{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_38976/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_38976","id":"gutenberg_38976","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38976","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"THE NECKLACE OF PRINCESS FIORIMONDE\n\nAND OTHER STORIES\n\n[Illustration: \"She was in the garden, lying on the marble edge of a\nfountain, feeding the gold fish who swam in the water.\"--FRONTISPIECE.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE NECKLACE OF PRINCESS FIORIMONDE;\n\nAND OTHER STORIES\n\nBY\n\nMARY DE MORGAN\n\n[_Author of \"On a Pincushion\"_]\n\nWITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY\n\nWALTER CRANE\n\nLONDON:\nMACMILLAN & CO:\n1880\n\n\nTO\n\nMY SIX LITTLE NEPHEWS AND NIECES\n\nTHESE STORIES ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED\n\nBY\n\nTHEIR LOVING AUNT\n\nMARY DE MORGAN\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                      PAGE\n\nTHE NECKLACE OF PRINCESS FIORIMONDE      1\n\nTHE WANDERINGS OF ARASMON               43\n\nTHE HEART OF PRINCESS JOAN              79\n\nTHE PEDLAR'S PACK                      131\n\nTHE BREAD OF DISCONTENT                140\n\nTHE THREE CLEVER KINGS                 157\n\nTHE WISE PRINCESS                      175\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n1. _Frontispiece._\n                                                              PAGE\n\n2. HEADING AND INITIAL LETTER, \"PRINCESS FIORIMONDE\"             1\n\n3. THE PRINCESS AND HER LOOKING-GLASS               _To face_   29\n\n4. GERVAISE WITH THE NECKLACE                            \"      39\n\n5. TAILPIECE                                                    42\n\n6. HEADING AND INITIAL LETTER, \"THE WANDERINGS OF ARASMON\"      43\n\n7. ARASMON AND CHRYSEA PLAYING TO THE VILLAGERS     _To face_   44\n\n8. ARASMON PLAYING BEFORE THE KING                       \"      66\n\n9. TAILPIECE                                                    78\n\n10. HEADING AND INITIAL, \"THE HEART OF PRINCESS JOAN\"           79\n\n11. THE PRINCE AND THE WIZARD                       _To face_   87\n\n12. THE PRISON WINDOW                                    \"     128\n\n13. TAILPIECE                                                  130\n\n14. HEADING AND INITIAL LETTER, \"THE PEDLAR'S PACK\"            131\n\n15. THE PEDLAR AND THE DONKEY                       _To face_  131\n\n16. TAILPIECE                                                  139\n\n17. HEADING AND INITIAL, \"THE BREAD OF DISCONTENT\"             140\n\n18. THE IMP AND THE BAKER                           _To face_  141\n\n19. TAILPIECE                                                  156\n\n20. HEADING AND INITIAL, \"THE THREE CLEVER KINGS\"              157\n\n21. THE THREE CLEVER KINGS                          _To face_  170\n\n22. TAILPIECE                                                  174\n\n23. HEADING AND INITIAL, \"THE WISE PRINCESS\"                   175\n\n24. THE WISE PRINCESS ON THE SEA-SHORE              _To face_  178\n\n25. TAILPIECE                                                  184\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE NECKLACE OF PRINCESS FIORIMONDE\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nOnce there lived a King, whose wife was dead, but who had a most beautiful\ndaughter--so beautiful that every one thought she must be good as well,\ninstead of which the Princess was really very wicked, and practised\nwitchcraft and black magic, which she had learned from an old witch who\nlived in a hut on the side of a lonely mountain. This old witch was wicked\nand hideous, and no one but the King's daughter knew that she lived there;\nbut at night, when every one else was asleep, the Princess, whose name was\nFiorimonde, used to visit her by stealth to learn sorcery. It was only the\nwitch's arts which had made Fiorimonde so beautiful that there was no one\nlike her in the world, and in return the Princess helped her with all her\ntricks, and never told any one she was there.\n\nThe time came when the King began to think he should like his daughter to\nmarry, so he summoned his council and said, \"We have no son to reign after\nour death, so we had best seek for a suitable prince to marry to our royal\ndaughter, and then, when we are too old, he shall be king in our stead.\"\nAnd all the council said he was very wise, and it would be well for the\nPrincess to marry. So heralds were sent to all the neighbouring kings and\nprinces to say that the King would choose a husband for the Princess, who\nshould be king after him. But when Fiorimonde heard this she wept with\nrage, for she knew quite well that if she had a husband he would find out\nhow she went to visit the old witch, and would stop her practising magic,\nand then she would lose her beauty.\n\nWhen night came, and every one in the palace was fast asleep, the Princess\nwent to her bedroom window and softly opened it. Then she took from her\npocket a handful of peas and held them out of the window and chirruped low,\nand there flew down from the roof a small brown bird and sat upon her wrist\nand began to eat the peas. No sooner had it swallowed them than it began to\ngrow and grow and grow till it was so big that the Princess could not hold\nit, but let it stand on the window-sill, and still it grew and grew and\ngrew till it was as large as an ostrich. Then the Princess climbed out of\nthe window and seated herself on the bird's back, and at once it flew\nstraight away over the tops of the trees till it came to the mountain where\nthe old witch dwelt, and stopped in front of the door of her hut.\n\nThe Princess jumped off, and muttered some words through the keyhole, when\na croaking voice from within called,\n\n\"Why do you come to-night? Have I not told you I wished to be left alone\nfor thirteen nights; why do you disturb me?\"\n\n\"But I beg of you to let me in,\" said the Princess, \"for I am in trouble\nand want your help.\"\n\n\"Come in then,\" said the voice; and the door flew open, and the Princess\ntrod into the hut, in the middle of which, wrapped in a gray cloak which\nalmost hid her, sat the witch. Princess Fiorimonde sat down near her, and\ntold her, her story. How the King wished her to marry, and had sent word to\nthe neighbouring princes, that they might make offers for her.\n\n\"This is truly bad hearing,\" croaked the witch, \"but we shall beat them\nyet; and you must deal with each Prince as he comes. Would you like them to\nbecome dogs, to come at your call, or birds, to fly in the air, and sing of\nyour beauty, or will you make them all into beads, the beads of such a\nnecklace as never woman wore before, so that they may rest upon your neck,\nand you may take them with you always.\"\n\n\"The necklace! the necklace!\" cried the Princess, clapping her hands with\njoy. \"That will be best of all, to sling them upon a string and wear them\naround my throat. Little will the courtiers know whence come my new\njewels.\"\n\n\"But this is a dangerous play,\" quoth the witch, \"for, unless you are very\ncareful, you yourself may become a bead and hang upon the string with the\nothers, and there you will remain till some one cuts the string, and draws\nyou off.\"\n\n\"Nay, never fear,\" said the Princess, \"I will be careful, only tell me what\nto do, and I will have great princes and kings to adorn me, and all their\ngreatness shall not help them.\"\n\nThen the witch dipped her hand into a black bag which stood on the ground\nbeside her, and drew out a long gold thread.\n\nThe ends were joined together, but no one could see the joins, and however\nmuch you pulled, it would not break. It would easily go over Fiorimonde's\nhead, and the witch slipped it on her neck saying,\n\n\"Now mind, while this hangs here you are safe enough, but if once you join\nyour fingers around the string you too will meet the fate of your lovers,\nand hang upon it yourself. As for the kings and princes who would marry\nyou, all you have to do is to make them close their fingers around the\nchain, and at once they will be strung upon it as bright hard beads, and\nthere they shall remain, till it is cut and they drop off.\"\n\n\"This is really delightful,\" cried the Princess; \"and I am already quite\nimpatient for the first to come that I may try.\"\n\n\"And now,\" said the witch, \"since you are here, and there is yet time, we\nwill have a dance, and I will summon the guests.\" So saying, she took from\na corner a drum and a pair of drum-sticks, and going to the door, began to\nbeat upon it. It made a terrible rattling. In a moment came flying through\nthe air all sorts of forms. There were little dark elves with long tails,\nand goblins who chattered and laughed, and other witches who rode on\nbroom-sticks. There was one wicked fairy in the form of a large cat, with\nbright green eyes, and another came sliding in like a long shining viper.\n\nThen, when all had arrived, the witch stopped drumming, and, going to the\nmiddle of the hut, stamped on the floor, and a trap-door opened in the\nground. The old witch stepped through it, and led the way down a narrow\ndark passage, to a large underground chamber, and all her strange guests\nfollowed, and here they all danced and made merry in a terrible way, but at\nfirst sound of cock-crow all the guests disappeared with a whiff, and the\nPrincess hastened up the dark passage again, and out of the hut to where\nher big bird still waited for her, and mounting its back she flew home in a\ntrice. Then, when she had stepped in at her bedroom window, she poured into\na cup from a small black bottle, a few drops of magic water, and gave it to\nthe bird to drink, and as it sipped it grew smaller, and smaller, till at\nlast it had quite regained its natural size, and hopped on to the roof as\nbefore, and the Princess shut her window, and got into bed, and fell\nasleep, and no one knew of her strange journey, or where she had been.\n\nNext day Fiorimonde declared to her father the King, that she was quite\nwilling to wed any prince he should fix upon as a husband for her, at which\nhe was much pleased, and soon after informed her, that a young king was\ncoming from over the sea to be her husband. He was king of a large rich\ncountry, and would take back his bride with him to his home. He was called\nKing Pierrot. Great preparations were made for his arrival, and the\nPrincess was decked in her finest array to greet him, and when he came all\nthe courtiers said, \"This is truly a proper husband for our beautiful\nPrincess,\" for he was strong and handsome, with black hair, and eyes like\nsloes. King Pierrot was delighted with Fiorimonde's beauty, and was happy\nas the day is long; and all things went merrily till the evening before the\nmarriage. A great feast was held, at which the Princess looked lovelier\nthan ever dressed in a red gown, the colour of the inside of a rose, but\nshe wore no jewels nor ornaments of any kind, save one shining gold string\nround her milk-white throat.\n\nWhen the feast was done, the Princess stepped from her golden chair at her\nfather's side, and walked softly into the garden, and stood under an\nelm-tree looking at the shining moon. In a few moments King Pierrot\nfollowed her, and stood beside her, looking at her and wondering at her\nbeauty.\n\n\"To-morrow, then, my sweet Princess, you will be my Queen, and share all I\npossess. What gift would you wish me to give you on our wedding day?\"\n\n\"I would have a necklace wrought of the finest gold and jewels to be found,\nand just the length of this gold cord which I wear around my throat,\"\nanswered Princess Fiorimonde.\n\n\"Why do you wear that cord?\" asked King Pierrot; \"it has no jewel nor\nornament about it.\"\n\n\"Nay, but there is no cord like mine in all the world,\" cried Fiorimonde,\nand her eyes sparkled wickedly as she spoke; \"it is as light as a feather,\nbut stronger than an iron chain. Take it in both hands and try to break it,\nthat you may see how strong it is;\" and King Pierrot took the cord in both\nhands to pull it hard; but no sooner were his fingers closed around it than\nhe vanished like a puff of smoke, and on the cord appeared a bright,\nbeautiful bead--so bright and beautiful as was never bead before--clear as\ncrystal, but shining with all colours--green, blue, and gold.\n\nPrincess Fiorimonde gazed down at it and laughed aloud.\n\n\"Aha, my proud lover! are you there?\" she cried with glee; \"my necklace\nbids fair to beat all others in the world,\" and she caressed the bead with\nthe tips of her soft, white fingers, but was careful that they did not\nclose round the string. Then she returned into the banqueting hall, and\nspoke to the King.\n\n\"Pray, sire,\" said she, \"send some one at once to find King Pierrot, for,\nas he was talking to me a minute ago, he suddenly left me, and I am afraid\nlest I may have given him offence, or perhaps he is ill.\"\n\nThe King desired that the servants should seek for King Pierrot all over\nthe grounds, and seek him they did, but nowhere was he to be found, and the\nold King looked offended.\n\n\"Doubtless he will be ready to-morrow in time for the wedding,\" quoth he,\n\"but we are not best pleased that he should treat us in this way.\"\n\nPrincess Fiorimonde had a little maid called Yolande. She was a\nbright-faced girl with merry brown eyes, but she was not beautiful like\nFiorimonde, and she did not love her mistress, for she was afraid of her,\nand suspected her of her wicked ways. When she undressed her that night she\nnoticed the gold cord, and the one bright bead upon it, and as she combed\nthe Princess's hair she looked over her shoulder into the looking-glass,\nand saw how she laughed, and how fondly she looked at the cord, and\ncaressed the bead, again and again with her fingers.\n\n\"That is a wonderful bead on your Highness's cord,\" said Yolande, looking\nat its reflection in the mirror; \"surely it must be a bridal gift from King\nPierrot.\"\n\n\"And so it is, little Yolande,\" cried Fiorimonde, laughing merrily; \"and\nthe best gift he could give me. But I think one bead alone looks ugly and\nungainly; soon I hope I shall have another, and another, and another, all\nas beautiful as the first.\"\n\nThen Yolande shook her head, and said to herself, \"This bodes no good.\"\n\nNext morning all was prepared for the marriage, and the Princess was\ndressed in white satin and pearls with a long white lace veil over her, and\na bridal wreath on her head, and she stood waiting among her grandly\ndressed ladies, who all said that such a beautiful bride had never been\nseen in the world before. But just as they were preparing to go down to the\nfine company in the hall, a messenger came in great haste summoning the\nPrincess at once to her father the King, as he was much perplexed.\n\n\"My daughter,\" cried he, as Fiorimonde in all her bridal array entered the\nroom where he sat alone, \"what can we do? King Pierrot is nowhere to be\nfound; I fear lest he may have been seized by robbers and basely murdered\nfor his rich clothes, or carried away to some mountain and left there to\nstarve. My soldiers are gone far and wide to seek him--and we shall hear\nof him ere day is done--but where there is no bridegroom there can be no\nbridal.\"\n\n\"Then let it be put off, my father,\" cried the Princess, \"and to-morrow we\nshall know if it is for a wedding, or a funeral, we must dress;\" and she\npretended to weep, but even then could hardly keep from laughing.\n\nSo the wedding guests went away, and the Princess laid aside her bridal\ndress, and all waited anxiously for news of King Pierrot; and no news came.\nSo at last every one gave him up for dead, and mourned for him, and\nwondered how he had met his fate.\n\nPrincess Fiorimonde put on a black gown, and begged to be allowed to live\nin seclusion for one month in which to grieve for King Pierrot; but when\nshe was again alone in her bedroom she sat before her looking-glass and\nlaughed till tears ran down her cheeks; and Yolande watched her, and\ntrembled, when she heard her laughter. She noticed, too, that beneath her\nblack gown, the Princess still wore her gold cord, and did not move it\nnight or day.\n\nThe month had barely passed away when the King came to his daughter, and\nannounced that another suitor had presented himself, whom he should much\nlike to be her husband. The Princess agreed quite obediently to all her\nfather said; and it was arranged that the marriage should take place. This\nnew prince was called Prince Hildebrandt. He came from a country far north,\nof which one day he would be king. He was tall, and fair, and strong, with\nflaxen hair and bright blue eyes. When Princess Fiorimonde saw his portrait\nshe was much pleased, and said, \"By all means let him come, and the sooner\nthe better.\" So she put off her black clothes, and again great preparations\nwere made for a wedding; and King Pierrot was quite forgotten.\n\nPrince Hildebrandt came, and with him many fine gentlemen, and they brought\nbeautiful gifts for the bride. The evening of his arrival all went well,\nand again there was a grand feast, and Fiorimonde looked so beautiful that\nPrince Hildebrandt was delighted; and this time she did not leave her\nfather's side, but sat by him all the evening.\n\nEarly next morning at sunrise, when every one was still sleeping, the\nPrincess rose, and dressed herself in a plain white gown, and brushed all\nher hair over her shoulders, and crept quietly downstairs into the palace\ngardens; then she walked on till she came beneath the window of Prince\nHildebrandt's room, and here she paused and began to sing a little song as\nsweet and joyous as a lark's. When Prince Hildebrandt heard it he got up\nand went to the window and looked out to see who sang, and when he saw\nFiorimonde standing in the red sunrise-light, which made her hair look\ngold, and her face rosy, he made haste to dress himself and go down to meet\nher.\n\n\"How, my Princess,\" cried he, as he stepped into the garden beside her.\n\"This is indeed great happiness to meet you here so early. Tell me why do\nyou come out at sunrise to sing by yourself?\"\n\n\"I come that I may see the colours of the sky--red, blue, and gold,\"\nanswered the Princess. \"Look, there are no such colours to be seen\nanywhere, unless, indeed, it be in this bead which I wear here on my\ngolden cord.\n\n\"What is that bead, and where did it come from?\" asked Hildebrandt.\n\n\"It came from over the sea, where it shall never return again,\" answered\nthe Princess. And again her eyes began to sparkle with eagerness, and she\ncould scarcely conceal her mirth. \"Lift the cord off my neck and look at it\nnear, and tell me if you ever saw one like it.\"\n\nHildebrandt put out his hands and took hold of the cord, but no sooner were\nhis fingers closed around it than he vanished, and a new bright bead was\nslung next to the first one on Fiorimonde's chain, and this one was even\nmore beautiful than the other.\n\nThe Princess gave a long low laugh, quite terrible to hear.\n\n\"Oh, my sweet necklace,\" cried she, \"how beautiful you are growing! I think\nI love you more than anything in the world besides.\" Then she went softly\nback to bed, without any one hearing her, and fell sound asleep, and slept\ntill Yolande came to tell her it was time for her to get up and dress for\nthe wedding.\n\nThe Princess was dressed in gorgeous clothes, and only Yolande noticed that\nbeneath her satin gown, she wore the golden cord, but now there were two\nbeads upon it instead of one. Scarcely was she ready when the King burst\ninto her room in a towering rage.\n\n\"My daughter,\" cried he, \"there is a plot against us. Lay aside your bridal\nattire and think no more of Prince Hildebrandt, for he too has disappeared,\nand is nowhere to be found.\"\n\nAt this the Princess wept, and entreated that Hildebrandt should be sought\nfor far and near, but she laughed to herself, and said, \"Search where you\nwill, yet you shall not find him;\" and so again a great search was made,\nand when no trace of the Prince was found, all the palace was in an uproar.\n\nThe Princess again put off her bride's dress and clad herself in black, and\nsat alone, and pretended to weep, but Yolande, who watched her, shook her\nhead, and said, \"More will come and go before the wicked Princess has done\nher worst.\"\n\nA month passed, in which Fiorimonde pretended to mourn for Hildebrandt,\nthen she went to the King and said,\n\n\"Sire, I pray that you will not let people say that when any bridegroom\ncomes to marry me, as soon as he has seen me he flies rather than be my\nhusband. I beg that suitors may be summoned from far and near that I may\nnot be left alone unwed.\"\n\nThe King agreed, and envoys were sent all the world over to bid any who\nwould come and be the husband of Princess Fiorimonde. And come they did,\nkings and princes from south and north, east and west,--King Adrian, Prince\nSigbert, Prince Algar, and many more,--but though all went well till the\nwedding morning, when it was time to go to church, no bridegroom was to be\nfound. The old King was sadly frightened, and would fain have given up all\nhope of finding a husband for the Princess, but now she implored him, with\ntears in her eyes, not to let her be disgraced in this way. And so suitor\nafter suitor continued to come, and now it was known, far and wide, that\nwhoever came to ask for the hand of Princess Fiorimonde vanished, and was\nseen no more of men. The courtiers were afraid and whispered under their\nbreath, \"It is not all right, it cannot be;\" but only Yolande noticed how\nthe beads came upon the golden thread, till it was well-nigh covered, yet\nthere always was room for one bead more.\n\nSo the years passed, and every year Princess Fiorimonde grew lovelier and\nlovelier, so that no one who saw her could guess how wicked she was.\n\nIn a far off country lived a young prince whose name was Florestan. He had\na dear friend named Gervaise, whom he loved better than any one in the\nworld. Gervaise was tall, and broad, and stout of limb, and he loved Prince\nFlorestan so well, that he would gladly have died to serve him.\n\nIt chanced that Prince Florestan saw a portrait of Princess Fiorimonde, and\nat once swore he would go to her father's court, and beg that he might\nhave her for his wife, and Gervaise in vain tried to dissuade him.\n\n\"There is an evil fate about the Princess Fiorimonde,\" quoth he; \"many have\ngone to marry her, but where are they now?\"\n\n\"I don't know or care,\" answered Florestan, \"but this is sure, that I will\nwed her and return here, and bring my bride with me.\"\n\nSo he set out for Fiorimonde's home, and Gervaise went with him with a\nheavy heart.\n\nWhen they reached the court, the old King received them and welcomed them\nwarmly, and he said to his courtiers, \"Here is a fine young prince to whom\nwe would gladly see our daughter wed. Let us hope that this time all will\nbe well.\" But now Fiorimonde had grown so bold, that she scarcely tried to\nconceal her mirth.\n\n\"I will gladly marry him to-morrow, if he comes to the church,\" she said;\n\"but if he is not there, what can I do,\" and she laughed long and merrily,\ntill those who heard her shuddered.\n\nWhen the Princess's ladies came to tell her that Prince Florestan was\narrived, she was in the garden, lying on the marble edge of a fountain,\nfeeding the gold fish who swam in the water.\n\n\"Bid him come to me,\" she said, \"for I will not go any more in state to\nmeet any suitors, neither will I put on grand attire for them. Let him come\nand find me as I am, since all find it so easy to come and go.\" So her\nladies told the prince that Fiorimonde waited for him near the fountain.\n\nShe did not rise when he came to where she lay, but his heart bounded with\njoy, for he had never in his life beheld such a beautiful woman.\n\nShe wore a thin soft white dress, which clung to her lithe figure. Her\nbeautiful arms and hands were bare, and she dabbled with them in the water,\nand played with the fish. Her great blue eyes were sparkling with mirth,\nand were so beautiful, that no one noticed the wicked look hid in them; and\non her neck lay the marvellous many-coloured necklace, which was itself a\nwonder to behold.\n\n\"You have my best greetings, Prince Florestan,\" she said. \"And you, too,\nwould be my suitor. Have you thought well of what you would do, since so\nmany princes who have seen me have fled for ever, rather than marry me?\"\nand as she spoke, she raised her white hand from the water, and held it out\nto the Prince, who stooped and kissed it, and scarcely knew how to answer\nher for bewilderment at her great loveliness.\n\nGervaise followed his master at a short distance, but he was ill at ease,\nand trembled for fear of what should come.\n\n\"Come, bid your friend leave us,\" said Fiorimonde, looking at Gervaise,\n\"and sit beside me, and tell me of your home, and why you wish to marry me,\nand all pleasant things.\"\n\nFlorestan begged that Gervaise would leave them for a little, and he walked\nslowly away, in a very mournful mood.\n\nHe went on down the walks, not heeding where he was going, till he met\nYolande, who stood beneath a tree laden with rosy apples, picking the\nfruit, and throwing it into a basket at her feet. He would have passed her\nin silence, but she stopped him, and said,\n\n\"Have you come with the new Prince? Do you love your master?\"\n\n\"Ay, better than any one else on the earth,\" answered Gervaise. \"Why do you\nask?\"\n\n\"And where is he now,\" said Yolande, not heeding Gervaise's question.\n\n\"He sits by the fountain with the beautiful Princess,\" said Gervaise.\n\n\"Then, I hope you have said good-bye to him well, for be assured you shall\nnever see him again,\" said Yolande nodding her head.\n\n\"Why not, and who are you to talk like this?\" asked Gervaise.\n\n\"My name is Yolande,\" answered she, \"and I am Princess Fiorimonde's maid.\nDo you not know that Prince Florestan is the eleventh lover who has come to\nmarry her, and one by one they have disappeared, and only I know where they\nare gone.\"\n\n\"And where are they gone?\" cried Gervaise, \"and why do you not tell the\nworld, and prevent good men being lost like this?\"\n\n\"Because I fear my mistress,\" said Yolande, speaking low and drawing near\nto him; \"she is a sorceress, and she wears the brave kings and princes who\ncome to woo her, strung upon a cord round her neck. Each one forms the bead\nof a necklace which she wears, both day and night. I have watched that\nnecklace growing; first it was only an empty gold thread; then came King\nPierrot, and when he disappeared the first bead appeared upon it. Then came\nHildebrandt, and two beads were on the string instead of one; then followed\nAdrian, Sigbert, and Algar, and Cenred, and Pharamond, and Baldwyn, and\nLeofric, and Raoul, and all are gone, and ten beads hang upon the string,\nand to-night there will be eleven, and the eleventh will be your Prince\nFlorestan.\"\n\n\"If this be so,\" cried Gervaise, \"I will never rest till I have plunged my\nsword into Fiorimonde's heart;\" but Yolande shook her head.\n\n\"She is a sorceress,\" she said, \"and it might be hard to kill her; besides,\nthat might not break the spell, and bring back the princes to life. I wish\nI could show you the necklace, and you might count the beads, and see if I\ndo not speak truth, but it is always about her neck, both night and day, so\nit is impossible.\"\n\n\"Take me to her room to-night when she is asleep, and let me see it there,\"\nsaid Gervaise.\n\n\"Very well, we will try,\" said Yolande; \"but you must be very still, and\nmake no noise, for if she wakes, remember it will be worse for us both.\"\n\nWhen night came and all in the palace were fast asleep, Gervaise and\nYolande met in the great hall, and Yolande told him that the Princess\nslumbered soundly.\n\n\"So now let us go,\" said she, \"and I will show you the necklace on which\nFiorimonde wears her lovers strung like beads, though how she transforms\nthem I know not.\"\n\n\"Stay one instant, Yolande,\" said Gervaise, holding her back, as she would\nhave tripped upstairs. \"Perhaps, try how I may, I shall be beaten, and\neither die or become a bead like those who have come before me. But if I\nsucceed and rid the land of your wicked Princess, what will you promise me\nfor a reward?\"\n\n\"What would you have?\" asked Yolande.\n\n\"I would have you say you will be my wife, and come back with me to my own\nland,\" said Gervaise.\n\n\"That I will promise gladly,\" said Yolande, kissing him, \"but we must not\nspeak or think of this till we have cut the cord from Fiorimonde's neck,\nand all her lovers are set free.\"\n\nSo they went softly up to the Princess's room, Yolande holding a small\nlantern, which gave only a dim light. There, in her grand bed, lay Princess\nFiorimonde. They could just see her by the lantern's light, and she looked\nso beautiful that Gervaise began to think Yolande spoke falsely, when she\nsaid she was so wicked.\n\nHer face was calm and sweet as a baby's; her hair fell in ruddy waves on\nthe pillow; her rosy lips smiled, and little dimples showed in her cheeks;\nher white soft hands were folded amidst the scented lace and linen of which\nthe bed was made. Gervaise almost forgot to look at the glittering beads\nhung round her throat, in wondering at her loveliness, but Yolande pulled\nhim by the arm.\n\n\"Do not look at her,\" she whispered softly, \"since her beauty has cost dear\nalready; look rather at what remains of those who thought her as fair as\nyou do now; see here,\" and she pointed with her finger to each bead in\nturn.\n\n\"This was Pierrot, and this Hildebrandt, and these are Adrian, and Sigbert,\nand Algar, and Cenred, and that is Pharamond, and that Raoul, and last of\nall here is your own master Prince Florestan. Seek him now where you will\nand you will not find him, and you shall never see him again till the cord\nis cut and the charm broken.\"\n\n\"Of what is the cord made?\" whispered Gervaise.\n\n\"It is of the finest gold,\" she answered. \"Nay, do not you touch her lest\nshe wake. I will show it to you.\" And Yolande put down the lantern and\nsoftly put out her hands to slip the beads aside, but as she did so, her\nfingers closed around the golden string, and directly she was gone. Another\nbead was added to the necklace, and Gervaise was alone with the sleeping\nPrincess. He gazed about him in sore amazement and fear. He dared not call\nlest Fiorimonde should wake.\n\n\"Yolande,\" he whispered as loud as he dared, \"Yolande where are you?\" but\nno Yolande answered.\n\nThen he bent down over the Princess and gazed at the necklace. Another bead\nwas strung upon it next to the one to which Yolande had pointed as Prince\nFlorestan. Again he counted them. \"Eleven before, now there are twelve. Oh\nhateful Princess! I know now where go the brave kings and princes who came\nto woo you, and where, too, is my Yolande,\" and as he looked at the last\nbead, tears filled his eyes. It was brighter and clearer than the others,\nand of a warm red hue, like the red dress Yolande had worn. The Princess\nturned and laughed in her sleep, and at the sound of her laughter Gervaise\nwas filled with horror and loathing. He crept shuddering from the room, and\nall night long sat up alone, plotting how he might defeat Fiorimonde, and\nset Florestan and Yolande free.\n\n[Illustration: \"Next morning when Fiorimonde dressed she looked at her\nnecklace and counted its beads, but she was much perplexed, for a new bead\nwas added to the string.\"--P. 29.]\n\nNext morning when Fiorimonde dressed she looked at her necklace and counted\nits beads, but she was much perplexed, for a new bead was added to the\nstring.\n\n\"Who can have come and grasped my chain unknown to me?\" she said to\nherself, and she sat and pondered for a long time. At last she broke into\nweird laughter.\n\n\"At any rate, whoever it was, is fitly punished,\" quoth she. \"My brave\nnecklace, you can take care of yourself, and if any one tries to steal you,\nthey will get their reward, and add to my glory. In truth I may sleep in\npeace, and fear nothing.\"\n\nThe day passed away and no one missed Yolande. Towards sunset the rain\nbegan to pour in torrents, and there was such a terrible thunderstorm that\nevery one was frightened. The thunder roared, the lightning gleamed flash\nafter flash, every moment it grew fiercer and fiercer. The sky was so dark\nthat, save for the lightning's light, nothing could be seen, but Princess\nFiorimonde loved the thunder and lightning.\n\nShe sat in a room high up in one of the towers, clad in a black velvet\ndress, and she watched the lightning from the window, and laughed at each\npeal of thunder. In the midst of the storm a stranger, wrapped in a cloak,\nrode to the palace door, and the ladies ran to tell the Princess that a new\nprince had come to be her suitor. \"And he will not tell his name,\" said\nthey, \"but says he hears that all are bidden to ask for the hand of\nPrincess Fiorimonde, and he too would try his good fortune.\"\n\n\"Let him come at once,\" cried the Princess. \"Be he prince or knave what\ncare I? If princes all fly from me it may be better to marry a peasant.\"\n\nSo they led the new-comer up to the room where Fiorimonde sat. He was\nwrapped in a thick cloak, but he flung it aside as he came in, and showed\nhow rich was his silken clothing underneath; and so well was he disguised,\nthat Fiorimonde never saw that it was Gervaise, but looked at him, and\nthought she had never seen him before.\n\n\"You are most welcome, stranger prince, who has come through such\nlightning and thunder to find me,\" said she. \"Is it true, then, that you\nwish to be my suitor? What have you heard of me?\"\n\n\"It is quite true, Princess,\" said Gervaise. \"And I have heard that you are\nthe most beautiful woman in the world.\"\n\n\"And is that true also?\" asked the Princess. \"Look at me now, and see.\"\n\nGervaise looked at her and in his heart he said, \"It is quite true, oh\nwicked Princess! There never was woman as beautiful as you, and never\nbefore did I hate a woman as I hate you now;\" but aloud he said,\n\n\"No, Princess, that is not true; you are very beautiful, but I have seen a\nwoman who is fairer than you for all that your skin looks ivory against\nyour velvet dress, and your hair is like gold.\"\n\n\"A woman who is fairer than I?\" cried Fiorimonde, and her breast began to\nheave and her eyes to sparkle with rage, for never before had she heard\nsuch a thing said. \"Who are you who dares come and tell me of women more\nbeautiful than I am?\"\n\n\"I am a suitor who asks to be your husband, Princess,\" answered Gervaise,\n\"but still I say I have seen a woman who was fairer than you.\"\n\n\"Who is she--where is she?\" cried Fiorimonde, who could scarcely contain\nher anger. \"Bring her here at once that I may see if you speak the truth.\"\n\n\"What will you give me to bring her to you?\" said Gervaise. \"Give me that\nnecklace you wear on your neck, and then I will summon her in an instant;\"\nbut Fiorimonde shook her head.\n\n\"You have asked,\" said she, \"for the only thing from which I cannot part,\"\nand then she bade her maids bring her her jewel-casket, and she drew out\ndiamonds, and rubies, and pearls, and offered them, all or any, to\nGervaise. The lightning shone on them and made them shine and flash, but he\nshook his head.\n\n\"No, none of these will do,\" quoth he. \"You can see her for the necklace,\nbut for nothing else.\"\n\n\"Take it off for yourself then,\" cried Fiorimonde, who now was so angry\nthat she only wished to be rid of Gervaise in any way.\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said Gervaise, \"I am no tire-woman, and should not know how\nto clasp and unclasp it;\" and in spite of all Fiorimonde could say or do,\nhe would not touch either her or the magic chain.\n\nAt night the storm grew even fiercer, but it did not trouble the Princess.\nShe waited till all were asleep, and then she opened her bedroom window and\nchirruped softly to the little brown bird, who flew down from the roof at\nher call. Then she gave him a handful of seeds as before, and he grew and\ngrew and grew till he was as large as an ostrich, and she sat upon his back\nand flew out through the air, laughing at the lightning and thunder which\nflashed and roared around her. Away they flew till they came to the old\nwitch's cave, and here they found the witch sitting at her open door\ncatching the lightning to make charms with.\n\n\"Welcome, my dear,\" croaked she, as Fiorimonde stepped from the bird; \"here\nis a night we both love well. And how goes the necklace?--right merrily I\nsee. Twelve beads already--but what is that twelfth?\" and she looked at it\nclosely.\n\n\"Nay, that is one thing I want you to tell me,\" said Fiorimonde, drying the\nrain from her golden hair. \"Last night when I slept there were eleven, and\nthis morning there are twelve; and I know not from whence comes the\ntwelfth.\"\n\n\"It is no suitor,\" said the witch, \"but from some young maid, that that\nbead is made. But why should you mind? It looks well with the others.\"\n\n\"Some young maid,\" said the Princess. \"Then, it must be Cicely or Marybel,\nor Yolande, who would have robbed me of my necklace as I slept. But what\ncare I? The silly wench is punished now, and so may all others be, who\nwould do the same.\"\n\n\"And when will you get the thirteenth bead, and where will he come from?\"\nasked the witch.\n\n\"He waits at the palace now,\" said Fiorimonde, chuckling. \"And this is why\nI have to speak to you;\" and then she told the witch of the stranger who\nhad come in the storm, and of how he would not touch her necklace, nor take\nthe cord in his hand, and how he said also that he knew a woman fairer than\nshe.\n\n\"Beware, Princess, beware,\" cried the witch in a warning voice, as she\nlistened. \"Why should you heed tales of other women fairer than you? Have I\nnot made you the most beautiful woman in the world, and can any others do\nmore than I? Give no ear to what this stranger says or you shall rue it.\"\nBut still the Princess murmured, and said she did not love to hear any one\nspeak of others as beautiful as she.\n\n\"Be warned in time,\" cried the witch, \"or you will have cause to repent it.\nAre you so silly or so vain as to be troubled because a Prince says idly\nwhat you know is not true? I tell you do not listen to him, but let him be\nslung to your chain as soon as may be, and then he will speak no more.\" And\nthen they talked together of how Fiorimonde could make Gervaise grasp the\nfatal string.\n\nNext morning when the sun rose, Gervaise started off into the woods, and\nthere he plucked acorns and haws, and hips, and strung them on to a string\nto form a rude necklace. This he hid in his bosom, and then went back to\nthe palace without telling any one.\n\nWhen the Princess rose, she dressed herself as beautifully as she could,\nand braided her golden locks with great care, for this morning she meant\nher new suitor to meet his fate. After breakfast, she stepped into the\ngarden, where the sun shone brightly, and all looked fresh after the storm.\nHere from the grass she picked up a golden ball, and began to play with it.\n\n\"Go to our new guest,\" cried she to her ladies, \"and ask him to come here\nand play at ball with me.\" So they went, and soon they returned bringing\nGervaise with them.\n\n\"Good morrow, prince,\" cried she. \"Pray, come and try your skill at this\ngame with me; and you,\" she said to her ladies, \"do not wait to watch our\nplay, but each go your way, and do what pleases you best.\" So they all went\naway, and left her alone with Gervaise.\n\n\"Well, prince,\" cried she as they began to play, \"what do you think of me\nby morning light? Yesterday when you came it was so dark, with thunder and\nclouds, that you could scarcely see my face, but now that there is bright\nsunshine, pray look well at me, and see if you do not think me as beautiful\nas any woman on earth,\" and she smiled at Gervaise, and looked so lovely as\nshe spoke, that he scarce knew how to answer her; but he remembered\nYolande, and said,\n\n\"Doubtless you are very beautiful; then why should you mind my telling you\nthat I have seen a woman lovelier than you?\"\n\nAt this the Princess again began to be angry, but she thought of the\nwitch's words and said,\n\n\"Then, if you think there is a woman fairer than I, look at my beads, and\nnow, that you see their colours in the sun, say if you ever saw such jewels\nbefore.\"\n\n\"It is true I have never seen beads like yours, but I have a necklace here,\nwhich pleases me better;\" and from his pocket he drew the haws and acorns,\nwhich he had strung together.\n\n\"What is that necklace, and where did you get it? Show it to me!\" cried\nFiorimonde; but Gervaise held it out of her reach, and said,\n\n\"I like my necklace better than yours, Princess; and, believe me, there is\nno necklace like mine in all the world.\"\n\n\"Why; is it a fairy necklace? What does it do? Pray give it to me!\" cried\nFiorimonde, trembling with anger and curiosity, for she thought, \"Perhaps\nit has power to make the wearer beautiful; perhaps it was worn by the woman\nwhom he thought more beautiful than I, and that is why she looked so fair.\"\n\n\"Come, I will make a fair exchange,\" said Gervaise. \"Give me your necklace\nand you shall have mine, and when it is round your throat I will truthfully\nsay that you are the fairest woman in the world; but first I must have your\nnecklace.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Then he picked up the necklace on the point of his sword\nand carried it, slung thereon, into the council chamber.\"--P. 39.]\n\n\"Take it, then,\" cried the Princess, who, in her rage and eagerness, forgot\nall else, and she seized the string of beads to lift it from her neck, but\nno sooner had she taken it in her hands than they fell with a rattle to the\nearth, and Fiorimonde herself was nowhere to be seen. Gervaise bent down\nover the necklace as it lay upon the grass, and, with a smile, counted\nthirteen beads; and he knew that the thirteenth was the wicked Princess,\nwho had herself met the evil fate she had prepared for so many others.\n\n\"Oh, clever Princess!\" cried he, laughing aloud, \"you are not so very\nclever, I think, to be so easily outwitted.\" Then he picked up the necklace\non the point of the sword and carried it, slung thereon, into the council\nchamber, where sat the King surrounded by statesmen and courtiers busy with\nstate affairs.\n\n\"Pray, King,\" said Gervaise, \"send some one to seek for Princess\nFiorimonde. A moment ago she played with me at ball in the garden, and now\nshe is nowhere to be seen.\"\n\nThe King desired that servants should seek her Royal Highness; but they\ncame back saying she was not to be found.\n\n\"Then let me see if I cannot bring her to you; but first let those who have\nbeen longer lost than she, come and tell their own tale.\" And, so saying,\nGervaise let the necklace slip from his sword on to the floor, and taking\nfrom his breast a sharp dagger, proceeded to cut the golden thread on which\nthe beads were strung and as he clave it in two there came a mighty noise\nlike a clap of thunder.\n\n\"Now;\" cried he, \"look, and see King Pierrot who was lost,\" and as he spoke\nhe drew from the cord a bead, and King Pierrot, in his royal clothes, with\nhis sword at his side, stood before them.\n\n\"Treachery!\" he cried, but ere he could say more Gervaise had drawn off\nanother bead, and King Hildebrandt appeared, and after him came Adrian, and\nSigbert, and Algar, and Cenred, and Pharamond, and Raoul, and last of the\nprinces, Gervaise's own dear master Florestan, and they all denounced\nPrincess Fiorimonde and her wickedness.\n\n\"And now,\" cried Gervaise, \"here is she who has helped to save you all,\"\nand he drew off the twelfth bead, and there stood Yolande in her red\ndress; and when he saw her Gervaise flung away his dagger and took her in\nhis arms, and they wept for joy.\n\nThe King and all the courtiers sat pale and trembling, unable to speak for\nfear and shame. At length the King said with a deep groan,\n\n\"We owe you deep amends, O noble kings and princes! What punishment do you\nwish us to prepare for our most guilty daughter?\" but here Gervaise stopped\nhim, and said,\n\n\"Give her no other punishment than what she has chosen for herself. See,\nhere she is, the thirteenth bead upon the string; let no one dare to draw\nit off, but let this string be hung up where all people can see it and see\nthe one bead, and know the wicked Princess is punished for her sorcery, so\nit will be a warning to others who would do like her.\"\n\nSo they lifted the golden thread with great care and hung it up outside the\ntown-hall, and there the one bead glittered and gleamed in the sunlight,\nand all who saw it knew that it was the wicked Princess Fiorimonde who had\njustly met her fate.\n\nThen all the kings and princes thanked Gervaise and Yolande, and loaded\nthem with presents, and each went to his own land.\n\nAnd Gervaise married Yolande, and they went back with Prince Florestan to\ntheir home, and all lived happily to the end of their lives.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WANDERINGS OF ARASMON\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nLong ago there lived a wandering musician and his wife, whose names were\nArasmon and Chrysea. Arasmon played upon a lute to which Chrysea sang, and\ntheir music was so beautiful that people followed them in crowds and gave\nthem as much money as they wanted. When Arasmon played all who heard him\nwere silent from wonder and admiration, but when Chrysea sang they could\nnot refrain from weeping, for her voice was more beautiful than anything\nthey had ever heard before.\n\nBoth were young and lovely, and were as happy as the day was long, for they\nloved each other dearly, and liked wandering about seeing new countries\nand people and making sweet music. They went to all sorts of places,\nsometimes to big cities, sometimes to little villages, sometimes to lonely\ncottages by the sea-shore, and sometimes they strolled along the green\nlanes and fields, singing and playing so exquisitely, that the very birds\nflew down from the trees to listen to them.\n\nOne day they crossed a dark line of hills, and came out on a wild moorland\ncountry, where they had never been before. On the side of the hill they saw\na little village, and at once turned towards it, but as they drew near\nChrysea said,\n\n\"What gloomy place is this? See how dark and miserable it looks.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"One by one the villagers came out of their cottages, and\ngathered round them to listen.\"--P. 44.]\n\n\"Let us try to cheer it with some music,\" said Arasmon, and began to play\nupon his lute, while Chrysea sang. One by one the villagers came out of\ntheir cottages and gathered round them to listen, but Chrysea thought she\nhad never before seen such forlorn-looking people. They were thin and bent,\ntheir faces were pale and haggard, also their clothes looked old and\nthreadbare, and in some places were worn into holes. But they crowded about\nArasmon and Chrysea, and begged them to go on playing and singing, and as\nthey listened the women shed tears, and the men hid their faces and were\nsilent. When they stopped, the people began to feel in their pockets as if\nto find some coins, but Arasmon cried,\n\n\"Nay, good friends, keep your money for yourselves. You have not too much\nof it, to judge by your looks. But let us stay with you for to-night, and\ngive us food and lodging, and we shall think ourselves well paid, and will\nplay and sing to you as much as you like.\"\n\n\"Stay with us as long as you can, stay with us always,\" begged the people;\nand each one entreated to be allowed to receive the strangers and give them\nthe best they had. So Arasmon and Chrysea played and sang to them till they\nwere tired, and at last, when the heavy rain began to fall, they turned\ntowards the village, but as they passed through its narrow streets they\nthought the place itself looked even sadder than its inmates. The houses\nwere ill-built, and seemed to be almost tumbling down. The streets were\nuneven and badly kept. In the gardens they saw no flowers, but dank dark\nweeds. They went into a cottage which the people pointed out to them, and\nArasmon lay down by the fire, calling to Chrysea to rest also, as they had\nwalked far, and she must be weary. He soon fell asleep, but Chrysea sat at\nthe door watching the dark clouds as they drifted over the darker houses.\nOutside the cottage hung a blackbird in a cage, with drooping wings and\nscanty plumage. It was the only animal they had yet seen in the village,\nfor of cats or dogs or singing-birds there seemed to be none.\n\nWhen she saw it, Chrysea turned to the woman of the house, who stood beside\nher, and said,\n\n\"Why don't you let it go? It would be much happier flying about in the\nsunshine.\"\n\n\"The sun never shines here,\" said the woman sadly. \"It could not pierce\nthrough the dark clouds which hang over the village. Besides, we do not\nthink of happiness. It is as much as we can do to live.\"\n\n\"But tell me,\" said Chrysea, \"what is it that makes you so sad and your\nvillage such a dreary place? I have been to many towns in my life, but to\nnone which looked like this.\"\n\n\"Don't you know,\" said the woman, \"that this place is spell-bound?\"\n\n\"Spell-bound?\" cried Chrysea. \"What do you mean?\"\n\nThe woman turned and pointed towards the moor. \"Over yonder,\" she said,\n\"dwells a terrible old wizard by whom we are bewitched, and he has a number\nof little dark elves who are his servants, and these are they who make our\nvillage what you see it. You don't know how sad it is to live here. The\nelves steal our eggs, and milk, and poultry, so that there is never enough\nfor us to eat, and we are half-starved. They pull down our houses, and undo\nour work as fast as we do it. They steal our corn when it is standing in\nsheaves, so that we find nothing but empty husks;\" and as she ceased\nspeaking the woman sighed heavily.\n\n\"But if they do all this harm,\" said Chrysea, \"why do not some of you go\nto the moor and drive them away?\"\n\n\"It is part of the spell,\" said the woman, \"that we can neither hear nor\nsee them. I have heard my grandfather say that in the old time this place\nwas no different to others, but one day this terrible old magician came and\noffered the villagers a great deal of money if they would let him dwell\nupon the moor; for before that it was covered with golden gorse and\nheather, and the country folk held all their merrymakings there, but they\nwere tempted with the gold, and sold it, and from that day the elves have\ntormented us; and as we cannot see them, we cannot get rid of them, but\nmust just bear them as best we may.\"\n\n\"That is a sad way to speak,\" said Chrysea. \"Cannot you find out what the\nspell really is and break it?\"\n\n\"It is a song,\" said the woman, \"and every night they sing it afresh. It is\nsaid that if any one could go to the moor between midnight and dawn, and\ncould hear them singing it, and then sing through the tune just as they\nthemselves do, the charm would be broken, and we should be free. But it\nmust be some one who has never taken their money, so we cannot do it, for\nwe can neither see nor hear them.\"\n\n\"But I have not taken their money,\" said Chrysea. \"And there is no tune I\ncannot sing when I have heard it once. So I will go to the moor for you and\nbreak the spell.\"\n\n\"Nay, do not think of such a thing,\" cried the woman. \"For the elves are\nmost spiteful, and you don't know what harm they might do to you, even if\nyou set us free.\"\n\nChrysea said no more, but all the evening she thought of what the woman had\ntold her, and still stood looking out into the dismal street. When she went\nto bed she did not sleep, but lay still till the clock struck one. Then she\nrose softly, and wrapping herself in a cloak, opened the door and stepped\nout into the rain. As she passed, she looked up and saw the blackbird\ncrouching in the bottom of its cage. She opened the cage door to let it\nfly, but still it did not move, so she lifted it out in her hand.\n\n\"Poor bird!\" said she gently; \"I wish I could give this village its liberty\nas easily as I can give you yours,\" and carrying it with her she walked on\ntowards the moor. It was a large waste piece of land, and looked as though\nit had been burnt, for the ground was charred and black, and there was no\ngrass or green plant growing on it, but there were some blackened stumps of\ntrees, and to these Chrysea went, and hid herself behind one to wait and\nsee what would come. She watched for a long time without seeing any one,\nbut at last there rose from the ground not far from her a lurid gleam,\nwhich spread and spread until it became a large circle of light, in the\nmidst of which she saw small dark figures moving, like ugly little men. The\nlight was now so bright that she could distinguish each one quite plainly,\nand never before had she seen anything so ugly, for they were black as ink,\nand their faces were twisted and looked cruel and wicked.\n\nThey joined hands, and, forming a ring, danced slowly round, and, as they\ndid so, the ground opened, and there rose up in their centre a tiny\nvillage exactly like the spell-bound village, only that the houses were but\na few inches high. Round this the elves danced, and then they began to\nsing. Chrysea listened eagerly to their singing, and no sooner had they\ndone, than she opened her lips and sang the same tune through from\nbeginning to end just as she had heard it.\n\nHer voice rang out loud and clear, and at the sound the little village\ncrumbled and fell away as though it had been made of dust.\n\nThe elves stood silent for a moment, and then with a wild cry they all\nrushed towards Chrysea, and at their head she saw one about three times the\nsize of the others, who appeared to be their chief.\n\n\"Come, quickly, let us punish the woman who has dared to thwart us,\" he\ncried. \"What shall we change her to?\"\n\n\"A frog to croak on the ground,\" cried one.\n\n\"No, an owl to hoot in the night,\" cried another.\n\n\"Oh, for pity's sake,\" implored Chrysea, \"don't change me to one of these\nloathsome creatures, so that, if Arasmon finds me, he will spurn me.\"\n\n\"Hear her,\" cried the chief, \"and let her have her will. Let us change her\nto no bird or beast, but to a bright golden harp, and thus shall she\nremain, until upon her strings some one shall play our tune, which she has\ndared to sing.\"\n\n\"Agreed!\" cried the others, and all began to dance round Chrysea and to\nsing as they had sung around the village. She shrieked and tried to run,\nbut they stopped her on every side. She cried, \"Arasmon! Arasmon!\" but no\none came, and when the elves' song was done, and they disappeared, all that\nwas left was a little gold harp hanging upon the boughs of the tree, and\nonly the blackbird who sat above knew what had come of poor Chrysea.\n\nWhen morning dawned, and the villagers awoke, all felt that some great\nchange had taken place. The heavy cloud which hung above the village had\ncleared away; the sun shone brightly, and the sky was blue; streams which\nhad been dry for years, were running clear and fresh: and the people all\nfelt strong, and able to work again; the trees were beginning to bud, and\nin their branches sang birds, whose voices had not been heard there for\nmany a long year. The villagers looked from one to another and said,\n\"Surely the spell is broken; surely the elves must have fled;\" and they\nwept for joy.\n\nArasmon woke with the first beam of the sun, and finding Chrysea was not\nthere, he rose, and went to seek her in the village, calling, \"Chrysea,\nChrysea! the sun is up and we must journey on our way;\" but no Chrysea\nanswered, so he walked down all the streets, calling \"Chrysea! come,\nChrysea!\" but no Chrysea came. Then he said,\n\n\"She has gone into the fields to look for wild flowers, and will soon be\nback.\" So he waited for her patiently, but the sun rose high, the villagers\nwent to their work, and she did not return. At this Arasmon was frightened,\nand asked every one he met if they had seen her, but each one shook his\nhead and said \"No, they had seen nothing of her.\"\n\nThen he called some of the men together and told them that his wife had\nwandered away, and he feared lest she might lose herself and go still\nfarther, and he asked them to help him to look for her. So some went one\nway, and some another, to search, and Arasmon himself walked for miles the\nwhole country round, calling \"Chrysea! Chrysea!\" but no answer came.\n\nThe sun was beginning to set and twilight to cover the land, when Arasmon\ncame on to the moor where Chrysea had met her fate. That, too, was changed.\nFlowers and grass were already beginning to grow there, and the children of\nthe village, who till now had never dared to venture near it, were playing\nabout it. Arasmon could hear their voices as he came near the tree against\nwhich Chrysea had leaned, and on which now hung the golden harp. In the\nbranches above sat the blackbird singing, and Arasmon stopped and listened\nto its song, and thought he had never heard a bird sing so sweetly before.\nFor it sang the magic song by which Chrysea had broken the elves' spell,\nthe first tune it had heard since it regained its liberty.\n\n\"Dear blackbird,\" said Arasmon, looking up to it, \"I wish your singing\ncould tell me where to find my wife Chrysea;\" and as he looked up he saw a\ngolden harp hanging upon the branches, and he took it down and ran his\nfingers over the strings. Never before did harp give forth such music. It\nwas like a woman's voice, and was most beautiful, but so sad that when\nArasmon heard it he felt inclined to cry. It seemed to be calling for help,\nbut he could not understand what it said, though each time he touched the\nstrings it cried, \"Arasmon, Arasmon, I am here! It is I, Chrysea;\" but\nthough Arasmon listened, and wondered at its tones, yet he did not know\nwhat it said.\n\nHe examined it carefully. It was a beautiful little harp, made of pure\ngold, and at the top was a pair of golden hands and arms clasped together.\n\n\"I will keep it,\" said Arasmon, \"for I never yet heard a harp with such a\ntone, and when Chrysea comes she shall sing to it.\"\n\nBut Chrysea was nowhere to be found, and at last the villagers declared she\nmust be lost, or herself have gone away on purpose, and that it was vain to\nseek her farther. At this Arasmon was angry, and saying that he would seek\nChrysea as long as he had life, he left the village to wander over the\nwhole world till he should find her. He went on foot, and took with him the\ngolden harp.\n\nHe walked for many, many miles far away from the village and the moor, and\nwhen he came to any farmhouses, or met any country people on the road he\nbegan to play, and every one thronged round him and stared, in breathless\nsurprise at his beautiful music. When he had done he would ask them, \"Have\nyou seen my wife Chrysea? She is dressed in white and gold, and sings more\nsweetly than any of the birds of heaven.\"\n\nBut all shook their heads and said, \"No, she had not been there;\" and\nwhenever he came to a strange village, where he had not been before, he\ncalled, \"Chrysea, Chrysea, are you here?\" but no Chrysea answered, only the\nharp in his hands cried whenever he touched its strings, \"It is I, Arasmon!\nIt is I, Chrysea!\" but though he thought its notes like Chrysea's voice, he\nnever understood them.\n\nHe wandered for days and months and years through countries and villages\nwhich he had never known before. When night came and he found himself in\nthe fields alone, he would lie down upon his cloak and sleep with his head\nresting upon the harp, and if by chance one of its golden threads was\ntouched it would cry, \"Arasmon, awake, I am here!\" Then he would dream that\nChrysea was calling him, and would wake and start up to look for her,\nthinking she must be close at hand.\n\nOne day, towards night, when he had walked far, and was very tired, he came\nto a little village on a lonely, rocky coast by the sea, and he found that\na thick mist had come up, and hung over the village, so that he could\nbarely see the path before him as he walked. But he found his way down on\nto the beach, and there stood a number of fisherwomen, trying to look\nthrough the mist towards the sea, and speaking anxiously.\n\n\"What is wrong, and for whom are you watching, good folk?\" he asked them.\n\n\"We are watching for our husbands,\" answered one. \"They went out in their\nboats fishing in the early morning, when it was quite light, and then\narose this dreadful fog, and they should have come back long ago, and we\nfear lest they may lose their way in the darkness and strike on a rock and\nbe drowned.\"\n\n\"I too, have lost my wife Chrysea,\" cried Arasmon. \"Has she passed by here?\nShe had long golden hair, and her gown was white and gold, and she sang\nwith a voice like an angel's.\"\n\nThe women all said, \"No, they had not seen her;\" but still they strained\ntheir eyes towards the sea, and Arasmon also began to watch for the return\nof the boats.\n\nThey waited and waited, but they did not come, and every moment the\ndarkness grew thicker and thicker, so that the women could not see each\nother's faces, though they stood quite near together.\n\nThen Arasmon took his harp and began to play, and its music floated over\nthe water for miles through the darkness, but the women were weeping so for\ntheir husbands, that they did not heed it.\n\n\"It is useless to watch,\" said one. \"They cannot steer their boats in such\na darkness. We shall never see them again.\"\n\n\"I will wait all night till morning,\" said another, \"and all day next day,\nand next night, till I see some sign of the boats, and know if they be\nliving or dead,\" but as she stopped speaking, there rose a cry of \"Here\nthey are,\" and two or three fishing-boats were pushed on to the sand close\nby where they stood, and the women threw their arms round their husbands'\nnecks, and all shouted for joy.\n\nThe fishermen asked who it was who had played the harp; \"For,\" they said,\n\"it was that which saved us. We were far from land, and it was so dark that\nwe could not tell whether to go to left or to right, and had no sign to\nguide us to shore; when of a sudden we heard the most beautiful music, and\nwe followed the sound, and came in quite safely.\n\n\"'Twas this good harper who played while we watched,\" said the women, and\none and all turned to Arasmon, and told him with tears of their gratitude,\nand asked him what they could do for him, or what they could give him in\ntoken of their thankfulness; but Arasmon shook his head and said, \"You can\ndo nothing for me, unless you can tell me where to seek my wife Chrysea. It\nis to find her I am wandering;\" and when the women shook their heads, and\nsaid again they knew nothing of her, the harp-strings as he touched them\ncried again,\n\n\"Arasmon! Arasmon! listen to me. It is I, Chrysea;\" but again no one\nunderstood it, and though all pitied him, no one could help him.\n\nNext morning when the mist had cleared away, and the sun was shining, a\nlittle ship set sail for foreign countries, and Arasmon begged the captain\nto take him in it that he might seek Chrysea still farther.\n\nThey sailed and sailed, till at last they came to the country for which\nthey were bound; but they found the whole land in confusion, and war and\nfighting everywhere, and all the people were leaving their homes and hiding\nthemselves in the towns, for fear of a terrible enemy, who was invading\nthem. But no one hurt Arasmon as he wandered on with his harp in his hand,\nonly no one would stop to answer him, when he asked if Chrysea had been\nthere, for every one was too frightened and hurried to heed him.\n\nAt last he came to the chief city where the King dwelt, and here he found\nall the men building walls and fortresses, and preparing to defend the\ntown, because they knew their enemy was coming to besiege it, but all the\nsoldiers were gloomy and low-spirited.\n\n\"It is impossible for us to conquer,\" they said, \"for there are three of\nthem to every one of us, and they will take our city and make our King\nprisoner.\"\n\nThat night as the watchmen looked over the walls, they saw in the distance\nan immense army marching towards them, and their swords and helmets\nglittered in the moonlight.\n\nThen they gave the signal, and the captains gathered together their men to\nprepare them for fighting; but so sure were they of being beaten that it\nwas with difficulty their officers could bring them to the walls.\n\n\"It would be better,\" said the soldiers, \"to lay down our arms at once and\nlet the enemy enter, for then we should not lose our lives as well as our\ncity and our wealth.\"\n\nWhen Arasmon heard this he sat upon the walls of the town, and began to\nplay upon his harp, and this time its music was so loud and clear, that it\ncould be heard far and wide, and its sound was so exultant and joyous, that\nwhen the soldiers heard it they raised their heads, and their fears\nvanished, and they started forward, shouting and calling that they would\nconquer or be killed.\n\nThen the enemy attacked the city, but the soldiers within met them with so\nmuch force that they were driven back, and had to fly, and the victorious\narmy followed them and drove them quite out of their country, and Arasmon\nwent with them, playing on his harp, to cheer them as they went.\n\nWhen they knew the victory was theirs, all the captains wondered what had\ncaused their sudden success, and one of the lieutenants said, \"It was that\nstrange harper who went with us, playing on his harp. When our men heard\nit, they became as brave as lions.\" So the captains sent for Arasmon, but\nwhen he came they were astonished to see how worn and thin he looked, and\ncould scarcely believe it was he who had made such wonderful music, for his\nface had grown thin and pale, and there were gray locks in his hair.\n\nThey asked him what he would like to have, saying they would give him\nwhatever he would choose, for the great service he had done them.\n\nArasmon only shook his head and said,\n\n\"There is nothing I want that you can give me. I am seeking the whole world\nround to find my wife Chrysea. It is many many years since I lost her. We\ntwo were as happy as birds on the bough. We wandered over the world singing\nand playing in the sunshine. But now she is gone, and I care for nothing\nelse.\" And the captains looked pityingly at him, for they all thought him\nmad, and could not understand what the harp said when he played on it\nagain, and it cried,\n\n\"Listen, Arasmon! I too am here--I, Chrysea.\"\n\nSo Arasmon left that city, and started again, and wandered for days and\nmonths and years.\n\nHe came by many strange places, and met with many strange people, but he\nfound no trace of Chrysea, and each day he looked older and sadder and\nthinner.\n\nAt length he came to a country where the King loved nothing on earth so\nmuch as music. So fond of it was he, that he had musicians and singers by\nthe score, always living in his palace, and there was no way of pleasing\nhim so well as by sending a new musician or singer. So when Arasmon came\ninto the country, and the people heard how marvellously he played, they\nsaid at once, \"Let us take him to the King. The poor man is mad. Hear how\nhe goes on asking for his wife; but, mad or not, his playing will delight\nthe King. Let us take him at once to the palace.\" So, though Arasmon would\nhave resisted them, they dragged him away to the court, and sent a\nmessenger to the King, to say they had found a poor mad wandering harper,\nwho played music the like of which they had never heard before.\n\nThe King and Queen, and all the court, sat feasting when the messenger came\nin saying that the people were bringing a new harper to play before his\nmajesty.\n\n\"A new harper!\" quoth he. \"That is good hearing. Let him be brought here to\nplay to us at once.\"\n\nSo Arasmon was led into the hall, and up to the golden thrones on which sat\nthe King and Queen. A wonderful hall it was, made of gold and silver, and\ncrystal and ivory, and the courtiers, dressed in blue and green and gold\nand diamonds, were a sight to see. Behind the throne were twelve young\nmaids dressed in pure white, who sang most sweetly, and behind them were\nthe musicians who accompanied them on every kind of instrument. Arasmon had\nnever in his life seen such a splendid sight.\n\n\"Come here,\" cried the King to him, \"and let us hear you play.\" And the\nsingers ceased singing, and the musicians smiled scornfully, for they could\nnot believe Arasmon's music could equal theirs. For he looked to be in a\nmost sorry plight. He had walked far, and the dust of the roads was on him.\nHis clothes were worn threadbare, and stained and soiled, while his face\nwas so thin and anxious and sad that it was pitiful to see; but his harp of\npure shining gold was undulled, and untarnished. He began to play, and then\nall smiles ceased, and the women began to weep, and the men sat and stared\nat him in astonishment. When he had done the King started up, and throwing\nhis arms about his neck, cried, \"Stay with me. You shall be my chief\nmusician. Never before have I heard playing like yours, and whatever you\nwant I will give you.\" But when he heard this, Arasmon knelt on one knee\nand said,\n\n\"My gracious lord, I cannot stay. I have lost my wife Chrysea. I must\nsearch all over the world till I find her. Ah! how beautiful she was, and\nhow sweetly she sang; her singing was far sweeter than even the music of my\nharp.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" cried the King. \"Then I too would fain hear her. But stay with\nme, and I will send messengers all over the world to seek her far and near,\nand they will find her much sooner than you.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"He began to play, and then all smiles ceased.\"--P. 66.]\n\nSo Arasmon stayed at the court, but he said that if Chrysea did not come\nsoon he must go farther to seek her himself.\n\nThe King gave orders that he should be clad in the costliest clothes and\nhave all he could want given to him, and after this he would hear no music\nbut Arasmon's playing, so all the other musicians were jealous, and wished\nhe had never come to the palace. But the strangest thing was that no one\nbut Arasmon could play upon his golden harp. All the King's harpers tried,\nand the King himself tried also, but when they touched the strings there\ncame from them a strange, melancholy wailing, and no one but Arasmon could\nbring out its beautiful notes.\n\nBut the courtiers and musicians grew more and more angry with Arasmon, till\nat last they hated him bitterly, and only wanted to do him some harm; for\nthey said,\n\n\"Who is he, that our King should love and honour him before us? After all,\nit is not his playing which is so beautiful; it is chiefly the harp on\nwhich he plays, and if that were taken from him he would be no better than\nthe rest of us;\" and then they began to consult together as to how they\nshould steal his harp.\n\nOne hot summer evening Arasmon went into the palace gardens, and sat down\nto rest beneath a large beech-tree, when a little way off he saw two\ncourtiers talking together, and heard that they spoke of him, though they\ndid not see him or know he was there.\n\n\"The poor man is mad,\" said one; \"of that there is little doubt, but, mad\nor not, as long as he plays on his harp the King will not listen to any one\nelse.\"\n\n\"The only way is to take the harp from him,\" said the other. \"But it is\nhard to know how to get it away, for he will never let it go out of his\nhands.\"\n\n\"We must take it from him when he is sleeping,\" said the first.\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the other; and then Arasmon heard them settle how and\nwhen they would go to his room at night to steal his harp.\n\nHe sat still till they were gone, and then he rose, and grasping it\ntenderly, turned from the palace and walked away through the garden gates.\n\n\"I have lost Chrysea,\" he said, \"and now they would take from me even my\nharp, the only thing I have to love in all this world, but I will go away,\nfar off where they will never find me,\" and when he was out of sight, he\nran with all his might, and never rested till he was far away on a lonely\nhill, with no one near to see him.\n\nThe stars were beginning to shine though it was not yet dark. Arasmon sat\non a stone and looked at the country far and near. He could hear the sheep\nbells tinkling around him, and far, far off in the distance he could see\nthe city and the palace he had left.\n\nThen he began to play on his harp, and as he played the sheep stopped\nbrowsing and drew near him to listen.\n\nThe stars grew brighter and the evening darker, and he saw a woman carrying\na child coming up the hill.\n\nShe looked pale and tired, but her face was very happy as she sat down not\nfar from Arasmon and listened to his playing, whilst she looked eagerly\nacross the hill as if she watched for some one who was coming. Presently\nshe turned and said, \"How beautifully you play; I never heard music like it\nbefore, but what makes you look so sad? Are you unhappy?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Arasmon, \"I am very miserable. I lost my wife Chrysea many\nyears ago, and now I don't know where she can be.\"\n\n\"It is a year since I have seen my husband,\" said the woman. \"He went to\nthe war a year ago, but now there is peace and he is coming back, and\nto-night he will come over this hill. It was just here we parted, and now I\nam come to meet him.\"\n\n\"How happy you must be,\" said Arasmon. \"I shall never see Chrysea again,\"\nand as he spoke he struck a chord on the harp, which cried, \"O Arasmon, my\nhusband! why do you not know me? It is I, Chrysea.\"\n\n\"Do not say that,\" continued the woman; \"you will find her some day. Why do\nyou sit here? Was it here you parted from her?\"\n\nThen Arasmon told her how they had gone to a strange desolate village and\nrested there for the night, and in the morning Chrysea was gone, and that\nhe had wandered all over the world looking for her ever since.\n\n\"I think you are foolish,\" said the woman; \"perhaps your wife has been\nwaiting for you at that village all this time. I would go back to the place\nwhere I parted from her if I were you, and wait there till she returns. How\ncould I meet my husband if I did not come to the spot where we last were\ntogether? We might both wander on for ever and never find each other; and\nnow, see, here he is coming,\" and she gave a cry of joy and ran to meet a\nsoldier who was walking up the hill.\n\nArasmon watched them as they met and kissed, and saw the father lift the\nchild in his arms, then the three walked over the hill together, and when\nthey were gone he sat down and wept bitterly. \"What was it she said?\" he\nsaid. \"That I ought to go back to the spot where we parted. She will not be\nthere, but I will go and die at the place where I last saw her.\" So again\nhe grasped his harp and started. He travelled many days and weeks by land\nand sea, till late one day he came in sight of the hill on which stood the\nlittle village. But at first he could not believe that he had come to the\nright place, so changed did all appear. He stopped and looked around him in\nastonishment. He stood in a shady lane, the arching trees met over his\nhead. The banks were full of spring flowers, and either side of the hedge\nwere fields full of young green corn.\n\n\"Can this be the wretched bare road down which we walked together? I would\nindeed it were, and that she were with me now,\" said he. When he looked\nacross to the village, the change seemed greater still. There were many\nmore cottages, and they were trim and well kept, standing in neat gardens\nfull of flowers. He heard the cheerful voices of the peasants, and the\nlaughter of the village children. The whole place seemed to be full of life\nand happiness. He stopped again upon the mound where he and Chrysea had\nfirst played and sung.\n\n\"It is many, many a long year since I was here,\" he said. \"Time has changed\nall things strangely; but it would be hard to say which is the more\naltered, this village or I, for then it was sunk in poverty and\nwretchedness, and now it has gained happiness and wealth, and I, who was so\nhappy and glad, now am broken-down and worn. I have lost my only wealth, my\nwife Chrysea. It was just here she stood and sang, and now I shall never\nsee her again or hear her singing.\"\n\nThere came past him a young girl driving some cows, and he turned and spoke\nto her. \"Tell me, I beg,\" he said, \"is not your village much changed of\nlate years? I was here long ago, but I cannot now think it the same place,\nfor this is as bright and flourishing a town as I have ever seen, and I\nremember it only as a dreary tumble-down village where the grass never\ngrew.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the girl, \"then you were here in our bad time, but we do not now\nlike to speak of that, for fear our troubles should return. Folks say we\nwere spell-bound. 'Tis so long ago that I can scarcely remember it, for I\nwas quite a little child then. But a wandering musician and his wife set us\nfree; at least, everything began to mend after they came, and now we think\nthey must have been angels from heaven, for next day they went, and we have\nnever seen them since.\"\n\n\"It was I and my wife Chrysea,\" cried Arasmon. \"Have you seen her? Has she\nbeen here? I have sought all over the world ever since, but I cannot find\nher, and now I fear lest she be dead.\"\n\nThe girl stared at him in surprise. \"You? you poor old man! Of what are you\ntalking? You must surely be mad to say such things. These musicians were\nthe most beautiful people upon the earth, and they were young and dressed\nin shining white and gold, and you are old and gray and ragged, and surely\nyou are very ill too, for you seem to be so weak that you can scarcely\nwalk. Come home with me, and I will give you food and rest till you are\nbetter.\"\n\nArasmon shook his head. \"I am seeking Chrysea,\" he said, \"and I will rest\nno more till I have found her;\" and the girl, seeing that he was\ndetermined, left him alone and went on her way driving her cows before\nher.\n\nWhen she had gone Arasmon sat by the wayside and wept as though his heart\nwould break. \"It is too true,\" he said; \"I am so old and worn that when I\nfind her she will not know me,\" and as he again fell a-weeping his hand\nstruck the harp-strings, and they cried, \"I have watched you through all\nthese years, my Arasmon. Take comfort, I am very near,\" and his tears\nceased, and he was soothed by the voice of the harp, though he knew not\nwhy.\n\nThen he rose. \"I will go to the moor,\" he said, \"and look for the tree on\nwhich I found my harp, and that will be my last resting-place, for surely\nmy strength will carry me no farther.\" So he tottered slowly on, calling,\nas he went, in a weak voice, \"Chrysea, my Chrysea! are you here? I have\nsought you over the world since you left me, and now that I am old and like\nto die, I am come to seek you where we parted.\"\n\nWhen he came upon the moor, he wondered again at the change of all the\ncountry round. He thought of the charred, blackened waste on which he had\nstood before, and now he looked with amazement at the golden gorse, the\npurple heather, so thick that he could scarcely pick his way amongst it.\n\n\"It is a beautiful place now,\" he said, \"but I liked it better years ago,\ndeserted and desolate though it was, for my Chrysea was here.\"\n\nThere were so many trees upon the common that he could not tell which was\nthe one on which his harp had hung, but, unable to go any farther, he\nstaggered and sank down beneath a large oak-tree, in whose branches a\nblackbird was singing most sweetly. The sun was setting just as of yore\nwhen he had found his harp, and most of the birds' songs were over, but\nthis one bird still sang sweet and clear, and Arasmon, tired and weak\nthough he was, raised his head and listened.\n\n\"I never heard bird sing like that,\" he said. \"What is the tune it sings? I\nwill play it on my harp before I die.\" And with what strength remained to\nhim he reached forth his trembling hand, and grasping his harp struck upon\nit the notes of the bird's song, then he fell back exhausted, and his eyes\nclosed.\n\nAt once the harp slid from his hand, and Chrysea stood beside him--Chrysea\ndressed as of old, in shining white and gold, with bright hair and eyes.\n\n\"Arasmon!\" she cried, \"see, it is I, Chrysea!\" but Arasmon did not move.\nThen she raised her voice and sang more sweetly than the bird overhead, and\nArasmon opened his eyes and looked at her.\n\n\"Chrysea!\" cried he; \"I have found my wife Chrysea!\" and he laid his head\non her bosom and died. And when Chrysea saw it her heart broke, and she lay\nbeside him and died without a word.\n\nIn the morning when some of the villagers crossed the common they saw\nArasmon and Chrysea lying beneath the oak-tree in each other's arms, and\ndrew near them, thinking they were asleep, but when they saw their faces\nthey knew they were dead.\n\nThen an old man stooped and looked at Chrysea, and said,\n\n\"Surely it is the woman who came to us and sang long ago, when we were in\nour troubles; and, though he is sadly changed and worn, it is like her\nhusband who played for her singing.\"\n\nThen came the girl who had driven the cows and told them how she had met\nArasmon, and all he had said to her.\n\n\"He searched everywhere for his wife, he said,\" said she. \"I am glad he has\nfound her. Where could she be?\"\n\n\"Would that we had known it was he,\" said they all, \"how we would have\ngreeted him! but see, he looks quite content and as if he wished nothing\nmore, since he has found his wife Chrysea.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE HEART OF PRINCESS JOAN\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nLong ago, in the days of fairies, there lived a King and Queen, who were\nrich and happy.\n\nBut the Queen was a proud, haughty woman, and disliked every one more\npowerful than herself. And most of all, she hated the fairy folk, and could\nnot bear them to come to the castle where she and the King dwelt.\n\nTime passed, and the Queen had a little baby,--a daughter whom they called\nJoan--and the bells were rung, and there were great rejoicings all over the\ncountry, and the King and Queen were happy as the day is long.\n\nOne day as the Queen sat by the cradle of the little Princess, watching\nit, she said, \"My pretty babe, when you are grown to be a woman you will be\nrich and beautiful, and you shall marry some young Prince, who will love\nyou dearly, and then in your turn be Queen, and have a fine palace, and\njewels, and lands to your heart's content.\" Scarcely had she done speaking\nwhen she heard a little noise beside her, and, looking up, saw a woman\ndressed in yellow from head to foot standing on the other side of the\ncradle. She wore a yellow cap, which covered her head completely, so that\nno hair was seen, and her eyes, which looked cunning and fierce, were\nyellow as her dress.\n\n\"And how do you know, Queen, that your child will be so happy? Whose help\nwill you seek to get her all these fine things?\" said the strange woman.\n\n\"I will ask no one's help,\" said the Queen haughtily, \"for I am Queen of\nthe land, and can have what I please.\"\n\nThe yellow woman laughed, and said, \"Don't be too sure, proud Queen; but\nthe next night that the moon is bright, guard well the Princess when the\nclock strikes twelve, lest aught of her's be stolen from her.\"\n\n\"No thief shall come near her,\" cried the Queen; but ere she had done\nspeaking the woman had vanished, and the Queen knew it was a fairy.\n\nThe sky that night was dark and overcast, and no moon to be seen, and the\nnext night was the same, but the third night the moon shone bright and\nclear, and as the clock struck twelve the Queen awoke and looked at the\nbaby, who was sleeping peacefully in its cradle; but 'twixt the strokes of\nthe clock she heard a faint whistling outside the window, which grew louder\nand fuller each moment. 'Twas as if some one whistled to decoy away a bird,\nand on hearing it the baby awoke and began to cry bitterly. The Queen could\nnot quiet her, try how she might. At last the little one gave one scream\nlouder than all the others and then lay quite still, and at that moment the\nQueen saw something flutter across the room like a tiny bird, with pink,\nsoft feathers. It flew straight out of the window, and the whistling\nceased, and all again was quiet as before. The Queen took the baby in her\narms and looked at it anxiously by the light of the moon, but it looked\nwell and slept calmly, so its mother placed it in its cradle and tried to\nforget the yellow fairy and the whistling.\n\nThe nurse of the Princess Joan was a very wise old woman who knew a great\ndeal of fairies and their ways, and as the child grew up she watched her\nwith an anxious face.\n\n\"She is under a charm,\" she said, \"though what it is I don't know; but\nbefore she is a woman they will see how different she is from others.\"\n\nThe nurse's words proved to be true. No one had ever seen a little girl\nlike the Princess. Nothing troubled her. She never shed one tear. If she\nwere angry she would stamp her feet and her eyes would flash, but she never\nwept, and she loved nobody. When her little dog died she laughed outright;\nwhen the King her father went to the war it did not grieve her; and when he\nreturned she was no happier than she had been when he was away. She never\nkissed her mother, or her ladies, and when they said they loved her, she\nstared at them, and asked what they meant. At this the ladies were angry\nwith her and chid her for being hard-hearted, but the old nurse always\nstopped them, saying,\n\n\"'Tis not her you should blame. She is enchanted, but 'tis not her fault.\"\n\nPrincess Joan grew up and was the loveliest woman in the land. It was many\nlong years since any one so fair had been seen, but for all that her mother\nmourned over her sorely, and her eyes were red with crying for her\nbeautiful daughter, who had never yet wept one tear herself.\n\nThe neighbouring country was governed by a King and Queen who had only one\nson, named Michael, whom everybody loved dearly. He was a handsome young\nman, and as good as he was handsome. He was as gracious to the poorest\nbeggar as to the greatest lord, and all the poor folk came to him to tell\nhim their troubles, if they thought they were badly treated; and because\nhe was brave and handsome also, the court people loved him as well as the\npeasants.\n\nIn this country there stood on a high hill a round tower, and at the top of\nit lived an old wizard. No man knew his age, for he had dwelt there for\nhundreds of years, and no one knew how the tower had been built, for it was\nmade of one huge stone, and there were no joins in it at all.\n\nThe King and Queen were afraid of the old magician, and never went near\nhim; indeed, no one in all the country had ever ventured to climb the tower\nand see the old man at his work except Prince Michael, who knew the old\nsorcerer well and did not fear him at all, but went up and down the tower\nas he chose.\n\nOne bright moonlight night it chanced that the Prince found himself alone\non the hill-side, and seeing a bright light shining from the top of the\ntower he resolved to enter and pay the old man a visit. So he went to a\nlittle door, and pushing it open stepped into a narrow, dark, winding\nstaircase, that went straight up the centre to the room at the top, in\nwhich the wizard dwelt. The staircase was pitch dark, for there were no\nwindows. Moreover, it was so narrow that only one person could walk in it\nat a time, but Prince Michael knew the way quite well, and climbed and\nclimbed till he saw a chink of light, and at last trod through a little\ndoorway into the room in which the sorcerer sat.\n\nThis room was as light as day, for it was lit by a lamp which the old man\nhimself had made, and in which no oil or wick was burning, but every day it\nwas filled with sunbeams, and held them at night after the sun had set.\n\nSo the whole room was brilliant, and in the middle sat the wizard, who was\na wonderful old man to look on, for he was all white. His beard was white\nas snow, and from afar you could not tell which was beard and which gown,\nbut when you came near you saw that the beard flowed nearly to his feet,\nand his skin was as white as either beard or gown. And his eyes were quite\ncolourless, but as bright as two candles.\n\nWhen Michael entered he sat looking at an enormous book full of coloured\npictures of little men and women about three inches high each. They were\nnot like other pictures, for they walked and moved over the page as though\nthey were alive.\n\n\"It is I, father. What book are you looking at?\" said Michael, stepping up\nto the old man's side.\n\n\"In this book,\" said the wizard, \"I keep the portraits of all the men and\nwomen in the world, and they are living portraits too, for they move, and\nlook just like the originals.\"\n\n\"That must be very amusing,\" cried Michael. \"Pray show me the portraits of\nall the Kings, and Queens, and Princesses. This will be delightful,\" and he\nknelt down by the old man and looked over his shoulder.\n\nThe sorcerer muttered to himself and turned over the pages, and then\nstopped at one on which Michael saw little figures of Kings and Queens of\nall sorts, some of which he knew, and some of which he had never seen\nbefore.\n\n[Illustration: \"'Tis their daughter, Princess Joan,\" said the wizard with a\nsigh. \"But do not look at her, my son, for she will bring nothing but\ntrouble to all who know her.\"--P. 87.]\n\n\"There,\" he cried, \"is old King R\u00e9n\u00e9 who came to our court last year, and\nthat is Queen Constance, and that is their nephew Prince Guilbert, who will\nbe king when they are dead, and here are our neighbours the King and Queen\nof the next country, and oh, my father, who is this lovely Princess next to\nthem?\"\n\n\"'Tis their daughter Princess Joan,\" said the wizard with a sigh. \"But do\nnot look at her, my son, for she will bring nothing but trouble to all who\nknow her.\"\n\n\"I don't care if she bring trouble or happiness,\" cried the Prince. \"But\nfor certain she is the most beautiful creature in the world,\" and he seized\nthe book and looked long at the tiny figure of the Princess. Truly it was\nvery beautiful. It was dressed in white, with a golden girdle round the\nwaist, and a wreath of golden daisies on its head, and as Michael looked,\nit turned upon the pages, and smiled at him till he smiled back again, and\ncould not move his eyes from it.\n\nWhen the wizard saw this, he took the book from the young man's hands, and\nhid it away, saying,\n\n\"Think no more of Princess Joan, however beautiful she be, or one day you\nwill rue it dearly.\"\n\nPrince Michael made no answer, but he thought all the more of the little\npicture of the Princess. After he had left the tower, and returned to the\npalace, he could not forget her, but dreamt of her all night, and thought\nof her all day.\n\nNext morning he went to the King and said, \"My father, I am come to beg\nthat you will send to the King of the next country and ask if I may have\nhis daughter, Princess Joan, for my wife, for I have seen her portrait, and\nthere is no one in the world whom I love so well.\"\n\nWhen the King heard this he was delighted.\n\n\"Our good neighbours,\" he said, \"are rich and powerful, and it will be a\ncapital thing for our son to marry their daughter.\" So he at once sent off\nan ambassador to beg for the hand of Princess Joan for Prince Michael.\n\nJoan's father and mother were delighted with the offer, and at once\nresolved to accept it; but the Queen's heart sank within her, for she\nthought, \"Our poor Joan is not like any other maid who ever lived before,\nand perhaps when Prince Michael sees her and finds this out, he will refuse\nto wed her after all;\" but she said nothing of her fears, and the\nambassador returned to the court, loaded with presents, and bearing a\nmessage of acceptance.\n\nTill his return Prince Michael knew no peace or rest, but wandered about\namong the hills by himself, thinking of Joan, and still, in his heart, he\nwondered what the magician had meant when he said that if he thought much\nof Princess Joan, one day he would rue it.\n\nAt last he said to himself, \"I will disguise myself as a poor man, and go\nand see my Princess for myself before the ambassador returns, then shall I\nknow what the wizard means.\"\n\nSo he dressed himself as a peasant, and started alone without telling any\none whither he went, and he travelled day and night till he came to the\ncountry where Joan dwelt and to her father's palace. Then he walked near\nthe palace gardens, and no one noticed him, and he saw a group of lovely\nladies, who sat together on the grass.\n\nHis heart beat high as he looked at them, for in their midst, most\nbeautiful of all, sat the Princess Joan. Her yellow hair fell to her waist,\nher face was like a blush rose, and her eyes were blue as forget-me-nots,\nbut when she lifted them, he saw that they were clear and hard as glass,\nand her voice when she spoke was like a bright cold bell.\n\nThere ran up to her a little serving-maid, crying bitterly, and said,\n\n\"I beg of you, Princess, to let me return to my own home for a time, for my\nfather, the huntsman, has broken his leg and is very ill.\"\n\n\"Why should you cry for that?\" said the Princess. \"'Tis your father and not\nyou that is hurt; but you may go, for when you cry and your eyes look red\nyou are ugly, and I don't like to see you, so be sure that when you return\nyou are pretty and bright as ever.\"\n\nWhen her ladies heard her they looked angry, but no one spoke, and the\nlittle maid went crying away.\n\nUp there came a groom from the palace and said,\n\n\"Your Royal Highness, the horse that you rode yesterday is dead, and we\nthink it is because you would ride so far when it was already tired, as we\ntold you.\"\n\n\"Dead is it?\" cried the Princess. \"Then see quickly and get me another,\nthat I may ride again to-morrow, and be sure this time that it is a good\nstrong horse, or it may give way beneath me and so my ride be shortened.\"\n\nThe groom went away muttering, and the Princess's ladies looked even graver\nthan before, but the Princess's own face was bright as a summer sky, and\nshe talked on without heeding their sad looks.\n\nPrince Michael turned away with a heavy heart.\n\n\"The magician spoke truly,\" he said to himself, \"and there will be nothing\nbut sorrow for all those who love my poor Princess Joan.\"\n\nYet he could not bear to leave her and return at once to his own home, and\nstill he remained near the palace, and for some days watched her\nunnoticed, when she walked and rode, and listened to all she said, and each\nday he grieved more and more, for she never said one kind loving word to\nany one; yet each day when he saw how beautiful she was he loved her more\nand more.\n\nWhen he again returned to his own home he found great rejoicings\neverywhere, for the ambassador had returned with a message from Joan's\nfather promising she should marry the Prince, and everywhere preparations\nwere being made for the entry of the Princess to her new home.\n\n\"And now, my son,\" said the King, \"all is arranged for you to journey in\nstate to her father's court and bring back your bride, so now I hope that\nyou are happy and wish for nothing more.\"\n\nOn hearing this Prince Michael's face was sad and grave, and his father and\nmother wondered what ailed him. But he said to himself, \"I will never marry\nmy Joan till she loves me as I do her, and how can she ever do that when\nshe loves no one, not even her own father and mother?\"\n\nAt the court of Joan's father grand preparations had been made, and all was\nin excitement when Prince Michael arrived with servants, and horses, and\npresents for the bride.\n\nThe King and Queen sat in state to receive him, and beside them was Joan,\nand she looked so beautiful, in a dress as blue as her eyes, that every one\nsaid, \"How glad he will be when he sees how lovely she is.\"\n\nThere was a blowing of trumpets and ringing of bells when Prince Michael,\nfollowed by his attendants, entered, and the King and Queen and all the\ncourtiers rose.\n\nHe passed up the hall to the thrones on which they sat, and kneeling on one\nknee, kissed their hands, and last he kissed the hand of the Princess, but\nhe did not lift his eyes from the ground or look in her face, and his own\nwas so sad that the people whispered to each other, and said, \"What is the\nmatter, and why does he look so unhappy? Surely he ought to be content when\nhe sees how beautiful she is.\"\n\nAt night when the merrymakings were over the Prince sent a message to the\nQueen, begging she would speak with him alone, and when she heard this her\nheart sank, and she thought, \"He must know that there is something amiss\nwith Joan, and perhaps he comes to say he will not marry her after all.\"\n\nSo she sent every one away, except the old nurse and bid the Prince to\ncome.\n\nWhen he came in and saw her sad looks he said, \"You have guessed then,\nQueen, why I come to speak to you. Tell me truly what ails Princess Joan,\nand why is she unlike any one I ever saw.\" The Queen cried bitterly, and\nsaid, \"I know not; would I did!\" but the old nurse said,\n\n\"I know and will tell you, Prince. Princess Joan is under a spell. A bad\nfairy enchanted her when she was a tiny baby, and till this charm is\nbroken, she will never be like other people.\"\n\n\"And what is the charm?\" asked the Prince.\n\n\"Nay, that I don't know,\" said the nurse. Then she told Michael of the\nyellow woman and the whistling the Queen had heard at night; and as he\nlistened the Prince sighed and said, \"There is no charm which cannot be\nbroken if one does but know how, but this is hard to do, for we do not know\nwhat the spell is, or who is the fairy who cast it. But bid the people\ncease their preparations, Queen, and stop the wedding rejoicings, for there\nwill be no wedding. No, not till I have found the fairy who has wronged my\nJoan, and made her set her free. To-morrow I shall start at break of day,\nand journey to the farthest ends of the world, to search for what can break\nthe charm. But I pray, Queen, that Joan may wait for me for seven years,\nand if, when they are past, I have not returned, and you have heard nothing\nof me, you must think that I am dead and gone, and marry her to whom you\nwill, for if I be alive, I will return before then. And till seven years\nare past remember that Joan is still mine.\"\n\nOn hearing this the Queen wept still more, and begged the Prince either to\nremain and marry Joan, or to leave her and return to his home and forget\nher; but if he wandered away to lands of goblins and fairies, no one would\nknow what had become of him, and he would never find the fairy who had\ncharmed Joan or learn how to break the spell; but Prince Michael only shook\nhis head, and said, \"I have sworn that I will not marry Joan till she loves\nme as I do her, neither can I return to my home and forget her, so bid her\nbe ready at dawn to-morrow to bid me farewell, and tell none that I am\ngoing till I have gone. Also I beg you to send a messenger to my father and\nmother to tell them why I do not return, for I will not see them first,\nlest they too should try to dissuade me.\" The Queen said no more, but she\ncried very bitterly; but the old nurse smiled and nodded to Michael and\nsaid,\n\n\"You do well. You are a noble Prince, and would well deserve our Princess's\nlove.\"\n\nNext morning at break of day the Queen awoke the Princess and bade her\nrise, for Prince Michael waited to bid her good-bye. The Prince stood at\nthe door of the palace, and when Princess Joan came out looking lovelier\nthan ever in the dim morning light, the tears filled his eyes, and he\nthought, \"Most likely I shall never see her again, and then she will never\nknow how much I have loved her.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Joan,\" he said; \"do not quite forget me for seven years, for\nperhaps I may yet come back and marry you.\"\n\n\"And why do you go?\" said Joan; \"I had thought there would be a grand\nwedding, and I should have all the gifts that are being prepared for me,\nand now I shall have nothing; but good-bye, if go you must.\"\n\nMichael sighed as he mounted his horse and bade her farewell. When he\nlooked back at the palace, the Queen and Joan still stood at the door, and\nthe Queen sobbed; but Princess Joan looked quite happy and contented, and\nsmiled brightly.\n\nPrince Michael rode and rode, till he came to his own home, and then he\nturned at once to the tower in which dwelt the magician. He climbed the\ntower and found the old man sitting alone as before, but he had no book\nbefore him, and he looked very grave.\n\n\"I know why you are come,\" he said, as soon as Michael entered the room.\n\"So you have seen Princess Joan; and do you still wish to marry her?\"\n\n\"I will marry her, or no one,\" said Michael. \"But not till I have found out\nwho has bewitched her, and have broken the charm.\"\n\n\"You will have to search far for that,\" said the wizard; \"And it may be\nyears ere you could set her free. Forget her, my son, and return to your\nown home, and do not waste your life in a fruitless quest.\"\n\n\"I will seek to break the charm, even if it take my whole life,\" said\nMichael. \"But tell me what it is, and how shall I find out how to break\nit.\"\n\n\"A fairy has stolen her heart,\" said the wizard, \"and that is why she loves\nno one, and can feel no sorrow; she has no heart with which to love or\npity, and till it is found and restored to her, she will be hard and cold\nas stone. The fairy swore she would be revenged on her mother for her\npride, and so she is.\"\n\n\"Then I will go and seek her heart, and bring it back to her,\" said\nMichael. \"But where shall I look for it? Tell me at least where has the\nfairy hidden it.\"\n\n\"She has taken it to a castle in which are kept all the hearts of men and\nwomen, that fairies steal, or that they themselves throw away; and this\ncastle is very far from here; moreover, it is guarded by an old gnome, who\nis spiteful and cruel, and who pays no heed to those who beg him to let\nthem enter. Give up the Princess and return to your home, for if you go,\nyou will only die, or be enchanted like poor Princess Joan.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless, I shall go,\" said Michael. \"So tell me what path to take,\nand I will start at once.\"\n\nOn hearing this the sorcerer took from his bosom a small round piece of\nglass, and gave it to the young man. \"Take this,\" he said; \"It is all that\nI can give you, to help you, and through it you must look at the stars, and\nyou will see that they are all of different colours--blue, green, red, and\nyellow; look for the one which is the deepest, brightest red, and follow\nit; it will lead you many miles both by land and sea, but follow steadily,\nand let nothing turn you from your course, and you will surely come to the\ncastle wherein is imprisoned the heart of your Princess.\"\n\nThe Prince thanked the magician, and took the glass; then bidding him\n\"Good-bye,\" he left the strangely lighted chamber, and went down the dark\nstaircase, and stood again on the hill outside, with the dark sky overhead\nfilled with shining stars.\n\nMichael raised the glass and looked at them through it, and then he almost\nshouted with surprise, for they looked wonderful. They were like jewels of\nall colours--green, blue, yellow, pink--and in the south was one of a deep\nglowing red, like a blood-red rose, and Michael knew that that was the star\nhe must follow.\n\nThen he looked back towards his father's palace. \"Farewell,\" he said; \"some\nday I will return, and bring with me my Princess Joan.\" So he set off, and\njourneyed and journeyed, till he had reached towns and villages which he\nhad never seen before. All that night he travelled while the stars shone,\nand he could see the rosy star to follow. But when the stars grew pale,\nand the sun rose, and people began to wake up and turn to their work, he\nlay down under a tree and slept soundly. When he woke the day was almost\ndone, and the sun was sinking. So he went to a little town near and bought\nfood, and rested till again the stars shone in the sky. Then he rose and\nwent on all night, still following the crimson star. So passed many days\nand nights, and he journeyed through strange lands, and his heart sank when\nhe thought, \"So may I wander all round the world, and come no nearer to the\nstar, or to the castle where they keep the heart of my poor Joan.\"\n\nAt last he came to the sea-shore, and in front of him lay a great cold sea,\nand beyond it he saw no sign of land. But the star shone right over it, and\nhe knew that he must cross, if he still would follow it. It was in the\nevening, the sun had set, but some fishermen still remained on the beach,\nresting beside their boats. Michael went up to them, and taking some money\nfrom his pocket, asked for how much they would sell him one of their\nboats.\n\nAt this the men looked surprised, and one of them said, \"Why do you wish to\nbuy a boat? We use them to fish near the shore, but no boat or ship has\never crossed this sea, for no one knows what land is beyond.\"\n\n\"Then I will be the first to find out,\" said Michael. \"Tell me how much you\nwant, and give me your largest boat.\" On this the men muttered together,\nand one said, \"He is mad.\" \"Yes,\" said another, \"but his money is good, for\nall that. Let the madman have his way. It will hurt him, not us.\" So they\ngave Michael their best boat, and he paid them well, and he set sail and\nsteered where the red star shone. He sailed all night till he had left\nevery trace of land behind him, and saw no shore in front, only the cold,\ngray sea on every side. By day he kept the boat still, afraid lest he\nshould get out of the track of the star, but when the second night came he\nwas so weary that in spite of himself he fell asleep. When he awoke he\nfound the sun had risen, and his boat was drifting close to land. It was a\nflat, lonely shore, without trees or grass growing in sight, and facing\nhim was an immense castle. It was built of black marble, and a more gloomy\nplace could not be, for the windows were small and high up, and were all\nbarred across, with heavy iron bars, and the castle had no spires or\ntowers, but was one square black block, and looked more like a prison than\na castle. Around it was a high wall, and outside this a moat, without a\nbridge.\n\nMichael steered his boat to shore, and stepped from it, and looked about\nfor some way by which he could cross the moat, and try for entrance to the\ncastle. Then he saw a little hut near, and beside it lay an old man\napparently fast asleep. He was small and dark, and his face was gray and\nwrinkled as a monkey's, and he had no hair on his head. Close beside him\ncoiled up was a large snake, also asleep. Michael stood watching them both,\nafraid to wake them, when, without a word, the gray man raised his head,\nand opening a pair of dull, gray eyes, fixed them on him. Still he did not\nspeak, and at last the Prince, growing impatient, went up to him and said,\n\"Friend, I beg you to tell me how I am to enter the castle; or if you have\nthe key, to give it to me.\"\n\nOn this the old man answered, \"I have the key, and no one can enter without\nmy leave. What will you give me for it?\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Michael, \"I have nothing but money,\" and he took some coins\nfrom his pocket as he spoke.\n\nAt this the old man laughed. \"Your money is nothing to me,\" he said; \"But\nlook yonder. Over there I am building a wall of heavy stones, and I am old,\nand my strength fails me; stay and work for me at that wall, and in return\nI will give you the key of the castle.\"\n\n\"But how long must I work?\" said Michael, \"For unless I can enter the\ncastle before seven years are over, it will be no use to me.\n\n\"Look at that serpent,\" said the old man; \"It is sitting on its eggs. When\nthey are hatched you shall have the key and open the castle door. Till then\nyou must be my slave.\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said Michael, who was delighted; \"for no snake could take seven\nyears hatching its eggs.\"\n\nThen the old man rose, and beckoning to him to follow, went into the little\ncottage. From a nail upon the wall he took a pair of manacles fastened\ntogether by a heavy iron chain. These he slipped over Michael's wrists, and\nstooping down over them, muttered a few words, and at once the manacles\nfastened together as if they had been locked, and Michael could not move\nthem, or draw out his hands. Then the old man took down another heavy chain\nand passed it over the first and fastened it with more iron rings to his\nankles, so that he could only move his arms and hands a little way, and\ncould not raise them high, and could only walk with slow careful steps.\nThis done, he pointed to where, on the wall high up, hung a gleaming golden\nsword, the handle of which was set with precious stones.\n\n\"That,\" said he, \"is the key of the castle, and you need only push the\ndoors with its point and they will all fly open; but while your hands are\nchained you cannot reach it to lift it down, but when the serpent's eggs\nare hatched your iron rings will fall off, and you yourself may take the\nsword down from its place, and push your way into the castle. Now get you\nto your work, and work hard, or you may rue it.\"\n\nThen he showed Michael how he was to move the heavy stones, and where to\nbuild with them, and he himself sat down by the serpent and watched him,\nwhile the Prince went to work with a light heart, for he thought, \"It is\nhard work while it lasts, but 'twill not be for long, and 'tis not much to\ndo to win my Joan.\" So he worked hard till the sun had set, and then the\nold man rose, saying, \"Enough,\" and called him into the hut and gave him\nfood and drink, but he ate nothing himself, and then he showed him where he\ncould sleep in one corner, and Michael lay down and slept soundly and\ndreamed of Joan.\n\nAt break of day he was waked by the old man, who again gave him plenty to\neat, and again ate nothing, but what he gave to him he took from an urn in\nthe corner, and when he had done he put into the urn the fragments that\nwere left.\n\nAll day Michael worked hard, and in the evening as he passed by the snake,\nhe looked at it as it lay coiled over its eggs, and said,\n\n\"How soon will your work be done, and mine also, good snake? Make haste, I\npray, that I may find my way into the castle, and return to my Princess.\"\n\nSo the days passed. Each morning the old man awoke Michael and gave him\nfood, and set him to work, and all day he laboured hard. Then when night\napproached, he called \"Enough,\" and beckoning him into the hut, gave him\nplenty to eat and drink, but never ate himself, and beside that one word\nnever spoke, but crouched all day beside the snake, with closed eyes as if\nasleep.\n\nMeantime, the doors of the castle never opened, and no one was seen going\nin, or coming out; but sometimes, towards night, strange noises might be\nheard from within its walls; sometimes there were wails and moans, which it\nfilled Michael with horror to hear, and sometimes there was sweet singing,\nso sweet that it drew tears to his eyes.\n\nBut the days passed, and the serpent never moved from its eggs, and\nMichael's heart began to be oppressed with fear, lest the old man was\ndeceiving him, and they should never be hatched at all. As each day passed,\nhe put aside a stone on a bare rock, and one day when he counted over the\nstones to see how many days were gone, he found that more than a year had\npassed since his boat had brought him to the shore. His hands had grown\nhard and brown and cracked, with working at the heavy stones, and his face\nand neck were blistered and sunburnt with the fierce sun that beat upon\nthem as he worked. His clothes were cut and torn and soiled, and yet he\nseemed to be no nearer entering the castle. Then he rose and went into the\ncottage, and looked longingly at the sword which hung high up, on the\nwalls, and raised his arms to try and reach it, but the chains held him\ndown, and as he turned from it in despair he saw the old man standing in\nthe doorway watching him with his cold dull eyes.\n\n\"What would you do here?\" he asked; \"have I not bid you serve me till the\nserpent's eggs are hatched, and then the sword shall be yours?\"\n\n\"And when will the serpent's eggs be hatched?\" cried Michael in despair.\n\n\"That,\" said the old man, \"I cannot tell, but a bargain is a bargain; keep\nyou your part and I will keep mine.\" Then he turned again to where the\nserpent lay, and lying down beside it closed his eyes, and Michael returned\nto his work mournfully.\n\nTime passed, but there came no change. Michael despaired in his heart, but\nhe could not have escaped even if he would, because of the chains which\nhung from his arms.\n\n\"I will work here,\" he said, \"till the seven years are out, then I will\nclimb on the wall which I have built and throw myself into the sea and end\nmy troubles.\"\n\nSometimes at night he would take from his bosom the piece of magic glass\nwhich the wizard had given him and would gaze through it at the star which\nstill looked a bright crimson colour.\n\n\"Why have you led me here, cruel star,\" he asked sadly, \"if you cannot help\nme more? Are you shining over my home and my Princess, and does she\nremember me? The seven long years will soon be passed, and they will wed\nher to another king, and it will be all of no avail that I have given up\neverything to find her heart, since I have only broken my own.\"\n\nSo the time passed. Michael worked hard by day, but by night he lay and\nwept. One day, when the seven years had nearly worn themselves away, he\nbent over a pool of water, and in it saw his own form, and he saw that his\nhair was thin and streaked with gray, and his face furrowed and seamed, and\nhis eyes dim with crying, also his shoulders were bowed with hard work, and\nhis clothes, once so gorgeous, now hung mere rags upon his bent form.\n\n\"Now all is in vain,\" said he, \"for if even I returned to my own home no\none will know me, so changed am I. I will go and kill the snake that has\ncaused my misery, and then I will slay the old man who has deceived me.\"\n\nSo he went up to the snake, who lay motionless coiled over its eggs as\nusual, and reached out his hand to grasp its throat, but as he did so his\ntears fell and dropped upon its head, and it writhed fearfully and then\nglided away so fast that he could not see where it went, and left the heap\nof gray eggs bare beneath his hand. The old man lay beside them as still as\nusual, and did not move or open his eyes, even when the snake glided\nhissing past him.\n\n\"If the snake has escaped me,\" cried Michael, \"then at least I can destroy\nthe eggs;\" and lifting his heel he struck them with all his might, but his\nfoot left no mark upon them, nor even moved them from their place. They\nmight have been made of iron, and each one nailed to the ground, so hard\nand firm they stood.\n\nMichael burst out weeping afresh. \"How foolish I am,\" he said, \"Yes, and\nwicked too. It is not the fault of the poor snake that its eggs are not\nhatched. Perhaps it is enchanted like me, and waits as patiently for them;\"\nand he bent his head till his tears fell upon the eggs. No sooner did they\ntouch them, than the shells broke, and the pieces fell asunder, and from\neach egg came a small moving thing, though what it was Michael did not see,\nfor he leaped to his feet with a shout of joy, which filled the air, and\nechoed again from the castle. At this the old man opened his eyes, and\nraising himself gazed, as if thunderstruck, with astonishment at the eggs.\n\n\"Tis a miracle,\" he cried, chuckling with joy.\n\nBut out of the eggs, there came no one fully formed animal, but from one\negg came a foot, from another a leg, from another a tail, and from one a\nhead, and each looked as though it belonged to some different beast, yet\nall these drew themselves together, and joined so well that the join was\nnot to be seen. And they made a hideous monster of many colours. Then the\nmanacles on Michael's wrists burst asunder, and the chains fell to the\nground.\n\n\"Now,\" he cried, \"I will go and take for myself the sword from the wall,\nand win my way into the castle, and nothing shall hinder me more.\" And he\nturned and rushed into the hut. There, upon the wall hung the shining\nsword, and Michael reached out his hand and seized it firmly, and drew it\ndown from its place.\n\n\"I will swear a vow,\" he cried, \"upon this sword, that when I enter the\ncastle, I will say not one word for good or for ill to any one, save to ask\nfor what I come to seek, lest I should again be kept for years. Moreover, I\nwill not taste food or drink, till I have found the heart of my Joan to\ntake back to her.\" Then, with the sword in his hand, he passed the old man,\nwho still sat chuckling over the monster, too busy to heed him, and he went\nstraight on to the bridgeless moat. It was not wide, and he swam it easily,\nand scrambled up the bank by the stone wall. He pushed with the point of\nthe sword at the gate, and it at once flew open, and he stood in the outer\ncourt. Then he saw a heavy door in the wall of the castle, and went up to\nit, nothing fearing, and, on touching it with the sword's point, it too\nflew open at once, and he entered.\n\nHe stepped into a passage filled with flowers and hung with silken\nhangings. He trod upon a velvet carpet, and the air was laden with sweet\nscents, and from afar he heard sweet voices singing. He strode on through\nanother door, and yet another, and at each step he took all things became\nlovelier, till at last he passed into a splendid chamber, the like of which\nhe had never seen before. In the ceiling were precious stones set in\npatterns of flowers and crowns, on the walls were soft velvet hangings and\nembroideries. The furniture was of carven gold and silver and ivory, and\neverywhere grew flowers of wonderful beauty, which sprang from the floor\nand crept along the walls, and filled the air with sweet scents, and\nhanging on the walls were cages which held what Michael thought were birds,\nwhich sang most sweetly.\n\nOn a table in the centre of the room was a banquet all laid ready, and as\nMichael looked at it and wondered where he should go farther, a curtain was\ndrawn aside, and there stepped forth a stately dame dressed in black\nvelvet, who came smiling towards him and held out her hand, saying, \"I am\nindeed glad to see you, I am mistress of this castle, and you are very\nwelcome; but I beg that before you tell me from where you come and what you\nseek, you will sit down and share this feast with me.\" Michael was\nbeginning to answer, when he felt the sword in his hand, and remembered his\noath, and looking full in the face of the new-comer, said, \"I seek the\nheart of Princess Joan.\"\n\n\"And you shall find it,\" answered the grand lady. \"But first you must rest\nand eat, for you must be both tired and hungry;\" and so saying she sat at\none end of the table, and signed to Michael to sit at the other, and took\nthe golden covers from the dishes, and prepared to begin the feast. Michael\nknew not what to do, but he sat at the table in silence, and all at once\nbethought him of the magic glass in his bosom, and drawing it forth when\nshe was not looking, gazed through it at her, and then he beheld no\nfinely-dressed lady, but a wizened old woman, robed in yellow, with an evil\nyellow face and evil yellow eyes. He hid the glass again, and sat still as\nstone, though the yellow woman pressed on him the different dishes again\nand again. He saw that her face grew white with rage. Then all of a sudden\nshe disappeared, and the lights went out, and he was left alone in the\ndarkness. He rose and searched for the door by which he had entered, but\ncould not find it nor any way out of the room; so there he was, a prisoner\nalone with the singing-birds.\n\n\"Never mind,\" quoth he to himself cheerily; \"I have at last reached the\ninside of the castle, and surely shall find the heart of my Joan, and if I\nkeep my vow and neither eat nor drink here or say aught but ask for that\nwhich I seek, nothing can harm me.\"\n\nSo he sat down contentedly to wait for what might come. There he sat the\nwhole night, and no one came near him, but the birds sang so beautifully\nthat he almost forgot how the time passed.\n\nWhen morning dawned and light again shone through the windows, he searched\neverywhere for some way out of the room, but the door had quite\ndisappeared. Moreover, the feast had gone from the table. The day passed,\nand still he was all alone, and as evening again drew in he sat and\nlamented, quite wearied out and faint for want of food. But when the\ndarkness came, the lamps about the room were suddenly lit as if by magic,\nand all was brilliant, and a curtain was drawn aside, and there came in a\nlittle child with bright eyes and hair, who held in one hand a goblet and\nin the other a well-filled plate. These she placed before Michael, saying,\n\"My mistress sends you these, and begs that you will eat and drink, for you\nmust be both hungry and thirsty;\" but Michael pushed away the goblet and\nthe plate, and said,\n\n\"I seek the heart of Princess Joan; I beg you to give it to me.\"\n\nTo this the seeming child answered nothing, but still pressed on him the\nfood and wine. Then Michael took from his bosom the magic glass and looked\nthrough it, and saw no lovely child, but the same yellow hag with\nshrivelled face and evil eyes. With a cry of rage she disappeared, and\nthough Michael searched everywhere, he could not find the way by which she\nwent.\n\nNow indeed he began to feel that unless he ate he could not live much\nlonger, and wept from very weakness.\n\n\"Still I will neither eat nor drink,\" he said, \"till I have found what I\ncame to seek, and the fairy cannot refuse me much longer.\"\n\nNight passed and day came, and he lay upon a couch quite still, too weak to\nmove, yet he feared to sleep lest some spell should be thrown upon him.\n\nSo he lay all day, and as evening again drew near he began to feel despair,\nfor he knew that in another day he would be dead of hunger.\n\n\"Oh! Why have I toiled for seven years,\" he cried aloud, \"and at last won\nmy way into the castle, if now I am to be starved to death, and Joan will\nnever know how I have laboured for her sake?\"\n\n\"And why should you be starved to death, my Prince?\" said a voice; and at\nonce the lights lit themselves, and into the room stepped the figure of\nthe Princess Joan just as he had seen her last, dressed in white and gold,\nand in one hand bearing a golden goblet filled with clear ruby-coloured\nwine.\n\nMichael gave a cry of joy and held out his arms to clasp her in them, but\nas he did so the sword sprang as it hung at his side, and he remembered his\nvow and drew back and gazed at her without speaking.\n\nShe knelt down beside him and raised the goblet to his lips, saying softly,\n\"My poor love, how long you have worked for me! Pray drink now, that you\nmay be refreshed ere we two start for our home.\"\n\nThen as he looked at her face and saw how beautiful she was his heart\nwavered, and he thought, \"Can it be my Joan, and that I have truly won\nher?\" and almost had he let her place the wine at his lips, while with one\nhand she stroked his hair and murmured to him the while in a soft voice,\nwhen the cup struck against the magic glass in his bosom, and he drew it\nforth and looked at her, and he trembled with horror and disgust, for there\nhe saw no lovely Princess Joan, but the same yellow hag, who held in one\nskinny hand a goblet, formed from a skull, from which she would have him\ndrink.\n\nMichael sprang to his feet and dashed it from him, and the ruby wine poured\non the floor, and there followed an awful noise like a peal of thunder, and\nthe room was full of smoke, and wild cries were heard.\n\nHe grasped the sword and sat still, trembling all over; but when the smoke\ncleared away the whole aspect of the room was changed; the silken hangings,\nand gold, and pearls, and flowers, were all gone, and he was sitting in a\ngrim gray chamber like a vault, and in front of him stood the yellow hag,\nwhose eyes shone spitefully and her lips laughed wickedly; but in one hand\nshe held what it made Michael rejoice to see. It was a soft pink feathery\nthing, with wings, but shaped like a heart, and it trembled and quivered in\nher hand.\n\n\"Take it,\" she cried, \"for well have you won it. Take it, and tell the\nQueen how many years of toil and labour her proud words and boasting have\ncost. Then when you see her, from whom it was stolen, let it fly, but\nfirst say over it these words:--\n\n    \"Heart of Joan\n    Lost and won\n    Fly back home,\n    Thy journey's done.\n    Take back joy\n    Take back pain\n    Heart of Joan,\n    Fly home again.\"\n\nand it will fly to her side, and you will see it no more; and now begone.\"\n\nMichael seized the heart with a cry of joy and exultation, and then turned\nand fled from the room through an open iron door, and passed through the\npassages, no longer softly carpeted and hung with silk, but dreary and\nbare, made of cold stone, down which his foot-steps echoed and clashed.\n\nHe hurried from the castle as quickly as might be, and once outside did not\nstop to look for the old man or the monster, but swam the moat, and went\nstraight to where his boat lay moored as he had left it, nearly seven years\nbefore, and never paused till he had rowed so far that the gray castle and\nthe shore had almost passed from view. At last he came again to the shore\nwhere he had bought his boat of the fishermen, and here he went on land,\nand started to walk till he had reached Joan's country, and her father's\ncastle.\n\nHe had no money, and his clothes were rags, his hair was thin and gray, and\nhis shoulders bent. He looked like a poor beggar, and he had to beg food as\nhe went, or he would have been starved. Still, he was ready to cry for joy,\nbecause he took with him the little soft heart he had gone so far to find.\n\nHe trudged on both day and night, making great haste, for he knew that the\nseven years were almost gone, and he was afraid lest already he might be\ntoo late, and find that Joan had married some one else. At last, after many\nweary miles, he reached her country, and drew near to the palace where she\nlived, and here he found that the people were all decorating their houses,\nand making preparations as if for some great festival.\n\nHe stopped and begged for food from a woman who stood by a cottage door,\nand when she had given him some bread, as he ate it he asked her to tell\nhim what went on in the country, and why there was such rejoicing.\n\n\"It is for the marriage of the King's daughter Joan,\" said the woman;\n\"To-morrow she is to be married to old King Lambert, and the wedding will\nbe very grand, but none of the country folk like it, for he is old and\nugly, and they say he does not love her at all, but only marries her that\nhe may be king of this country as well as his own. The Queen is in sore\ndistress about it, and for seven years refused her consent; but they will\nbe over to-morrow, and so they will be wed, and the guests are already\nbeginning to arrive at the palace, and each one brings some splendid gift.\"\n\n\"I will be a guest at that wedding,\" cried Michael; \"And I bring the best\ngift of all for the bride;\" and he hurried on again, not heeding the\nwoman's scorn and laughter.\n\nWhen he came to the palace, he found that it was hung with flags, and\narches of flowers were erected in front of it, and grand lords and ladies,\nand servants stood at the door to receive the guests who came.\n\nMichael went as near as he dared, afraid lest he should be driven away by\nthe servants, and then he saw a little foot-page, and he went to him and\nsaid,\n\n\"Please tell me where is the Princess Joan, and what she is doing.\"\n\n\"She is sitting with the King and Queen and King Lambert in the state-room,\nto receive the guests and accept the presents they bring,\" said the page.\n\n\"I am a guest, and I bring a present for her,\" cried Michael; \"Tell me how\nI shall get into the palace that I may give it to her.\"\n\nOn hearing this the page burst out laughing, and told the other servants\nwhat he said. And they were very angry, and seized Michael, and some would\nhave ducked him in the pond, and some would have taken him before the King,\nbut they said, \"Not now--wait till the wedding is over to-morrow, and then\nwe will see how he will punish the beggar-man for his impertinence.\"\n\nSo they took him off to a stone tower outside the garden gates and thrust\nhim into it, and locked the door, and there was only one little window high\nup and barred across with bars, and from it he could see the palace and the\ngardens.\n\nThen at last he gave way to despair. \"Of what avail were all my years of\ntoil, and for what am I gray and old before my time,\" he cried, \"if after\nall, when I have earned that for which I worked so long, I may not give it\nto Joan, but must remain a prisoner and see her pass by to marry some one\nelse?\" and he threw himself on the ground and cried aloud.\n\nAt night as he lay and mourned, he heard sounds of merrymaking, and music\nand laughter from the castle. Sometimes he called out, \"Joan! Joan! I am\nhere--I who have worked for you for years, and brought home your stolen\nheart, and now will you wed King Lambert in spite of all?\" sometimes he\nbeat against the bars of the prison window, but all in vain, and at last,\nwhen all sound had ceased from the castle, he lay silent upon the ground,\ncaring no more for life.\n\nWhen the sun rose, and there was again a stir without, he got up and looked\nfrom the window, and saw the old nurse who walked by herself in the garden,\nand she looked very sad. Then Michael called out, \"Do you not know me? You\nat least, who bid me go, and praised me then, should remember me now.\" On\nhearing this the old nurse drew near the prison window, and looked at him,\nand said, \"Who are you, and why are you here? My eyes are old, and my ears\nare deaf, but I think I have seen you, and heard your voice before.\"\n\n\"Seven years ago,\" said Michael, \"I too was a bridegroom, who came to wed\nyour Princess, and for seven long years have I worked, that I might bring\nhome to her the heart she had not. Go and ask your Queen, why she has\nbroken her pledge to wait for seven years, till Prince Michael should\nreturn.\"\n\n\"Prince Michael! Is it really Prince Michael?\" cried the old nurse\njoyfully. \"And you come in time, for our Princess is not married yet, and\nshe must pass by here, on her way to church. So you shall call to her as\nshe passes by, and speak for yourself.\"\n\n\"Then keep near and tell me when she comes,\" said Michael, \"lest she go by\nwithout seeing me.\"\n\nPresently the whole castle was astir, and trumpets were sounding, and\nclarions ringing. Then when the sun was high, Michael heard the tramping of\nhorses, and the sound of music, and the old nurse said to him, \"Here she\nis,\" and he looked between the bars of the prison window and saw a grand\nprocession, and his heart gave a bound, for in their midst, in a golden\ngown, and seated on a white palfrey, was Princess Joan, and she looked just\nas lovely as when he went away seven years before.\n\nOn one side of her rode her father and mother, and the Queen's face was\nmost mournful, and her eyes were red with crying. On the other rode an ugly\nold man, whom Michael guessed to be King Lambert, and he smiled and bowed\nto the people, but they muttered and grumbled, when they looked at him,\nand saw how ugly and wicked, he looked.\n\nWhen Michael saw them coming, he took from his bosom the little pink heart,\nand stroked it fondly as he whispered over it,\n\n    \"Heart of Joan\n    Lost and won\n    Fly back home,\n    Thy journey's done.\n    Take back joy\n    Take back pain\n    Heart of Joan,\n    Fly home again;\"\n\nand at once it spread its wings and fluttered through the bars of the\nprison, and over the heads of the people, who shouted, \"Look at the pink\nbird!\" For a moment it rested at the side of the Princess Joan, and then\ndisappeared. She gave a scream, and cried,\n\n\"My mother! My father! What has happened? Oh see, it is Michael who has\nreturned!\" and ere they could stop her she had turned her palfrey's head\ntowards the prison window, and pushed her white arms through the bars to\nclasp the Prince.\n\n[Illustration: ----and ere they could stop her she had turned her palfrey's\nhead towards the prison window, and pushed her white arms through the bars\nto clasp the Prince.\"--P. 128.]\n\n\"Michael, my love!\" she cried, \"How gray and worn you are now. How hard you\nmust have laboured for me through these long years. Now, how shall I pay\nyou, save by loving you all my life!\" and she tried to beat down the bars\nof the prison window.\n\nWhen the people heard her, they cried, \"It is Prince Michael, who went\nseven years ago, and who we all thought was dead, and he is returned in\ntime to marry our Princess. Now will we indeed have a wedding, and she\nshall marry the Prince who has toiled so long for her;\" and King and Queen\nand people laughed for joy. 'Twas in vain for King Lambert to rage, and cry\nthat the Princess was betrothed to him.\n\n\"Nay!\" said the Queen, \"She has been pledged to Prince Michael for seven\nyears. We are grieved for your sake, King Lambert, but we cannot break our\nroyal word.\"\n\nThen the people burst into the prison and brought out Michael, all torn and\ngray as he was, and Princess Joan kissed him before them all, and begged\nthat he would marry her at once, that every one might see how well she\nloved him and how grateful she was. So they brought a fine white horse with\na grand gold saddle, and jewelled bridle, and placed Michael upon it, and\nhe rode to church beside the Princess, and married her, and the people\nthrew flowers before them, and bells rang and trumpets sounded, and all\nwere glad.\n\nAnd when it was done Michael was dressed in purple and gold, and messengers\nwere sent to his father and mother and the old wizard, that they might come\nand see how he had come home victorious, and rejoicings filled the whole\ncountry.\n\n\"For now we are sure of a good King,\" the people said. \"See, he has already\nshown what he can do. Surely no one else could ever have found the heart of\nPrincess Joan.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: \"Good-day, friend,\" said he. \"If you have nothing to do,\nperhaps you would not mind carrying my load for me for a little.\"--P.\n131.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE PEDLAR'S PACK\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nA pedlar was toiling along a dusty road carrying his pack on his back, when\nhe saw a donkey grazing by the wayside.\n\n\"Good-day, friend,\" said he. \"If you have nothing to do, perhaps you would\nnot mind carrying my load for me for a little.\"\n\n\"If I do so, what will you give me?\" said the donkey.\n\n\"I will give you two pieces of gold,\" said the pedlar, but he did not speak\nthe truth, for he knew he had no gold to give.\n\n\"Agreed,\" said the donkey. So they journeyed on together in a very\nfriendly manner, the donkey carrying the pedlar's pack, and the pedlar\nwalking by his side. After a time they met a raven, who was looking for\nworms in the roadside, and the donkey called out to him,\n\n\"Good-morrow, black friend. If you are going our way, you would do well to\nsit upon my back and drive away the flies, which worry me sadly.\"\n\n\"And what will you pay me to do this?\" asked the raven.\n\n\"Money is no object to me,\" said the donkey, \"so I will give you three\npieces of gold.\" And he too knew he was making a false promise, for he had\nno gold at all to give.\n\n\"Agreed,\" said the raven. So they went on in high good humour, the donkey\ncarrying the pedlar's wares, and the raven sitting on the donkey's back\ndriving away the flies.\n\nAfter a time they met a hedge-sparrow, and the raven called out to it,\n\n\"Good-day, little cousin. Do you want to earn a little money? If so, bring\nme some worms from the bank as we go along, for I had no breakfast, and am\nvery hungry.\"\n\n\"What will you give me for it?\" asked the hedge-sparrow.\n\n\"Let us say four pieces of gold,\" said the raven grandly; \"for I have saved\nmore during my long life than I know how to spend.\" But he knew this was\nnot true, for he had not saved any gold at all.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the hedge-sparrow, and so on they went, the donkey\ncarrying the pedlar's pack, and the raven keeping the flies away from the\ndonkey, and the hedge-sparrow bringing worms to the raven.\n\nPresently they saw in the distance a good-sized town, and the pedlar took\nout from his pack, some shawls and stuffs and hung them over the donkey's\nback that the passers-by might see, and buy if they were so disposed. On\nthe top of the other goods lay a small scarlet blanket, and when he saw it\nthe hedge-sparrow said to the pedlar,\n\n\"What will you take for that little blanket? It seems to be a good one.\nName your price and you shall have it whatever it is, for I am badly in\nwant of a blanket just now;\" but as the hedge-sparrow had not a penny in\nthe world, he knew he could not pay for it.\n\n\"The price of the blanket is five pieces of gold,\" said the pedlar.\n\n\"That seems to me to be very dear,\" said the hedge-sparrow. \"I don't mind\ngiving you four pieces of gold for it, but five is too much.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" said the pedlar, and he chuckled to himself and thought, \"Now I\nshall be able to pay the donkey, otherwise I might have had some trouble in\ngetting rid of him.\"\n\nThe hedge-sparrow flew to the raven's side and whispered in his ear,\n\"Please to pay me the four pieces of gold you owe me, for we are coming to\na town, and I must be turning back.\"\n\n\"Four pieces of gold is really too much for bringing a few worms,\" said the\nraven. \"It is absurd to expect such payment, but I will give you three, and\nyou shall have them almost immediately,\" and he bent down over the donkey's\near and whispered,\n\n\"My friend, it is time you paid me the three pieces of gold which you\npromised, for the pedlar will stop at this town, and you will not have to\ngo farther with him.\"\n\n\"On thinking it over,\" said the donkey, \"I have come to the conclusion that\nthree pieces of gold are really a great deal too much to give for having a\nfew flies driven away. You must have known that I was only joking when I\nsaid it, but I will let you have two, though I consider that it is much\nmore than the job was worth;\" and the donkey turned again to the pedlar,\nsaying, \"Now, good sir, your two pieces of gold, if you please.\"\n\n\"In a moment,\" said the pedlar, and turning to the hedge-sparrow, said, \"I\nreally must have the money for the blanket at once.\"\n\n\"So you shall,\" answered the hedge-sparrow, and cried angrily to the raven,\n\"I want my money now, and cannot wait.\"\n\n\"In an instant,\" answered the raven, and again whispered to the donkey,\n\"Why can't you pay me honestly? I should be ashamed of trying to slip out\nof my debts in such a way.\"\n\n\"I won't keep you waiting a second,\" said the donkey, and he turned once\nmore to the pedlar and cried, \"Come, give me my money. For shame! a man\nlike you trying to cheat a poor beast like me.\"\n\nThen the pedlar said to the hedge-sparrow, \"Pay me for my blanket, or I'll\nwring your neck.\"\n\nAnd the hedge-sparrow cried to the raven, \"Give me my money or I'll peck\nout your eyes.\"\n\nAnd the raven croaked to the donkey, \"If you don't pay me, I'll bite off\nyour tail.\"\n\nAnd the donkey again cried to the pedlar, \"You dishonest wretch, pay me my\nmoney or I'll kick you soundly.\"\n\nAnd they made such an uproar outside the walls of the town, that the beadle\ncame out to see what it was all about. Each turned to him and began to\ncomplain of the other loudly.\n\n\"You are a set of rogues and vagabonds,\" said the beadle, \"and you shall\nall come before the mayor, and he'll settle your quarrels pretty quickly,\nand treat you as you deserve.\"\n\nAt this they all begged to be allowed to go away, each one saying he did\nnot care about being paid at all. But the beadle would not listen to them,\nand led them straight away to the market-place, where the mayor sat judging\nthe people.\n\n\"Now, whom have we here?\" cried he. \"A pedlar, a donkey, a raven, and a\nhedge-sparrow. A set of worthless vagabonds, I'll be bound! Let us hear\nwhat they have to say for themselves.\"\n\nOn this the pedlar began to complain of the hedge-sparrow, and the\nhedge-sparrow of the raven, and the raven of the donkey, and the donkey of\nthe pedlar.\n\nThe mayor did not heed them much, but he eyed the pedlar's pack, and at\nlength interrupted them, and said,\n\n\"I am convinced that you are a set of good-for-nothing fellows, and one is\nquite as bad as the other, so I order that the pedlar be locked up in the\nprison, that the donkey be soundly well thrashed, and that the raven and\nthe hedge-sparrow both have their tail-feathers pulled out, and then be\nturned out of the town. As for the blanket, it seems to me to be the only\ngood thing in the whole matter, and as I cannot allow you to keep the cause\nof such a disturbance, I will take it for myself. Beadle, lead the\nprisoners away.\"\n\nSo the beadle did as he was told, and the pedlar was locked up for many\ndays in the prison.\n\n\"It is very sad to think to what straits an honest man may be brought,\" he\nsighed to himself as he sat lamenting his hard fate. \"In future this will\nbe a warning to me to keep clear of hedge-sparrows. If the hedge-sparrow\nhad paid me as he ought, I should not be here now.\"\n\nMeantime the donkey was being soundly well thrashed, and after each blow he\ncried,\n\n\"Alas! alas! See what comes to an innocent quadruped for having to do with\nhuman beings. Had the pedlar given me the money he owed, I should not now\nbe beaten thus. In future I will never make a bargain with men.\"\n\nThe raven and the hedge-sparrow hopped out of the town by different roads,\nand both were very sad, for they had lost all their tail feathers, which\nthe beadle had pulled out.\n\n\"Alas!\" croaked the raven, \"my fate is indeed a hard one. But it serves me\nright for trusting a donkey who goes on his feet and cannot fly. It is\ntruly a warning to me never again to trust anything without a beak.\"\n\nThe hedge-sparrow was quite crestfallen, and could scarcely keep from\ntears. \"It all comes of my being so taken in by that raven,\" he sighed.\n\"But I should have known that these large birds are never honest. In future\nI will be wise, and never make a bargain with anything bigger or stronger\nthan myself.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE BREAD OF DISCONTENT\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nOnce there was a baker who had a very bad, violent temper, and whenever a\nbatch of bread was spoiled he flew into such a rage, that his wife and\ndaughters dared not go near him. One day it happened that all his bread was\nburnt, and on this he stamped and raved with anger. He threw the loaves all\nabout the floor, when one, burnt blacker than the rest, broke in half, and\nout of it crept a tiny thin black man, no thicker than an eel, with long\narms and legs.\n\n\"What are you making all this fuss about, Master Baker?\" said he. \"If you\nwill give me a home in your oven I will see to the baking of your bread,\nand will answer for it that you shall never have so much as a loaf\nspoiled.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"If you will give me a home in your oven I will see to the\nbaking of your bread, and will answer for it that you shall never have so\nmuch as a loaf spoiled.\"--P. 141.]\n\n\"And pray what sort of bread would it be, if you were in the oven, and\nhelped to bake it?\" said the baker; \"I think my customers might not like to\neat it.\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" said the imp, \"they would like it exceedingly. It is\ntrue that it would make them rather unhappy, but that will not hurt you, as\nyou need not eat it yourself.\"\n\n\"Why should it make them unhappy?\" said the baker. \"If it is good bread it\nwon't do any one harm, and if it is bad they won't buy it.\"\n\n\"It will taste very good,\" replied the imp, \"but it will make all who eat\nit discontented, and they will think themselves very unfortunate whether\nthey are so or no; but this will not do you any harm, and I promise you\nthat you shall sell as much as you wish.\"\n\n\"Agreed!\" said the baker. So the little imp crept into the oven and curled\nhimself into the darkness behind, and the baker saw no more of him.\n\nBut next day he made a great batch of bread, and though he took no heed of\nthe time when he put it in, and drew it out, just as he wanted it, it was\ndone quite right--neither too dark nor too light--and the baker was in high\ngood humour.\n\nThe first person who tasted the bread was the chief justice. He came down\nto breakfast in high spirits, for he had just heard that an old aunt was\ndead, and had left him a great deal of money. So he kissed his wife and\nchucked his daughters under the chin, and told them that he had good news\nfor them. His old aunt had left him twenty thousand pounds in her will. On\nthis his wife clapped her hands for joy, and his daughters ran to him and\nkissed him, and begged him to let them have some of it. So they all sat\ndown to breakfast in great glee, but no sooner had the justice tasted the\nbread than his face fell.\n\n\"This is excellent bread,\" he said, taking a large slice; \"I wish\neverything else were as good;\" and he heaved a deep sigh.\n\n\"Why?\" cried his wife, who had not yet begun to eat. \"This morning, I am\nsure, there is nothing for you to complain of.\"\n\n\"Nay!\" said the mayor; \"it is very nice to have twenty thousand pounds, but\nthink how much nicer it would have been if it had been thirty. How much\nmore one could have done with that! Or even if it had been twenty-five\nthousand pounds, or even twenty-one. Twenty-one thousand pounds is a very\nnice sum of money, but twenty thousand pounds is no good at all. I am not\nsure that it would not be better not to have had any.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" cried his wife, who was now eating her breakfast also; \"you are\nvery wicked to be so discontented; but one thing I do say. It would have\nbeen much nicer if we had had it when we were young and better able to\nenjoy it. Money is very little use to people at our time of life. It would\nhave been really nice if we had had it fifteen years ago. As it is, I can't\nsay I care much for it, and it makes me sad to think we did not get it\nbefore.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" cried the daughters; \"in that case how much better it would have\nbeen for us to have it instead of you; we are young, and able to enjoy\nourselves, and we could have given you a little of it if you'd liked, but\nwe could have been very happy with the rest; as it is, it is no pleasure to\nus.\"\n\nSo they fell to quarrelling about the money, and by the time breakfast was\ndone, they all had tears in their eyes, and felt discontented and unhappy.\n\nThe next person to eat the bread was the village doctor. All night long he\nhad been sitting up with a man who had broken his leg, and he had feared\nlest he should die, but as morning came he saw he would live, so he\nreturned home to his wife in very good spirits, although he was sadly\ntired. The wife had already had her breakfast, but she had made all ready\nfor her husband, with a loaf of the baker's new bread.\n\n\"See, dear husband,\" she said, \"here is your breakfast, and some nice bread\nquite new, because I know you like it. How glad we ought to be, that this\npoor man is likely to live.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" said the doctor; \"being up all night is tiring work, but I\ndon't grudge it when I know that it does some good,\" and then he began to\neat. \"I am not sure, after all, that I have done such a good thing in\ncuring this man. It is true that his broken leg hurt him very much, but\nperhaps when he is well again, he may break his back, and that would be\nmuch worse. Perhaps I had better have left him to die. I daresay when he is\nquite well, all kinds of misfortunes will befall him; I had much better\nhave let him alone.\"\n\n\"Why,\" cried his wife in surprise, \"what are you saying, husband? Are you\nnot a doctor, and is it not your business to cure people? And when you\nsucceed ought you not to be glad?\"\n\n\"I wish I were not a doctor,\" said the husband, sighing. \"It would be much\nbetter if there were no doctors at all;\" and he sat and lamented, and\nnothing his wife could say, could cheer him.\n\nIn a pretty little cottage near the doctor's house lived a young couple,\nwho were newly married, and were as happy as the day was long. Their\ncottage was covered with roses, and filled with pretty things, and they\nhad everything their hearts could desire. This morning they both came down\nsmiling and happy, and the young wife kissed her husband, and sang for joy.\nSo they sat down to breakfast, chattering like two birds in a nest; but no\nsooner had the husband tasted the bread than his face fell, and he was\nsilent for a time; then he said,\n\n\"It is a very terrible thing to think how happy we are, for it cannot last.\nSomething melancholy is sure to happen to us, and till it comes we shall\nlive in dread of it; for we know happiness never lasts, and this is a\nthought that makes me very sad.\"\n\nThe wife had now also taken some bread.\n\n\"What is this you are saying?\" she said. \"How can you think such dreadful\nthings? I do not like you when you talk like that; and I think it is very\nhard for me to be married to a man who wants to be unhappy.\"\n\n\"The best thing we can hope for,\" said the husband, sighing, \"is for some\ngreat misfortune to befall us; then we should be all right, for we should\nknow then, that we knew the worst that could come. As it is we shall live\nin suspense all our days.\"\n\n\"Now,\" cried his wife, \"I am indeed unfortunate. What could be worse than\nto have a husband who does not like being happy? I wish I had married some\none else; or indeed had no husband at all.\"\n\nSo both began to grumble, and at last to quarrel, and finally both were\ncrying with anger.\n\nNot far out of the village was a large pleasant farmhouse, standing amongst\nfields, and the farmer was a hale, bright man, with a good wife and pretty\nchildren. He was very busy just now getting in the corn, for it was autumn,\nand he stood among his men, directing them as they worked in the fields. He\nhad not had time to have a proper breakfast before going to work, but his\nwife sent some out to him with some of the baker's new bread, and he sat\ndown under a tree to eat it. As he did so he looked up at the farmhouse,\nand thought, with pride, that it was the largest farm in all the country\nround, and that it had belonged to his father, and his grandfather, and\nhis great-grandfather, before him.\n\n\"'Tis a fine old house, for sure,\" thought he, as he took a large piece of\nbread, \"'Tis so well built and strong;\" but no sooner had he swallowed a\nmouthful than his thoughts changed.\n\n\"What should I do if it were to fall down and crush me some day,\" he said\nto himself. \"After all, 'tis only built of brick, and might tumble any day.\nHow much stronger it would have been if it had been built of stone. Then it\nwould not have been nearly so likely to give way. Really when my\ngreat-grandfather built it he should have thought of this. How selfish all\nmen are;\" and he became quite unhappy lest his house should fall, and\nlamented while he ate.\n\nIn the kitchen the farmer's wife was very busy cooking and cleaning, and\nscarcely stopped to eat till near mid-day. Then she took up a piece of\nbread and cheese, and leant against the window as she ate it, that she\nmight watch for her eldest girl and boy, Janey and Jimmy, who would now be\nreturning from school.\n\n\"Our baker really bakes very decent bread,\" said she; \"'tis almost as good\nas my own;\" and she went on eating till she saw her two children coming\nthrough the fields together.\n\n\"Here they come,\" said she; \"How bonny they look. Really I ought to be very\nproud of them. I don't know which is the prettier, Janey or Jimmy, but 'tis\na pity, for sure, that Janey is the eldest. It would be much better if\nJimmy were older than she. 'Tis a bad thing for the sister to be older than\nthe brother. Now, if he were her age, and she were his, that would be\nreally nice, for then he could take care of her and see after her; but, as\nit is, she will try to direct him, and boys never like to obey their\nsisters; I really almost think I had better not have had any children at\nall,\" and the tears filled her eyes, and when her girl and boy ran in to\nher, her face was very sad, and she seemed to be scarcely glad to see them.\n\nSo things went on all over the village. Each one as he tasted the bread\ngrew discontented and angry, till at last all the people went about\ngrumbling and complaining, or else shedding tears outright. Only the baker\nhimself was cheerful and merry, and sang as he kneaded his dough, and sold\nit to his customers with a light heart, for his trade had never been so\ngood. Every atom of bread he made was sold at once, so he cared not one\nwhit for the trouble of the other people, and laughed to himself when he\nheard them complaining, and thought of the words of the dark little elf.\n\nOne day as he stood kneading at the door and whistling to himself, the\ndoctor walked past and looked angrily at him.\n\n\"What on earth are you making that whistling for?\" he asked. \"I declare one\nwould think that you were as happy as a man could be.\"\n\n\"And so I am,\" said the baker, \"And so I should think were you too, for you\nhave nothing to trouble you.\"\n\n\"Nothing to trouble me, forsooth!\" cried the doctor in a rage. \"How dare\nyou insult me in this way? I tell you what it is, my fine fellow, I think\nyou are very impertinent, and if I have any more of your impudence I will\ntake my stick and thrash you soundly. It really is not to be borne, that\none man should be allowed to tell another that he has nothing to complain\nof.\"\n\n\"Nay, _you_ can have as much to complain of as you like, so long as I have\nnot,\" cried the baker, and he laughed loudly. This only made the doctor\nangrier still, and he was just going to seize the baker when up came the\nfarmer.\n\n\"Was there ever such a village as this?\" he cried. \"It is not fit for any\none to live in, there is always such fighting and quarrelling going on.\nWhat is the matter here?\"\n\n\"Matter enough,\" cried the doctor. \"Here is a fellow dares to tell me I\nhave nothing to complain of, nor he either.\"\n\n\"This is monstrous!\" said the farmer; \"he deserves to be hung. How dares he\nsay such a thing on such a wretched day as this, with such a blue sky and\nsuch a bright sun?\"\n\n\"Why, Master Farmer,\" cried the baker, \"yesterday you grumbled because it\nwas raining, and now you grumble because it is fine.\"\n\n\"And I tell you that it is enough to make one grumble,\" said the farmer.\n\"It should have been fair yesterday, and should have rained to-day. You\nought to be ashamed of such talk, Master Baker, and I think it would serve\nyou justly right if we took you before the Justice and let us see what he\nthinks of your conduct.\"\n\n\"Nay!\" cried the baker, beginning to be frightened, \"what have I done that\nI am to be taken before the Justice?\"\n\n\"What have you done, indeed!\" said the doctor. \"We will see if the Justice\ncannot find that out pretty quickly.\" So they seized the baker and dragged\nhim away in spite of himself, and as they pulled him through the village\nthe people thronged about them, and followed till there was quite a large\ncrowd.\n\nThe Justice sat at his door smoking a pipe, with tears in his eyes.\n\n\"Now what is all this uproar for?\" cried he. \"Am I never to be left in\npeace? How hard is the life of a Justice!\" but he got up and came out on\nthe steps to meet them.\n\n\"See here,\" cried the doctor; \"here is a man who says he has nothing to\ncomplain of, and we have brought him to you, to know if he is to be\npunished, or to be allowed to go on talking like this.\"\n\n\"Certainly not,\" cried the Justice, \"or we shall soon have the whole\nvillage in an uproar. Let him be taken to the market-place, and I will\norder that he be publicly flogged by the soldiers.\"\n\nAt this the poor baker burst out crying, and entreated to be let off,\nsaying that now indeed he had plenty to complain of, but at this the\njustice was angrier still. \"Then,\" said he, \"you certainly deserve to be\nflogged for having told an untruth before, when you said you had not. Take\nhim away, and do as I bid.\"\n\nSo they dragged the baker off to the market-place, and made a ring round\nhim, so that he could not escape, and then there came down two or three\nsoldiers with ropes in their hands, and they seized him, and began to beat\nhim before all the crowd.\n\nBut by this time all the people were so enraged against him, that a number\nof them cried, \"Let us go to his house and pull it down.\" So off they ran\nto the baker's house, and broke the windows and knocked about the\nfurniture, and then some of them fell on the oven, and wrenched off the\ndoor, and others seized the pokers and tongs, and smashed in its sides, and\nin the hurry and scuffle, the little dark man crept out of the oven and\nscuttled away unseen by any one. But no sooner had he gone than a great\nchange came across the people.\n\nThe soldiers on the green stopped beating the baker, and looked at each\nother aghast, and the Justice called out,\n\n\"Stop! What is all this uproar about? And what has this man done that you\nare beating him without my orders?\" and the people in the crowd whispered\nto each other; \"It is true,--what has he done?\" and they slunk away,\nlooking ashamed.\n\nThe Justice also at first looked somewhat ashamed of himself, but he drew\nhimself up, and looking very important, said, \"There, my man, you are\nforgiven for this once, and now go your way, and see that you behave better\nin future;\" and then he walked away with much dignity.\n\nSo the baker was left alone in the market-place, and he cried for rage and\npain.\n\n\"This all comes of the oven imp,\" cried he, as he limped home. \"Directly I\nget home I will drive him out of my oven, and away from my house. Better to\nhave a hundred batches of bread spoiled than to be flogged for saying one\nis happy.\" But when he reached his house the little dark man was nowhere to\nbe found; there was nought but the broken oven with its sides battered in.\n\nThe baker mended the oven, and from that time forth his bread was just like\nother people's; but for all that he had learnt to be quite contented, for\nnow he knew that there were worse things than having his loaves burnt\nblack, and he was only too well pleased to take his chance with other\npeople, without the help of fairy folk. As for the little black imp, he was\nnever heard of more, and the people in the village soon recovered their\ngood humour, and were just as happy and contented as they had been before\nthey tasted the bread of discontent.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nYE THREE CLEVER KINGS\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nOld King Roland lay upon his death-bed, and as he had no son to reign after\nhim he sent for his three nephews, Aldovrand, Aldebert, and Alderete, and\naddressed them as follows:--\n\n\"My dear nephews, I feel that my days are now drawing to an end, and one of\nyou will have to be King when I am dead. But there is no pleasure in being\nKing. My people have been difficult to govern and never content with what I\ndid for them, so that my life has been a hard one, and though I have\nwatched you all closely, still I know not, which is most fit to wear the\ncrown; so my wish is that you should each try it in turn. You, Aldovrand,\nas you are the oldest, shall be King first, and if you reign happily, all\nwell and good; but if you fail, let Aldebert take your place; and if he\nfail, let him give it up to Alderete, and then you will know which is the\nbest fitted to govern.\"\n\nOn this the three young men all thanked their uncle, and each one declared\nthat he would do his best, and soon after old King Roland died and was\nburied with great state and ceremony.\n\nSo now Aldovrand was to be King, and he was crowned, and there were great\nrejoicings everywhere.\n\n\"'Tis a fine thing to be King,\" cried he in much glee; \"Now I can amuse\nmyself and do just as I please, and there will be no one to stop me, and I\nwill lie in bed as late as I like in the morning, for who dares blame one,\nif one is King?\"\n\nNext morning the Prime Minister and the Chancellor came to the palace to\nsee the new King and settle affairs of state, but they were told that his\nmajesty was in bed and had given orders that no one should disturb him.\n\n\"This is a bad beginning,\" sighed the Prime Minister.\n\n\"Very bad,\" echoed the Chancellor.\n\nWhen they came back to the palace later in the day the King was playing at\nbattledore and shuttlecock with some of his gentlemen, and was very angry\nat being interrupted in his game.\n\n\"A pretty thing,\" he cried, \"That I the King am to be sent for hither and\nthither as if I were a lacquey. They must go away and come another time;\"\nand on hearing this the Prime Minister and Chancellor looked graver still.\n\nBut next morning there came the Commander-in-Chief and the Lord High\nAdmiral, as well as the Prime Minister and the Chancellor, all wanting to\nhave an audience with the King, and as he was not out of bed and they could\nnot wait any longer, they all stood outside his bedroom door, and knocked\nto gain admittance, and at last he came out in a towering rage, and\nthrowing them his crown, cried,\n\n\"Here, let one of my cousins be King, for I will not bear this longer. It\nis much more trouble than it is worth, so Aldebert or Alderete may try it\nand see how they like it, but as for me, I have had enough of it,\" and he\nran downstairs and out of the palace door, leaving the Prime Minister and\nthe Chancellor and the General and Admiral staring at each other in dismay.\n\nAldovrand walked out of the town unnoticed, and turned towards the country,\nwhistling cheerily to himself. When he had gone some way in the fields, he\ncame to a farmhouse, and in a meadow near, the farmer stood talking to his\nmen. Aldovrand went straight up to him, and, touching his hat, asked if he\ncould give him any work.\n\n\"Work?\" cried the farmer, little thinking he was talking to his late king.\n\"Why, what sort of work can you do?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Aldovrand, \"I am not very fond of running about, but if you\nwant any one to mind your sheep, or keep the birds from your corn, I could\ndo that nicely.\"\n\n\"I tell you what you can do if you like,\" said the farmer. \"I am wanting a\ngoose-boy to take care of my geese. See, there they are on the common. All\nyou will have to do is to see that they don't stray away, and to drive them\nin at night.\"\n\n\"That will suit me exactly,\" cried Aldovrand. \"I will begin at once;\" and\nhe went straight on to the common, and when he had collected the geese\ntogether lay down to watch them in high good humour.\n\n\"This is capital,\" he cried, \"and much better than being King at the\npalace. Here there is no Prime Minister or Chancellor to come worrying;\"\nand he lay watching the geese all day very contentedly.\n\nWhen the Prime Minister and the Chancellor knew that Aldovrand was really\ngone, they went in a great hurry to Aldebert to tell him that it was his\nturn to be King. But when he heard how his cousin had run away, he looked\nfrightened.\n\n\"I will do my best,\" quoth he; \"but I really know very little about the\nmatter. However, you must tell me, and I will do whatever you direct.\"\n\nAt hearing this the Prime Minister and the Chancellor were delighted.\n\n\"Now we have got the right sort of King,\" they said; and both wagged their\nheads with joy.\n\nSo King Aldebert was crowned, and there were great rejoicings all over the\ncountry.\n\nEarly next morning he was up all ready to receive his Ministers, and first\ncame the Prime Minister.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" said he, \"I come to you on an affair of much importance. A\ngreat part of our city is falling down, and it is very necessary that we\nshould rebuild it at once. If you will command it, therefore, I will see\nthat it is done.\"\n\n\"I have no doubt you are right,\" said the King; \"pray let them begin\nbuilding at once;\" and the Prime Minister went away delighted.\n\nScarcely had he gone when in came the Commander-in-Chief.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" said he, \"I wish to lay before you the state of our army.\nOur soldiers have had a great deal of fighting to do lately, and are\nbeginning to be discontented, but the late King, your uncle, would never\nattend to their wants.\"\n\n\"Pray do what you like,\" said King Aldebert.\n\n\"To satisfy them,\" said the Commander-in-Chief, \"I think that we should\ndouble their pay. This would keep them in a good humour, and all will go\nwell.\"\n\n\"By all means, that will certainly be the best way,\" said Aldebert. \"Let it\nbe given to them at once;\" and on hearing this, the Commander-in-Chief went\naway right merrily.\n\nWhen he had gone, there came in the Chancellor with a long face.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" he said, \"I have this morning been to the treasury, and I\nfind that there is scarcely any money left. The late King, your uncle,\nspent so much in spite of all I could say, that now it is almost all gone.\nYour Majesty must now save all you can for the next year or two, and you\nought also to lower the soldiers' pay, and stop all public works.\"\n\n\"I have no doubt you are quite right,\" cried the King. \"You know best, let\nit be done as you wish.\"\n\nBut next morning in came the Prime Minister with a frowning face. \"How is\nthis, your Majesty?\" cried he. \"Just as we are beginning our buildings, the\nChancellor comes and tells us that we are not to have any money to build\nwith.\" He had not done speaking when the Commander-in-Chief burst into the\nroom unable to conceal his rage.\n\n\"Yesterday your Majesty told me that all the soldiers should have double\npay, and this morning I hear, that instead of that, their wages are to be\nlowered!\" Here he was interrupted by the Chancellor, who came running in\nlooking much excited,\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" he cried, \"did you not yesterday say we were now to begin\nsaving, and that I was not to allow any more money to be spent, and that\nthe army must do with less pay?\"\n\nAnd then all three began to quarrel among themselves. When he saw how angry\nthey were, King Aldebert took off his crown and said, \"I am sure you are\neach of you quite right; but I think I am scarcely fit to be a King. Indeed\nI think you had better find my cousin Alderete, and let him be crowned, and\nI will seek my fortune elsewhere.\" And he had slipped out of the room, and\nrun downstairs and out of the palace, before they could stop him.\n\nHe went briskly down the highroad into the country, the same way that\nAldovrand had gone.\n\nAfter he had gone some way, he met a travelling tinker who sat by the\nroadside mending tin cans, with his little fire at his side.\n\nAldebert stood watching him, and at last said, \"How cleverly you mend those\nholes! You must lead a pleasant life, going from house to house in the\ngreen lanes mending wares. Do you think I could learn how to do it if you\nwould teach me?\"\n\nThe tinker, who was an old man, looked at him and said,\n\n\"Well, I don't mind giving you a trial if you like to come with me, for I\nwant a strong young man sometimes to help me wheel my little cart, and\nI'll teach you my trade, and we'll see what you can make of it.\"\n\nSo Aldebert was delighted, and went with the tinker.\n\nWhen they knew he was really gone the Prime Minister and the Chancellor\nlooked at each other in dismay.\n\n\"This will never do,\" cried they; \"we must go at once to Prince Alderete;\nand let us hope he may do better than his cousins.\"\n\nWhen Prince Alderete heard that it was his turn to reign he jumped for joy.\n\n\"Now,\" cried he, \"at last I will show what a king should really be like. My\ncousins were neither of them any good, but they shall now see how different\nI will be.\"\n\nSo he was crowned, and again there were great rejoicings all over the\ncountry.\n\nNext day he sat in state to receive the Chancellor and Prime Minister and\nhear what they had to say.\n\n\"My friends,\" said he to them, \"a good King ought to be like a father to\nhis people, and this is what I mean to be. I mean to arrange everything\nfor them myself, and if they will only obey me, and do as I direct, they\nare sure to be both prosperous and happy.\"\n\nOn hearing this both Prime Minister and Chancellor looked anxious, and the\nChancellor said,\n\n\"I fear, your Majesty, your people will not like to be too much meddled\nwith.\" At this the King was very angry, and bid them see about their own\nbusiness, and not presume to teach him his.\n\nWhen they had gone he went to take a drive in his city, that he might see\nit and know it well; but directly he returned to the palace he sent for the\nPrime Minister, and when he had arrived, said,\n\n\"I already see much to be altered in my kingdom. I do not like the houses\nin which many of the people dwell, nor indeed the dresses they wear; but\nwhat strikes me most of all is, that wherever I go I smell a strong smell\nof pea soup. Now, nothing is so unwholesome as pea soup, and therefore it\nwould not be right in me to allow the people to go on eating it. I\ncommand, therefore, that no one shall again make, or eat pea soup, within\nmy realm on pain of death.\"\n\nAgain the Prime Minister looked very grave, and began to say,\n\n\"Your Majesty, your subjects will surely not like to be hindered from\neating and drinking what pleases them!\" But the King cried out in a rage,\n\n\"Go at once and do as I bid you.\" So the Prime Minister had to obey.\n\nEarly next morning when the King arose he heard a great hubbub under his\nwindow, and when he went to see what it was, he saw a vast mob of people\nall shouting, \"The King, the King! Where is this King who would dictate to\nus what we shall eat and drink?\"\n\nWhen he saw them he was terribly frightened, and at once sent off for the\nPrime Minister and Chancellor to come to his aid.\n\n\"Pray go and tell them to eat what they like,\" he cried when they arrived;\n\"But, do you know, I find it will not at all suit me to be King. You had\nbest try Aldovrand, or Aldebert, again;\" and, so saying, he took off his\ncrown and laid it down, and slipped away out of the palace before either\nPrime Minister or Chancellor could stop him.\n\nHe went out of the back door, and ran, and ran, and ran, till he had left\nthe town far behind, and came to the country fields and lanes--the same way\nthat his two cousins had gone; and as he went he met a sweep trudging along\ncarrying his long brooms over his shoulder.\n\n\"My friend,\" cried Alderete, stopping him, \"Of all things in the world I\nshould like to be a sweep and learn how to sweep chimneys. May I go with\nyou, and will you teach me your trade?\"\n\nThe sweep looked surprised, but said, \"Yes, Alderete could go with him if\nhe chose, and as he was now going on to the farmhouses, on the road, to\nsweep the chimneys, he could begin at once.\" So Alderete went with the\nsweep, carrying some of his brooms for him.\n\nAfter a time the people outside the palace grew quiet, when they heard that\nthe King would not interfere with them further. And when all was again\nstill, the Prime Minister and Chancellor went to seek the King, but he was\nnowhere to be found in the palace.\n\n\"This will never do,\" cried they. \"We must have a King somehow, so we had\nbest have back one of the others.\" So they started to look for Aldovrand or\nAldebert.\n\nThey sought them all over the city, and at last they came into the same\ncountry road down which the three cousins had gone, and there they saw\nAldovrand lying in a meadow watching his flock of geese.\n\n\"Good day, my friends,\" cried he when he saw them; \"And how are things\ngoing on at the palace? I hope my cousins like reigning better than I did.\nNow, here I lie peacefully all day long and watch my geese, and it is much\nnicer than being King.\"\n\nThen the Prime Minister and Chancellor told him all that had happened, and\nbegged that he would come back with them to the palace again, but at this\nAldovrand laughed outright.\n\n[Illustration: \"Now, here I lie peacefully all day long and watch my geese,\nand it is much nicer than being King.\"--P. 170.]\n\n\"No indeed!\" cried he, \"I would not be King again for any man living. You\nhad best go and seek my cousin Aldebert, and ask him. I saw him go down the\nroad with a tinker, helping him to mend his tins. So go and ask him, and\nleave me to mind my geese in peace.\"\n\nSo the Prime Minister, and the Chancellor had to seek still farther.\n\nThey trudged on and on, till at last they met Aldebert, who sat by the side\nof the road mending a tin kettle, and whistling cheerily.\n\n\"Heyday, whom have we here?\" cried he. \"The Prime Minister and the\nChancellor! And I am right glad to see you both. See how clever I have\ngrown; I am learning to be a tinker, and I mended that hole all myself.\"\n\nThen the Prime Minister and Chancellor begged him to leave his pots, and\ncome back to the palace and be King, but he fell to work again, harder than\never, and said,\n\n\"No indeed; go and ask my cousins, who are both much cleverer than I. I\nreally don't do for it at all, but I make a very good tinker, and I like\nthat much better.\"\n\n\"Then what can we do?\" cried the Prime Minister, \"for we don't know where\nAlderete has gone.\"\n\n\"I saw him go by here with a sweep a little time ago,\" said Aldebert; \"and\nhe went into that farmhouse yonder, so you had best seek him there.\"\n\nSo the Prime Minister and the Chancellor went on to the farmhouse. At the\ndoor stood the farmer's wife, but when they asked her if she had seen the\nKing go by, she stared with surprise.\n\n\"Nay,\" said she; \"no one has been here but our sweep and his apprentice. He\nis in there sweeping the chimney now.\" On hearing this, the Prime Minister\nand Chancellor at once ran into the farmhouse, and saw the old sweep\nstanding by the kitchen fire-place. \"And where is the other sweep?\" cried\nthey. \"He is gone up the chimney, and is just going to begin sweeping,\"\nsaid the old man. \"So if you want to speak to him you must shout.\" So they\nshouted and called,\n\n\"King Alderete, King Alderete!\" as loud as ever they could, but he did not\nhear. Then the Chancellor knelt in front of the grate, and put his head up\nthe chimney, and called,\n\n\"King Alderete, King Alderete! It is the Prime Minister and I, the\nChancellor, come to fetch your Majesty back to the palace.\"\n\nWhen Alderete heard him up the chimney, he trembled in every limb, but he\nreplied,\n\n\"I'm not going to come down; I don't want to be King. I am going to be a\nsweep, and I like that much better. I shan't come down till you are gone\naway, and now you had best go quickly, for I am going to begin sweeping,\nand all the soot will fall on your head,\" and then they heard the rattle of\nthe broom in the chimney, and a whole shower of soot fell on the\nChancellor's head.\n\nThe Prime Minister and the Chancellor turned back to the city very\ndisconsolately. \"We must go and look for a King elsewhere,\" they said. \"It\nis no use troubling about Aldovrand, Aldebert, and Alderete.\" So they left\nthe one to his geese, and one to his tins, and the other to sweep chimneys,\nand that was the end of the three clever Kings.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISE PRINCESS\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nOnce upon a time lived a King whose wife was dead and who had one little\ndaughter who was named Fernanda. She was very good and pretty, but when she\nwas a child she vexed all her ladies by asking them questions about\neverything she saw.\n\n\"Your Highness should not wish to know too much,\" they told her, whereat\nPrincess Fernanda threw up her little head, and said,\n\n\"I want to know everything.\"\n\nAs she grew up she had masters and mistresses to teach her, and learnt\nevery language and every science; but still she said, \"It is not enough; I\nwant to know more.\"\n\nIn a deep cave underground there lived an old Wizard who was so wise that\nhis face was well-nigh black with wrinkles, and his long white beard flowed\nto his feet. He knew all sorts of magic, and every day and night sat poring\nover his books till now there seemed to be nothing left for him to learn.\n\nOne night after every one was asleep, Princess Fernanda rose and slipped\nsoftly down the stairs and out of the palace unheard by any one, and stole\naway to the Wizard's cave.\n\nThe old man was sitting on his low stool reading out of an immense book by\na dim green light, but he raised his eyes as the Princess entered at the\nlow doorway, and looked at her. She wore a blue and silver robe, but her\nbright hair was unbound, and fell in ripples to her waist.\n\n\"Who are you, and what do you want with me?\" he asked shortly.\n\n\"I am the Princess Fernanda,\" she said, \"and I wish to be your pupil. Teach\nme all you know.\"\n\n\"Why do you wish for that?\" said the Wizard: \"you will not be better or\nhappier for it.\"\n\n\"I am not happy now,\" said the Princess sighing wearily. \"Teach me and you\nshall find me an apt pupil, and I will pay you with gold.\"\n\n\"I will not have your gold,\" said the Wizard, \"but come to me every night\nat this hour, and in three years you shall know all I do.\"\n\nSo every night the Princess went down to the Wizard's cave while all the\ncourt were sleeping. And the people wondered at her more and more, and\nsaid, \"How much she knows! How wise she is!\"\n\nWhen the three years had gone by the Wizard said to her, \"Go! I can teach\nyou no more now. You are as wise as I.\" Then the Princess thanked him and\nwent back to her father's palace.\n\nShe was very wise. She knew the languages of all animals. The fishes came\nfrom the deep at her call, and the birds from the trees. She could tell\nwhen the winds would rise, and when the sea would be still. She could have\nturned her enemies to stone, or given untold wealth to her friends. But\nfor all that, when she smiled, her lips were very sad, and her eyes were\nalways full of care. She said she was weary, and her father thought she was\nsick, and would have sent for the physicians, but she stopped him.\n\n\"How should physicians help me, my father,\" she said, \"seeing that I know\nmore than they?\"\n\nOne night, a year after she had taken her last lesson from the Wizard, she\narose and returned to his cave, and he raised his eyes and saw her standing\nbefore him as formerly.\n\n\"What do you want?\" he said. \"I have taught you all I know.\"\n\n\"You have taught me much,\" she said, falling on her knees beside him, \"yet\nI am ignorant of one thing--teach me that also--_how to be happy_.'\n\n\"Nay,\" said the Wizard with a very mournful smile; \"I cannot teach you\nthat, for I do not know it myself. Go and ask it of them who know and are\nwiser than I.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Then the Princess left the cave and wandered down to the\nsea-shore.\"--P. 178.]\n\nThen the Princess left the cave and wandered down to the sea-shore. All\nthat night she spent sitting on a rock that jutted out into the sea,\nwatching the wild sky and the moon coming and going behind the clouds. The\nsea dashed up around her, and the wind blew, but she did not fear them, and\nwhen the sun rose the waters were still and the wind fell. A skylark rose\nfrom the fields and flew straight up to heaven, singing as though his heart\nwould burst with pure joy.\n\n\"Surely that bird is happy,\" said the Princess to herself; and she called\nit in its own tongue.\n\n\"Why do you sing?\" she asked.\n\n\"I sing because I am so happy,\" answered the lark.\n\n\"And why are you so happy?\" asked the Princess.\n\n\"So happy?\" said the lark. \"God is so good. The sky is so blue, and the\nfields are so green. Is that not enough to make me happy?\"\n\n\"Teach me, then, that I may be happy too,\" said Princess Fernanda.\n\n\"I cannot,\" said the lark; \"I don't know how to teach;\" and then he rose,\nsinging, into the blue overhead, and Princess Fernanda sighed and turned\nback towards the palace.\n\nOutside her door she met her little lap-dog, who barked and jumped for joy\non seeing her.\n\n\"Little dog,\" she said; \"poor little dog, are you so glad to see me? Why\nare you so happy?\"\n\n\"Why am I so happy?\" said the little dog, surprised. \"I have plenty to eat,\nand a soft cushion to rest upon, and you to caress me. Is not it enough to\nmake me happy?\"\n\n\"It is not enough for me,\" said the Princess, sighing; but the little dog\nonly wagged his tail and licked her hand.\n\nInside her room was the Princess's favourite little maid Doris, folding up\nher dresses.\n\n\"Doris,\" she said, \"you look very merry. Why are you so happy?\"\n\n\"Please your Royal Highness, I am going to the fair,\" answered Doris, \"and\nLuke is to meet me there; only,\" she added, pouting a little, \"I wish I had\na pretty new hat to wear with my new dress.\"\n\n\"Then you are not perfectly happy, so you cannot teach me,\" said Princess\nFernanda, and then she sighed again.\n\nIn the evening at sunset she arose, and went out into the village, and at\nthe door of the first cottage to which she came, sat a woman nursing a\nbaby, and hushing it to sleep. The baby was fat and rosy, and the mother\nlooked down at it proudly.\n\nThe Princess stopped, and spoke to her.\n\n\"You have a fine little child there,\" she said. \"Surely you must be very\nhappy.\"\n\nThe woman smiled.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"so I am; only just now my goodman is out fishing, and as\nhe's rather late, it makes me anxious.\"\n\n\"Then you could not teach me,\" said the Princess, sighing to herself as she\nmoved away. She wandered on till she came to a church, which she entered.\nAll was still within, for the church was empty; but before the altar, on a\nsplendid bier, lay the body of a young man, who had been killed in the war.\nHe was dressed in his gay uniform, and his breast was covered with medals,\nand his sword lay beside him. He was shot through the heart, but his face\nwas peaceful and his lips were smiling. The Princess walked to his side,\nand looked at the quiet face. Then she stooped and kissed the cold\nforehead, and envied the soldier. \"If he could speak,\" she said, \"he surely\ncould teach me. No living mouth could ever smile like that.\" Then she\nlooked up and saw a white angel standing on the other side of the bier, and\nshe knew it was Death.\n\n\"You have taught him,\" she said, holding out her arms. \"Will you not teach\nme to smile like that?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Death, pointing to the medals on the dead man's breast, \"I\ntaught him whilst he was doing his duty. I cannot teach you.\" And so saying\nhe vanished from her sight.\n\nShe went out from the church down to the sea-shore. There was a high sea,\nand a great wind, a little child had been playing on a row of rocks, and\nhad slipped off them into the water, and was struggling among the waves,\nand would soon be drowned, for he was beyond his depth in the water.\n\nWhen the Princess saw him, she plunged into the water and swam to where the\nchild was, and taking him in her arms, placed him safely on the rocks\nagain, but the waves were so strong that she could scarcely keep above\nthem. As she tried to seize the rocks, she saw Death coming over the water\ntowards her, and she turned to meet him gladly.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, clasping her in his arms, \"I will teach you all you want to\nknow;\" and he drew her under the water, and she died.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Kings servants found her lying on the shore, with her face white and\nher lips cold, but smiling as they had never smiled before, and her face\nwas very calm. They carried her home, and she was laid out in great state,\ncovered with gold and silver.\n\n\"She was so wise,\" sobbed her little maid, as she placed flowers in the\ncold hand, \"she knew everything.\"\n\n\"Not everything,\" said the skylark from the window; \"for she asked me,\nignorant though I am, to teach her how to be happy.\"\n\n\"That was the one thing I could not teach her,\" said the old Wizard,\nlooking at the dead Princess's face. \"Yet I think now she must be wiser\nthan I, and have learned that too. For see how she smiles.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.","title":"The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde, and Other Stories","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":34647}