh.\n\nBut even as he spoke, he chanced to turn his eyes towards the sea.\nBeyond the moon he saw a pure white cloud drifting down the sky. To\nOscar's fancy it took on the likeness of a female form--the form of\nsomeone whom he knew and loved. She seemed to beckon him to a far-off\ncountry, whither Kanker could not come, and where he would be free.\n\n'Yes, I will follow her!' Oscar thought; and, in some way, he slipped\nfrom where he was, and left the cottage and Kanker behind him, and\nwent down towards the ocean.\n\nKanker did not at first know that Oscar had escaped, for he had left\nsomething behind which resembled him, but was not really he. The next\nmorning, when the sun peeped as usual into the crystal vase, neither\nOscar nor Kanker were to be seen. But, in the pearl shell, where\nformerly Theeda had lived, sat a great ugly crab, twiddling its huge\nred claws, and peering this way and that with its malicious little\neyes, which stuck far out of its head. Oscar was not in the cottage,\nnor on the shore, nor has he, from that day to this, ever reappeared\nthere. But, if you should ever happen to visit the place, you will\nhear the waves murmur mysteriously to one another, as they gambol\nalong the beach; and since they come from that far-off line where the\nworld meets the sky, they may possibly know more about Oscar and\nTheeda than people like Kanker would be apt to believe.\n\n\n                               THE END.\n\n      _Spottiswoode & Co., Printers, New-street Square, London._","title":"Yellow-Cap and Other Fairy-Stories For Children","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":51048}