{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_53771/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_53771","id":"gutenberg_53771","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53771","summary":null,"tags":["Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction","Category: French Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Dwarfs -- Juvenile fiction","Fairy tales","Folklore -- France","Kings and rulers -- Juvenile fiction","Magic -- Juvenile fiction","Nobel Prizes in Literature","Princesses -- Juvenile fiction","Tailors -- Juvenile fiction","Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction","Wit and humor, Juvenile"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines.\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Anatole France]\n\n\n\n\n                                 *BEE:*\n\n                             *THE PRINCESS\n                                 OF THE\n                                DWARFS*\n\n\n                          *BY ANATOLE FRANCE*\n\n\n\n                                  DONE\n                            INTO ENGLISH BY\n                              PETER WRIGHT\n\n\n\n                   NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY\n                J. M. DENT & SONS LTD - LONDON & TORONTO\n                                  1920\n\n\n\n                       [Illustration: Title page]\n\n\n\n\n                        SOLE AGENT FOR SCOTLAND\n                     THE GRANT EDUCATIONAL CO. LTD.\n                                GLASGOW\n\n\n\n                         _All rights reserved_\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Contents headpiece]\n\n\n                               *Contents*\n\nChap.\n\nI. Tells of the News that a White Rose brings to the Countess of the\nWhite Moor\n\nII. How the Loves of Bee of the Clarides and George of the White Moor\nbegan\n\nIII. Which deals with Education in General, and that of George in\nParticular\n\nIV. Tells how the Duchess took Bee and George to the Hermitage and of\nTheir Meeting an Hideous Old Woman there\n\nV. Is concerned with what you see from the Keep of the Clarides\n\nVI. Tells how Bee and George went off to the Lake\n\nVII. Shows the Penalty George of the White Moor paid for having gone\nnear to the Lake where live the Sylphs\n\nVIII. Shows how Bee was taken to the Land of the Dwarfs\n\nIX. Tells faithfully the Welcome given by King Loc to Bee of the\nClarides\n\nX. In which the Wonders of the Kingdom of the Dwarfs are thoroughly\ndescribed, as well as the Dolls which were given to Bee\n\nXI. In which the Treasure of King Loc is described as well as possible\n\nXII. In which King Loc proposes\n\nXIII. Tells how Bee saw her Mother and could not kiss Her\n\nXIV. In which the Great Grief that overtook King Loc is seen\n\nXV. Relates the Words of the Learned Nur which gave an Extraordinary\nPleasure to little King Loc\n\nXVI. Tells the Marvellous Adventure of George of the White Moor\n\nXVII. In which King Loc makes a Terrible Journey\n\nXVIII. Tells the Marvellous Meeting that occurred to John, the Master\nTailor, and of the Good Song sung by the Birds of the Grove to the\nDuchess\n\nXIX. Tells of a little Satin Slipper\n\nXX. In which a Dangerous Adventure is related\n\nXXI. In which All ends well\n\n\nLooking backward\n\nThe Sorrow of Demeter.  By Sir G. W. Cox\n\nThe King of the Golden Mountain.  By the Brothers Grimm\n\nPersephone.  By Jean Ingelow\n\nThe Writer of the Story of Bee\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Princess Bee]\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Chapter I headpiece]\n\n\n\n\n                                 *BEE*\n\n                        *PRINCESS OF THE DWARFS*\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER I*\n\n              *TELLS OF THE NEWS THAT A WHITE ROSE BRINGS\n                   TO THE COUNTESS OF THE WHITE MOOR*\n\n\nSetting on her golden hair a hood spread with pearls and tying round her\nwaist the widow's girdle, the Countess of the White Moor entered the\nchapel where she prayed each day for the soul of her husband, killed by\nan Irish giant in single combat.\n\nThat day she saw, on the cushion of her praying-stool, a white rose.  At\nthe sight of it she turned pale and her eyes grew dim; she threw her\nhead back and wrung her hands.  For she knew that when a Countess of the\nWhite Moor must die she finds a white rose on her stool.\n\nKnowing that the time had come for her to leave this world, where she\nhad been within such a short space of time a wife, a mother, and a\nwidow, she went to her room, where slept her son George, guarded by\nwaiting women.  He was three years old; his long eyelashes threw a\npretty shade on his cheeks, and his mouth was like a flower.  Seeing how\nsmall he was and how young, she began to cry.\n\n\"My little boy,\" she said in a faint voice, \"my dear little boy, you\nwill never have known me, and I shall never again see myself in your\nsweet eyes.  Yet I nursed you myself, so as to be really your mother,\nand I have refused to marry the greatest knights for your sake.\"\n\nShe kissed a locket in which was a portrait of herself and a lock of her\nhair, and put it round her son's neck. Then a mother's tear fell on his\ncheek, and he began to move in his cradle and rub his eyes with his\nlittle fists.  But the Countess turned her head away and fled from the\nroom.  Her own eyes were soon to close for ever; how could they bear to\nlook into those two adorable eyes where the light of understanding had\njust begun to dawn?\n\nShe had a horse saddled and rode to the castle of the Clarides, followed\nby her squire, Freeheart.\n\nThe Duchess of the Clarides kissed the Countess of the White Moor:\n\n\"What good chance has brought you here, my dear?\"\n\n\"It is an evil chance that has brought me; listen, dearest.  We were\nmarried within a few years of each other, and we became widows by a\nsimilar misfortune.  In these times of chivalry the best die soonest,\nand only monks live long. When you became a mother I had already been\none for two years.  Your daughter Bee is as beautiful as day, and\nnothing can be said against my son George.  I like you and you like me.\nFor I must tell you I have found a white rose on the cushion of my\nstool.  I am going to die.  I leave my son to you.\"\n\nThe Duchess was aware of the news that the white rose brings to the\nladies of the House of White Moor.  She began to cry, and promised in\nher tears to bring up Bee and George as sister and brother, and not to\ngive anything to one without giving half to the other.  Then the two\nladies put their arms round each other, and went to the cradle where\nlittle Bee slept under light blue curtains, as blue as the sky.  Without\nopening her eyes she moved her little arms, and as she opened her\nfingers five small pink beams appeared to come out of each sleeve.\n\n\"He will defend her,\" said the mother of George.  \"And she will love\nhim,\" the mother of Bee answered.  \"She will love him,\" a small, clear\nvoice repeated.\n\nThe Duchess recognised it as that of a spirit that had long lived under\nthe hearthstone.\n\nOn her return to her manor the Lady of the White Moor divided her jewels\namong her maids, and, having anointed herself with odorous essences and\nput on her most beautiful clothes to honour that body which will rise\nagain on the Day of Judgment, she laid herself down on the bed and went\nto sleep for ever.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER II*\n\n               *HOW THE LOVES OF BEE OF THE CLARIDES AND\n                    GEORGE OF THE WHITE MOOR BEGAN*\n\n\nThe ordinary lot of women is to be more good than beautiful or more\nbeautiful than good. But the Duchess of Clarides was as good as she was\nbeautiful, and she was so beautiful that the princes who had only seen\nher picture had wished to marry her.  To all their proposals she\nanswered:\n\n\"As I have but one soul I will never have but one husband.\"\n\nYet she only wore mourning for five years. Then she put off her long\nveil and her black clothes, for she did not like to depress those around\nher or to prevent them smiling or being merry in her presence.  Her\nDuchy included large tracts of land, and lonely moors covered in all\ntheir vast extent with heather; also lakes where fishermen caught fish,\nsome of which were magical, and mountains, terrible and lonely, beneath\nwhich the dwarfs lived in their underground kingdom.\n\nIn the government of the Clarides she followed the advice of an old monk\nwho had escaped from Constantinople.  His belief in the wisdom of men\nwas small, for he had seen how brutal and perfidious they are.  He lived\nshut up in a tower with his birds and his books, and there he performed\nhis duties as counsellor, acting according to a very few principles.\nHis rules were: \"Not to revive old laws; to give way to the wishes of\nthe people for fear of rebellion, but to give way as slowly as possible,\nbecause, when one reform is carried out, the public immediately demand\nanother.  Princes are deposed for giving way too quickly, just as they\nare for resisting too long.\"\n\nThe Duchess, understanding nothing at all about politics, let him do as\nhe pleased.  She was charitable, and, as she could not like all men, she\nwas sorry for those unfortunate enough to be wicked.  She helped the\nunhappy in every possible way, visited the sick, consoled widows, and\nprovided for orphans.\n\nShe brought up her daughter Bee with the most charming wisdom.  She\ntaught this child only to take pleasure in doing good, consequently she\ncould indulge her to any extent.\n\nThis amiable lady kept her promise made to the poor Countess of the\nWhite Moor.  She acted as a mother to George and made no distinction\nbetween Bee and him.  They grew up together and George found Bee to his\ntaste, though rather small.  One day, when they were still in their\nearliest childhood, he came to her and said:\n\n\"Will you play with me?\"\n\n\"I would like to,\" said Bee.\n\n\"We will find some sand and make sand pies,\" said George.\n\nSo they made pies, but as Bee did not make hers very well, George hit\nher on the fingers with his spade.  Bee uttered the most piercing\nshrieks, and the squire, Freeheart, who was walking in the gardens, said\nto his young Lord:\n\n\"It is not a deed worthy of a Count of the White Moor to beat young\nladies, your Highness.\"\n\nGeorge's first impulse was to thrust his spade right through the body of\nthe squire.  But as the difficulties of this enterprise seemed\ninsuperable, he fell back upon an easier course of action, which was to\nturn his face against a big tree and weep copiously.\n\nIn the meanwhile, Bee took good care to keep her tears flowing by\ndigging her fists into her eyes; and, in her despair, she flattened her\nnose against the trunk of a neighbouring tree. When night began to cover\nthe earth, George and Bee were still weeping, each in front of their\ntree.  The Duchess of the Clarides had to take her daughter with one\nhand and George with the other to bring them back to the castle.  Their\neyes were red, their noses were red, their cheeks were shiny; their sobs\nand snuffles were heart-rending.  They ate their supper with a good\nappetite; then each was put to bed.  But as soon as the candle was blown\nout they slipped out of bed like little ghosts and kissed each other\nshouting with laughter.  So the loves of Bee of the Clarides and George\nof the White Moor began.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER III*\n\n                *WHICH DEALS WITH EDUCATION IN GENERAL,\n                   AND THAT OF GEORGE IN PARTICULAR*\n\n\nGeorge grew up in this castle next to Bee, whom he called sister in the\nway of friendship, though he knew she was not so.\n\nHe had masters to teach him fencing, riding, swimming, gymnastics,\ndancing, hunting, falconry, tennis and generally all the arts.  He even\nhad a writing master, an old clerk, humble in his ways, but inwardly\nproud, who taught him various styles of handwriting.  The more beautiful\nthe style was, the more difficult it was to read.  George found little\npleasure, and consequently little benefit, either in the lessons of this\nold clerk or in those of an old monk who gave grammatical instruction,\nusing the most barbarous terminology.  George could not make out why he\nshould take the trouble to learn a tongue he could talk by nature, which\nis called the mother tongue.\n\nThe only person he liked being with was the squire, Freeheart, who,\nhaving sought adventures all over the world, knew the customs of men and\nof beasts, described all sorts of countries, and composed songs he did\nnot know how to write down.  Freeheart was the only master who taught\nGeorge anything, because he was the only one who liked him, and\naffectionate lessons are the only good lessons.  But the two pedants,\nthe writing master and the grammatical master, who hated each other with\nall their heart, united in a common hatred of the old squire, whom they\naccused of inebriety.\n\nIt was true that Freeheart was rather too fond of going to the tavern\ncalled the Tin-jug.  There he forgot his cares and composed his songs.\nHe was certainly in the wrong.\n\nHomer composed songs even better than Freeheart, and Homer only drank\nspring water. As to troubles, everybody has them, and it is not drinking\nwine but giving happiness to others that effaces them.\n\nBut Freeheart was an old man grown grey in the wars, loyal and\nmeritorious, and the two masters ought to have hidden his weakness\ninstead of reporting them with exaggeration to the Duchess.\n\n\"Freeheart is a drunkard,\" said the writing master, \"and when he comes\nback from the tavern called the Tin-jug, he describes in the road large\nS's as he walks.  I may say that this is the only letter he has ever\nshaped, for this drunkard is an ignoramus, your Grace.\"\n\nThe grammatical master added:\n\n\"As he staggers along he sings songs that offend against every rule and\nfollow no received form; he is totally ignorant of synecdoche, your\nGrace.\"\n\nThe Duchess had a natural dislike of meanness and tale-bearing.  She did\nwhat all of us would have done in the same situation: she disregarded\nthem at first, but as they kept on repeating their reports she ended by\nbelieving them and determined to remove Freeheart.  However, to make his\nexile honourable she sent him to Rome to get the blessing of the Pope.\nWhat made this journey so long to the Squire Freeheart was the large\nnumber of taverns, haunted by musicians, which lay between the Duchy of\nthe Clarides and the papal city.  The story will show how soon the\nDuchess was to regret she had deprived the two children of their most\nreliable protector.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER IV*\n\n               *TELLS HOW THE DUCHESS TOOK BEE AND GEORGE\n                 TO THE HERMITAGE AND OF THEIR MEETING\n                      AN HIDEOUS OLD WOMAN THERE*\n\n\nOne morning, that of the first Sunday after Easter, the Duchess issued\nfrom the castle on her big chestnut horse, having on her left George of\nthe White Moor, riding a jet-black pony who had a white star in the\nmiddle of his forehead, and, on her right, Bee, who had a pink bridle to\ngovern a pony with a cream-coloured coat. They were going to hear Mass\nat the Hermitage. Soldiers carrying lances escorted them, and there was\na press of people on the way to admire them.  And really each of the\nthree was very beautiful.  The Duchess looked stately and sweet under\nher veil spangled with silver flowers and her loose cloak: the mild\nsplendour of the pearls which embroidered her headdress was becoming to\nthe face and to the soul of this beautiful person.  Next to her George,\nwith his waving hair and bright eye, looked quite handsome, and the\nsoft, clear colour of Bee's face, who was riding on her other side, was\na delicious pleasure to the eye; but nothing was more wonderful than the\nflow of her fair hair, bound in a ribbon embroidered with three golden\nlilies.  It fell down her shoulders like the splendid mantle of youth\nand beauty.  The good folk looked at her and each said to the other,\n\"What a pretty young lady!\"\n\nThe master tailor, old John, lifted his grandson Peter in his arms to\nshow him Bee, and Peter asked whether she was alive, or whether she was\nnot really a piece of waxwork.  He could not understand that a creature\nso white and delicate could belong to the same species as he, little\nPeter, did, with his chubby, sunburnt cheeks and drab rustic smock laced\nat the back.\n\nWhile the Duchess received these marks of respect with kindness, the two\nchildren showed the contentment of pride, George in his flush, Bee in\nher smile.  This is why the Duchess said to them:\n\n\"These good people greet us very cheerfully. George, what do you think\nof it?  And what do you, Bee?\"\n\n\"That they do well,\" said Bee.\n\n\"And that it is their duty,\" said George.\n\n\"And for what reason is it their duty?\" the Duchess asked.  Seeing they\ngave no answer, she continued:\n\n\"I am going to tell you.  From father to son, for more than three\nhundred years, the dukes of the Clarides, lance in rest, protected these\npoor people, who owe it to them that they can reap the harvest they have\nsown.  For more than three hundred years every Duchess of the Clarides\nhas spun wool for the poor, visited the sick, and held their babies over\nthe baptismal font.  That is why, children, you are greeted.\"\n\nGeorge thought: \"The ploughman will have to be protected,\" and Bee: \"I\nwill have to spin wool for the poor.\"\n\nSo, conversing and reflecting, they made their way through meadows\nenamelled with flowers. A range of blue hills ran its indented line\nalong the horizon.  George stretched out his hand towards the East.\n\n\"Is not that a large shield of steel that I see over there?\"\n\n\"It is rather a silver buckle as large as the moon,\" said Bee.\n\n\"It is neither a shield of steel nor a silver buckle, children,\" the\nDuchess answered, \"but a lake shining in the sun.  The face of the\nwater, that from a distance looks as smooth as a mirror, is broken into\ninnumerable waves.  The banks of this lake that seem to you as clean as\nif they were cut out of metal are really covered with reeds, waving\ntheir light plumes, and with irises, whose flower is like a human eye\namong drawn swords. Each morning white mists cover the lake, which\nshines like armour under the midday sun.  But you must not go near it,\nfor the Sylphs live there who draw travellers down into their crystal\nmanor.\"\n\nAnd now they heard the tinkle of the Hermitage bell.\n\n\"Let us get off,\" said the Duchess, \"and go on foot to the chapel.  It\nwas neither on their elephants nor their camels that the Wise Men of the\nEast approached the Manger.\"\n\nThey heard the Hermit's Mass.  An old woman, hideous and in rags, knelt\nnext to the Duchess, who offered her holy water as they went out of\nchurch, and said:\n\n\"Take some, my good woman.\"\n\nGeorge was astonished.\n\n\"Do you not know,\" said the Duchess, \"that you must honour the poor as\nthe favourites of Jesus Christ?  A beggar woman just like this one held\nyou over the baptismal font with the good Duke of the Black Rocks, and\nsimilarly your little sister Bee had a beggar as a godfather.\"\n\nThe old woman, who had guessed the feelings of the little boy, leaned\ntowards him, leering, and said:\n\n\"I wish you the conquest of as many kingdoms as I have lost, my prince.\nI have been Queen of the Island of Pearls and of the Mountains of Gold;\nevery day I had fourteen different kinds of fish served at my table, and\na little blackamoor to carry my train.\"\n\n\"And by what misfortune did you lose your islands and your mountains, my\ngood woman?\" asked the Duchess.\n\n\"I offended the dwarfs, who have carried me off from my States.\"\n\n\"Have the dwarfs so much power?\" asked George.\n\n\"Living under the earth,\" the old woman said, \"they know the virtue of\nstones, fashion metal, and discover springs.\"\n\nThe Duchess:\n\n\"And what did you do to vex them, good mother?\"\n\nThe old woman:\n\n\"On a night of December one of them came to me to ask my permission to\nprepare a great New Year's supper in the kitchens of the castle, which\nwere larger than a capitular hall, and furnished with stew and\npreserving and frying pans, pipkins, caldrons, boilers, ovens,\ngridirons, porringers, dripping-pans, meat screens, fish-kettles,\npastry-moulds, jugs, goblets of gold and silver and of grained woods,\nnot to speak of the turnspit skilfully wrought of iron, and the huge\nblack kettle hanging to the pothook.  He promised that nothing should be\nlost or damaged.  I refused his request, and he withdrew muttering dark\nthreats.  Three nights after, which was that of Christmas, the same\ndwarf returned to the room in which I was sleeping; he was accompanied\nby a multitude of others, who pulled me from my bed, and carried me off\nin my nightshirt to an unknown land.\n\n\"This,\" they said to me on leaving, \"this is the punishment of rich\npeople who will not grant a portion of their treasures to the\nindustrious and gentle nation of Dwarfs, who fashion gold and cause the\nsprings to flow.\"\n\nSo spoke the toothless old woman, and the Duchess, having comforted her\nwith words and money, again took the road to the Castle with her two\nchildren.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER V*\n\n                *IS CONCERNED WITH WHAT YOU SEE FROM THE\n                         KEEP OF THE CLARIDES*\n\n\nOne day, not long after this, Bee and George, without being seen,\nclimbed up the stairs of the Keep which rises in the middle of the\ncastle. On reaching the platform they shouted loudly and clapped their\nhands.  The view stretched over rolling downs, cultivated and cut up\ninto small green and brown squares.  On the horizon they could see hills\nand woods--blue in the distance.\n\n\"Little sister,\" cried George, \"little sister, look at the whole earth.\"\n\n\"It is very big,\" said Bee.\n\n\"My professor,\" said George, \"had taught me that it was big, but as\nGertrude our governess says, seeing is believing.\"\n\nThey walked round the platform.\n\n\"Here is a marvellous thing, little brother,\" said Bee.  \"The castle is\nin the middle of the whole earth, and we, who are on the Keep, which is\nin the middle of the castle, are now in the middle of the whole world.\nHa! ha! ha!\"\n\nAnd really the skyline was around the children like a circle of which\nthe Keep was the centre.\n\n\"We are in the middle of the world.  Ha! ha! ha!\" George repeated.\n\nThen both began to think.\n\n\"What a pity it is that the world is so big!\" said Bee.  \"You can lose\nyourself in it and be separated from your friends.\"\n\nGeorge shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"How nice it is that the world is so big!  You can look for adventures\nin it.  Bee, when I am grown up I mean to conquer those mountains which\nare right at the end of the earth.  It is there that the moon rises.  I\nwill catch it as I go along and give it to you, my Bee.\"\n\n\"That's it,\" said Bee; \"you will give it to me and I will set it in my\nhair.\"\n\nThen they began to look for the places they knew as if on a map.\n\n\"I know perfectly where we are,\" said Bee (who knew nothing of the\nsort), \"but I cannot guess what all those little square stones sown on\nthe side of the hill are.\"\n\n\"Houses!\" answered George; \"those are houses!  Don't you recognise,\nlittle sister, the capital of the Duchy of the Clarides?  It is quite a\nbig town; it has three streets, of which one is paved.  We passed\nthrough it last week to go to the Hermitage.  Don't you remember it?\"\n\n\"And that winding stream?\"\n\n\"That's the river.  Look at the old stone bridge over there.\"\n\n\"The bridge under which we fished for lobsters?\"\n\n\"The very one, which has in the recess the statue of the 'Headless\nWoman,' but you cannot see her from here because she is too small.\"\n\n\"I remember.  Why has she no head?\"\n\n\"Probably because she has lost it.\"\n\nWithout saying whether the explanation satisfied her, Bee kept her eyes\nfixed on the distance.\n\n\"Little brother, little brother, do you see what is shining near the\nblue mountains?  It is the lake.\"\n\n\"It's the lake!\"\n\nThey now remembered what the Duchess had told them of the lovely and\ndangerous waters, where the Sylphs had their manor.\n\n\"Let us go there,\" said Bee.\n\nThis decision overwhelmed George, who gaped and said:\n\n\"The Duchess has forbidden us to go out alone, and how can we get to\nthis lake, which is at the end of the world?\"\n\n\"How to get there I really don't know, but you ought to, who are a man\nand have a grammar master.\"\n\nGeorge was stung, and answered that it is possible to be a man, and even\na fine man, without knowing all the roads in the world.  Bee gave him a\nmincing, disdainful look, made him blush to the tips of his ears, and\nsaid to him primly:\n\n\"I am not the one who promised to conquer the blue mountains and to\nunhook the moon. I do not know the road to the lake, but I will find it;\nyou see!\"\n\n\"Ha! ha! ha!\" said George, trying to laugh.\n\n\"You laugh like a booby, sir.\"\n\n\"Bee, boobies neither laugh nor cry.\"\n\n\"If they did they would laugh like you.  I will go to the lake alone.\nAnd while I discover the lovely waters where the Sylphs live, you can\nstay at the castle all by yourself like a little girl.  I will leave you\nmy tapestry frame and my doll.  Please take great care of them, George;\nplease take great care of them.\"\n\nGeorge had pride.  He felt the shame which Bee put upon him.  With his\nhead down, darkly, he cried in a muffled voice:\n\n\"All right! we will go to the lake!\"\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER VI*\n\n                 *TELLS HOW BEE AND GEORGE WENT OFF TO\n                               THE LAKE*\n\n\nNext day, after lunch, when the Duchess had retired to her room, George\ntook Bee by the hand.\n\n\"Come along,\" he said to her.\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Hush!\"\n\nThey went down the stairs and crossed the courts.  When they had passed\nthe gate Bee asked a second time where they were going.\n\n\"To the lake,\" George answered decisively.\n\nThe mouth of the stupefied Miss Bee gaped. Was it sensible to go that\ndistance, and in satin slippers?  For her slippers were of satin.\n\n\"We must go there, and we need not be sensible.\"\n\nSuch was the lofty answer given by George to Bee.  She had put him to\nshame, and now she pretended to be astonished.  It was now his turn to\nrefer her disdainfully to her doll.  Girls goad a man into adventures,\nand then draw back. Her behaviour was disgraceful.  She might stay\nbehind, but he would go himself.\n\nShe took him by the arm.  He pushed her away.  She flung herself round\nthe neck of her brother.\n\n\"Little brother!\" she said sobbing, \"I will follow you.\"\n\nHer repentance was complete, and it moved him.\n\n\"Come along,\" he said, \"but do not let us go by the town, we might be\nseen.  We had better follow the ramparts and reach the high road by a\nshort cut.\"\n\nThey went holding each other by the hand. George explained the scheme he\nhad drawn up.\n\n\"We will follow the road we took to go to the Hermitage; we are certain\nto see it as we saw it last time, and then we will go straight to it\nacross the field in a bee-line.\"\n\nIn a bee-line is a pretty country way of saying a straight line, but the\nname of the little maid occurring quaintly in the idiom made them laugh.\n\nBee picked flowers growing by the ditch: flowers of the mallow and the\nmullein, asters and oxeyes, making a posy of them; the flowers faded\nvisibly in her little hands, and they looked pitiful when Bee crossed\nthe stone bridge.  As she did not know what to do with her posy, the\nidea occurred to her of throwing them in the water to refresh them, but\nshe preferred to give them to the \"Headless Woman.\"\n\nShe asked George to lift her in his arms to make her tall enough, and\nshe placed her handful of country flowers in the folded hands of the old\nstone figure.\n\nAt a distance she turned her head and saw a dove on the shoulder of the\nstatue.\n\nThey walked some time, and Bee said:\n\n\"I am thirsty.\"\n\n\"So am I,\" said George, \"but the river is far behind us, and I can see\nneither stream nor spring.\"\n\n\"The sun is so hot, it must have drunk them all up; what shall we do?\"\n\nThus they talked and complained, when they saw a countrywoman with a\nbasket full of fruit.\n\n\"Cherries,\" cried George.  \"What a pity it is that I have no money to\nbuy any!\"\n\n\"I have some money,\" said Bee.\n\nShe drew out of her pocket a purse with five pieces of gold in it, and\naddressed the country-woman.\n\n\"Good woman,\" she said, \"will you give me as many cherries as my dress\ncan carry.\"\n\nAs she spoke she held out the skirt of her frock with both hands.  The\ncountrywoman threw two or three handfuls of cherries into it. Bee took\nthe fold of her skirt in one hand and with the other held out a piece of\ngold to the woman and said:\n\n\"Is that enough, that?\"\n\nThe countrywoman seized the piece of gold, which would have been a high\nprice for all the cherries in the basket, with the tree on which they\nhad grown, and the orchard in which the tree was planted, and she\ncunningly answered:\n\n\"That will do to oblige you, my little Princess.\"\n\n\"Then,\" replied Bee, \"put some more cherries in my brother's hat, and I\nwill give you another gold piece.\"\n\nThis was done and the countrywoman pursued her way, thinking of the old\nstocking under the mattress in which she was to hide her two pieces of\ngold.  And the two children went on their road eating the cherries, and\nthrowing the stones to the right and the left.  George looked for\ncherries held together in pairs by the stalk to make earrings of them\nfor his sister, and he laughed to see the beautiful vermeil-coloured\ntwin fruit swinging on the cheek of Bee.\n\nA pebble checked their joyful progress.  It had stuck in the slipper of\nBee, who began to limp.  At each hop she took her gold curls waved on\nher cheeks, and limping thus, she went and sat down.  There her brother,\nkneeling at her feet, took off her satin slipper; he shook it, and a\nlittle white pebble rolled out.\n\nThen looking at her feet, she said:\n\n\"Little brother, when we go again to the lake, we will put on boots.\"\n\nThe sun had by now declined in the radiant sky.  A breath of wind fanned\nthe necks and the cheeks of the young travellers who boldly, and with\nfresh alacrity, pursued their travels. To walk more easily, they held\neach other by the hand and sang, and they laughed to see their two black\nshadows, likewise united, moving in front of them.  They sang:\n\n      Marian the maid,\n      Demure and staid,\n    Went riding to the mill,\n      She placed her load\n      Of corn, and rode\n    Upon her donkey Bill.\n\n\nBut Bee stops.  She cries:\n\n\"I have lost my slipper, my satin slipper.\"\n\nAnd it was as she said.  The silk bows of the little slipper had got\nloose as she walked, and it lay all dusty in the road.\n\nThen she looked behind her, and seeing the towers of the castle swimming\nin the distant mist, she felt a pang, and tears came into her eyes.\n\n\"The wolves will eat us,\" she said, \"and our mother will never see us\nagain, and she will die of grief.\"\n\nBut George brought her slipper to her and said:\n\n\"When the castle bell rings for supper, we will be back at the Clarides.\nForward!\"\n\n      The miller tight,\n      With flour white,\n    Stood close under the mill,\n      And fair and free.\n      Cried, \"To that tree\n    Tie up your donkey Bill.\"\n\n\n\"The lake, Bee, look: the lake, the lake, the lake.\"\n\n\"Yes, George, the lake!\"\n\nGeorge cried hurrah! and threw his hat in the air.  Bee was too well\nbehaved to throw up her coif in the same fashion.  But taking off her\nslipper which barely held, she threw it over her head to show her joy.\nThere it was, the lake, at the bottom of the valley the slopes of which\nran round the silvery waters, holding them as in a cup of foliage and\nflowers.  There it was, calm and clear, and a shiver still ran over the\nruffled grasses of its banks.  But the two children could not discover\nany road in the thickets to take them to this lovely mere.  As they\nsearched, their legs were bitten by geese, who were followed by a little\ngirl, dressed in a sheepskin, with a switch in her hand.  George asked\nher what she was called.\n\n\"Gill.\"\n\n\"Well, Gill, how do you go to the lake?\"\n\n\"I don't go.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because.\"\n\n\"But if you did go?\"\n\n\"If I did go, there would be a road, and I would take the road.\"\n\nThere was no answer to be given to the goose-girl.\n\n\"All right,\" said George, \"we will certainly find a path in the wood\nfurther on.\"\n\n\"We will pick nuts there,\" said Bee, \"and eat them, for I am hungry.  We\nmust, when we come again to the lake, bring a bag full of things good to\neat.\"\n\nGeorge:\n\n\"We will do as you say, little sister.  I now approve the plan of the\nsquire Freeheart, who, when he set out for Rome, took with him a ham for\nhunger and a demijohn for thirst.  But we must hurry, for it seems to me\nit is getting late, though I do not know the time.\"\n\n\"Shepherdesses know it by looking at the sun,\" said Bee; \"but I am not a\nshepherdess. Yet it seems to me that this sun, which was above our heads\nwhen we started, is now over there, far behind the town and the land of\nthe Clarides. I wish I knew whether this is the case every day, and what\nit means.\"\n\nWhile they thus observed the sun a cloud of dust rose on the road, and\nthey saw horsemen, who moved towards them at full gallop and whose\narmour glittered.  The children were very frightened and went and hid in\nthe underwoods.  They are robbers, or rather ogres, they thought. But\nreally they were men-at-arms sent by the Duchess of Clarides to search\nfor the two little adventurers.\n\nThe two little adventurers found a narrow path in the underwood which\nwas not a lover's path, for two could not walk side by side holding each\nother by the hand, as lovers do.  Further, the footprints were not\nhuman.  Only a track made by a multitude of little hoofed feet was\nvisible.\n\n\"These are the footprints of elves,\" said Bee.\n\n\"Or roedeer,\" said George.\n\nThe problem is as yet unsolved.  But what is certain is that the path\nled by an easy descent to the edge of the lake, which now unfolded\nitself to the children in all its languid and silent beauty. Willows\nbent their tender foliage over it.  Reeds, like pliant swords, swayed\ntheir delicate plumes on the water.  They stood ruffling in islands, and\naround them the water-lilies spread their broad heart-shaped leaves and\ntheir pure white flowers. Over the flowering islands shrill dragon-flies\nflew, whirling and darting, with emerald or sapphire breastplates and\nwings of flame.\n\nAnd the two children enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of dipping their\nburning feet into the wet gravel where the thyme grew thick and the\ncattail darted its long spikes.  From its lowly stem the iris yielded\nthem its scent; all around the ribwort unrolled its lace on the edge of\nthe sleeping waters which were studded with the loosestrife's purple\nflowers.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER VII*\n\n                 *SHOWS THE PENALTY GEORGE OF THE WHITE\n                 MOOR PAID FOR HAVING GONE NEAR TO THE\n                      LAKE WHERE LIVE THE SYLPHS*\n\n\nBee went forward on the gravel between two clumps of willows, and in\nfront of her the little genius of the place jumped into the water and\nmade rings on its surface, which grew larger and larger till they\nvanished.  This genius was a little green frog with a white stomach.\nAll was silent: A fresh breath of wind swept over that clear lake, of\nwhich each wave rose in a gracious and smiling fold.\n\n\"This is a pretty lake,\" said Bee, \"but my feet are bleeding in my\nlittle torn slippers, and I am very hungry.  I wish I was in the\ncastle.\"\n\n\"Little sister,\" said George, \"sit on the grass. I am going to wrap your\nfeet in leaves to cool them; then I will go and look for supper for you.\nI saw up there, close to the road, briars black with berries.  I will\nbring you the largest and sweetest in my hat.  Give me your\nhandkerchief, I will fill it with strawberries, for there are plants\nclose by the edge of the path, under the shade of the trees.  And I will\nfill my pockets with nuts.\"\n\nHe made a bed of moss for Bee near the side of the lake, under a willow,\nand went off.\n\nBee lay with clasped hands on her bed of moss, and saw the stars kindle\ntheir tremulous lights in the pale sky; then her eyes half shut; yet she\nseemed to see in the air a little dwarf riding on a crow.  This was not\nan illusion.  The dwarf drew the bridle in the mouth of the black bird,\nstopped above the little girl, and fixed his round eyes on her.  Then he\nstruck his spurs, and went off at full flight.  Bee saw these things\nconfusedly and went to sleep.\n\nShe was sleeping when George came back with his harvest, which he put\nnext to her.  He then went down to the edge of the lake to wait till she\nwoke.  The lake was sleeping under its delicate crown of leafage.  A\nlight mist softly crept over it.  All at once the moon showed itself\nbetween the branches and immediately the waters were strewn with points\nof light.\n\nGeorge plainly saw that the lights which glanced on the waters were not\nall broken reflections of the moon, for he noticed blue flames which\ncame whirling nearer, and rose and fell and swayed as if they were\ndancing rounds.  He soon discerned that these flames flickered on white\nforeheads, on the foreheads of women. In a short time lovely heads\ncrowned with weed and shell, shoulders down which fell blue hair, bosoms\nglittering with pearls and from which veils were sliding, rose above the\nwaves.  The boy recognised the Sylphs, and tried to fly.  But already\npale, cold arms had seized him, and he was being carried, in spite of\nhis struggles and screams, through the waters, in halls of crystal and\nporphyry.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER VIII*\n\n                    *SHOWS HOW BEE WAS TAKEN TO THE\n                          LAND OF THE DWARFS*\n\n\nThe moon had risen above the lake, and only the broken fragments of its\norb were reflected in the water.  Bee still slept.  The dwarf who had\nexamined her came back on his crow.  This time he was followed by a\ntroop of little men. They were very little men.  They had white beards\nreaching down to their knees.  They were the size of children, but they\nhad old faces. The leather aprons and the hammers which they carried\nhanging at their belts made it evident they were metal-workers.  They\nmoved in a strange way by jumping to a great height and turning\nwonderful somersaults; this incredible nimbleness made them less like\nmen than spirits.  But in their wildest antics their faces remained\nunalterably grave, so that it was impossible to make out their real\ncharacter.\n\nThey placed themselves in a circle round the sleeper.\n\n\"Well,\" said the smallest of the dwarfs from the height of his feathered\nmount; \"well, I did not deceive you when I warned you that the prettiest\nof princesses was sleeping on the edge of the lake, and do you not thank\nme for having shown her to you?\"\n\n\"We thank you, Bob,\" answered one of the dwarfs, who looked like an old\npoet; \"truly, there is nothing in the world as pretty as this maiden.\nHer complexion is rosier than the dawn upon the mountains, and the gold\nof our smithies is not as bright as that of her tresses.\"\n\n\"It is true, Pic; Pic, nothing could be more true!\" answered the dwarfs;\n\"but what shall we do with this pretty maid?\"\n\nPic, who resembled an old poet, did not answer this question of the\ndwarfs, because he did not know more than they did what to do with the\npretty maid.\n\nA dwarf, named Rug, said to them:\n\n\"Let us build a large cage and we will shut her in it.\"\n\nAnother dwarf, named Dig, opposed this suggestion of Rug.  According to\nDig, only wild beasts were put in cages, and as yet there was nothing to\nindicate that the pretty maiden was one of them.\n\nBut Rug was taken with his own idea, for want of another to put in its\nplace.  He ingeniously defended it:\n\n\"If this person,\" he said, \"is not wild, she will doubtlessly become so\nby being shut in the cage, which will consequently become useful, and\neven indispensable.\"\n\nThis argument displeased the dwarfs, and one of them, named Tad,\ndenounced it indignantly.  He was a dwarf of utmost goodness. He\nproposed taking back the beautiful girl to her parents, whom he thought\nto be powerful lords.\n\nThis view of the good Tad was rejected as contrary to the custom of the\ndwarfs.\n\n\"Justice should prevail,\" Tad went on to say, \"and not custom.\"\n\nHe was no longer listened to; the crowd had fallen into disorder and\ntumult, when a dwarf, called Paw, who was simple, but sensible, gave his\nviews as follows:\n\n\"We must first wake the maiden, as she does not wake of herself.  If she\nspends the night like this, to-morrow her eyelids will be swollen and\nher beauty will be less, for it is very unhealthy to sleep in a wood on\nthe edge of a lake.\"\n\nThis opinion met with general approval, because it was not opposed to\nany other.\n\nPic, who resembled an old poet overwhelmed with misfortune, went near to\nthe little maid and gazed on her gravely, with the idea that a single\none of his looks would suffice to rouse the sleeper from the deepest\nsleep. But Pic over-estimated the power of his eyes, and Bee continued\nto sleep with her hands clasped.\n\nSeeing this, the good Tad gently pulled her sleeve.  Then she opened her\neyes and raised herself on her elbow.  Seeing herself on a moss-couch,\nsurrounded by dwarfs, she thought that what she saw was a dream, and she\nrubbed her eyes to open them and to let in, instead of this fantastic\nvision, the bright early morning light streaming into her blue room,\nwhere she imagined herself to be.  For her mind, numb with sleep, did\nnot recall the adventure of the lake.  But rub her eyes as she might,\nthe dwarfs stayed there; she had to believe they were real.  Then,\nlooking round anxiously, she saw the forest, her memory returned, she\ncried in agony:\n\n\"George! my brother George!\"\n\nThe dwarfs pressed round her, and, for fear of seeing them, she hid her\nface in her hands.\n\n\"George!  George! where is my brother George?\" she cried sobbing.\n\nThe dwarfs did not tell her, and for this reason, that they did not\nknow.  So she wept bitterly, calling on her mother and her brother.\n\nPaw felt inclined to cry like her; but anxious to console her, he spoke\na few vague words.\n\n\"Do not alarm yourself,\" he said.  \"It would be a pity if such a\nbeautiful lady spoilt her eyes by crying.  But rather tell us your\nhistory; it is certain to be interesting.  It would give us the very\ngreatest pleasure.\"\n\nShe was not listening.  She rose and tried to run away.  But her\nswollen, naked feet gave her such sharp pain that she fell on her knee\nand burst into still more violent sobs.  Tad held her up in his arms,\nand Paw gently kissed her hand. This is why she dared to look and saw\nthat their faces were compassionate.  Pic seemed to be an inspired but\ninnocent creature, and noticing that all the little men looked upon her\nwith kindliness, she said to them:\n\n\"Little men, it is a pity you are so ugly; but I will like you all the\nsame if you will give me something to eat, for I am hungry.\"\n\n\"Bob!\" all the dwarfs cried at the same time, \"fetch some supper.\"\n\nAnd Bob went off on his crow.  Still the dwarfs felt that this little\ngirl had been guilty of an injustice in considering them ugly.  Rug was\nextremely angry.  Pic said to himself, \"She is only a child, and does\nnot see the fire of genius burning in my looks so as to give them\nalternately masterful strength and fascinating grace.\"  Paw thought,\n\"Perhaps it would have been better not to wake this young lady who\nconsiders us ugly.\"  But Tad said, smiling:\n\n\"You will consider us less ugly, Miss, when you like us better.\"\n\nAt these words Bob reappeared on his crow. He brought a roast partridge\non a gold dish, with a loaf of meal bread and a bottle of red wine.  He\nplaced this supper at the feet of Bee, turning an endless number of\nsomersaults.\n\nBee ate and said:\n\n\"Little men, your supper is very good.  My name is Bee; let us look for\nmy brother, and go together to the Clarides, where Mama is waiting for\nus in a state of great anxiety.\"\n\nBut Dig, who was a good dwarf, urged on Bee that she was incapable of\nwalking; that her brother was old enough to find himself; that no\naccident could happen to him in this country, where all wild beasts had\nbeen destroyed.  He added:\n\n\"We will make a stretcher, we will cover it with a litter of leaves and\nmosses, we will place you on it, we will carry you thus into the\nmountain, to introduce you to the King of the dwarfs, as the custom of\nour people requires.\"\n\nAll the dwarfs applauded.  Bee looked at her sore feet and was silent.\n\nShe was relieved to hear there were no wild beasts in the country.  In\nall other matters she relied on the friendship of the dwarfs.\n\nAlready they were constructing the stretcher. Those who had axes were\nhacking away at the stems of two young pines.\n\nThis revived his idea in the head of Rug.\n\n\"If, instead of a stretcher,\" he said, \"we built a cage?\"\n\nBut he raised a unanimous protest.  Tad, looking at him with contempt,\nexclaimed:\n\n\"Rug, you are more like a man than a dwarf. But this, at least, is to\nthe credit of our race that the wickedest of the dwarfs is also the\nstupidest.\"\n\nMeanwhile, the work went on.  The dwarfs leapt in the air to reach\nbranches which they cut in their flight, and out of which they neatly\nbuilt a lattice chair.  Having covered it with moss and dry leaves, they\nmade Bee sit there; then, all together, they seized the two poles, up!\nhoisted it on their shoulders, and swung off to the mountain.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER IX*\n\n                 *TELLS FAITHFULLY THE WELCOME GIVEN BY\n                    KING LOC TO BEE OF THE CLARIDES*\n\n\nThey ascended the woody side of the hill by a tortuous path.  Here and\nthere blocks of granite, bare and rusty, rose in the grey foliage of the\ndwarf oaks, and the rugged landscape was enclosed by russet hills and\ntheir blue-grey ravines.\n\nThe procession, preceded by Bob on his winged steed, entered a cleft of\nthe rocks hung with briar.  Bee, with her golden hair scattered on her\nshoulders, looked like the dawn risen on the mountains, if it is true\nthat sometimes the dawn gets frightened, calls for her mother, and tries\nto run away, for these three events occurred when the little girl dimly\nsaw dwarfs terribly armed lurking in all crevices of the cliff.\n\nThey held themselves motionless with their bows strung and levelled\nlances.  Their tunics of hide and long knives hanging at their belts\ngave them a terrible appearance.  Game of fur and feather lay at their\nfeet.  But these hunters, as far as their faces went, did not look\nfierce; on the contrary, they seemed mild and grave like the dwarfs of\nthe forest, whom they very much resembled.\n\nUpright in their midst stood a dwarf of great majesty.  He wore a cock's\nfeather at his ear, and on his forehead a diadem studded with enormous\njewels.  His mantle was flung over his shoulder showing a robust arm,\nloaded with gold rings.  A bugle of ivory and carved silver hung at his\nbelt. He leant his left hand upon his lance in an attitude of repose and\nstrength, and with the right he shielded his eye to look towards Bee and\nthe light.\n\n\"King Loc,\" the dwarfs of the forest said to him, \"we bring you the\nbeautiful little girl we have found: her name is Bee.\"\n\n\"You do right,\" said King Loc.  \"She will live among us, as the custom\nof the dwarfs requires.\"\n\nThen advancing to Bee,\n\n\"Bee,\" he said to her, \"welcome!\"\n\nHe spoke gently to her, for already his feelings towards her were\nfriendly.  He stood on tiptoe to kiss her hand which hung down, and\nre-assured her that not only should no kind of harm happen to her, but\nthat all her wishes should be satisfied, even if she should ask for\nnecklaces, mirrors, wool of Cashmere, and silks of China.\n\n\"I would very much like some slippers,\" answered Bee.\n\nThen King Loc struck a gong of bronze which hung to the walls of rock\nwith his lance, and immediately something was seen coming from the end\nof the cavern bounding like a ball.  It grew bigger till it became a\ndwarf, the features of whose face recalled those given by painters to\nthe illustrious Belisarius, but whose leather apron showed him to be a\nbootmaker.\n\nAs a matter of fact it was the chief bootmaker.\n\n\"True,\" said the King to him, \"choose in our store the most supple\nleather, take cloth of gold and silver, ask the keeper of my treasures\nfor a thousand pearls of the finest water, and construct a pair of\nslippers for little Bee out of the leather, the tissues and the pearls.\"\n\nAt these words True threw himself at the feet of Bee and measured them\naccurately.  But she said:\n\n\"Little King Loc, you must give me the beautiful slippers you have\npromised me directly, and, when I have them, I will return to my mother\nat the Clarides.\"\n\n\"You will have your slippers, Bee,\" answered King Loc: \"you will have\nthem to walk about inside the mountain and not to return to the\nClarides, for you cannot leave this kingdom where you will learn\nbeautiful secrets that are unguessed upon the earth.  Dwarfs are\nsuperior to men, and it is for your happiness that you have been found\nby them.\"\n\n\"It is for my unhappiness,\" answered Bee. \"Little King Loc, give me\nwooden shoes like those worn by peasants, and let me return to the\nClarides.\"\n\nBut King Loc shook his head to express that it was not possible.  Then\nBee clasped her hands and sweetened her voice:\n\n\"Little King Loc, let me go and I will love you.\"\n\n\"You will forget me, Bee, on the sunny earth.\"\n\n\"Little King Loc, I will not forget you, and I will love you as much as\nBreath-of-Wind.\"\n\n\"And who is Breath-of-Wind?\"\n\n\"My cream-coloured pony; he has a pink bridle and eats out of my hand.\nWhen he was small, the squire Freeheart used to bring him up to my room\nof a morning, and I used to kiss him.  But now Freeheart is at Rome and\nBreath-of-Wind is too big to go upstairs.\"\n\nKing Loc smiled.\n\n\"Bee, will you love me more than Breath-of-Wind?\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\n\"That is right.\"\n\n\"I will, but I cannot; I hate you, little King Loc, because you prevent\nme seeing my mother and George again.\"\n\n\"Who is George?\"\n\n\"George is George, and I like him.\"\n\nThe friendship of King Loc for Bee had largely increased in a few\nmoments, and, as he already hoped to marry her when she was of age, and\nthrough her to reconcile men and dwarfs, he feared that George might at\nsome time become his rival and disturb his plans.  This is why he knit\nhis eyebrows and walked off, drooping his head like a worried man.\n\nBee, seeing she had vexed him, gently plucked at the skirt of his coat.\n\n\"Little King Loc,\" she said in a sad and tender voice, \"why do we each\nof us make the other unhappy?\"\n\n\"Bee, it is the fault of circumstances,\" answered King Loc; \"I cannot\ntake you back to your mother, but I will send her a dream which will\ninform her of your fate, dear Bee, and console her.\"\n\n\"Little King Loc,\" answered Bee, smiling through her tears, \"you have\nhad a good idea, but I will tell you what you ought to do.  Every night\nyou ought to send my mother a dream in which she will see me and send me\na dream in which I will see my mother.\"\n\nKing Loc promised to do so.  And what he said he did.  Each night Bee\nsaw her mother, and each night the Duchess saw her daughter.  This\nsatisfied their affection a little.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER X*\n\n              *IN WHICH THE WONDERS OF THE KINGDOM OF THE\n                  DWARFS ARE THOROUGHLY DESCRIBED, AS\n               WELL AS THE DOLLS WHICH WERE GIVEN TO BEE*\n\n\nThe kingdom of the dwarfs was deep and stretched under a great part of\nthe earth.  Though the sky was only visible here and there through\nopenings in the rock, the open places, the roads, the palaces, and hall\nwere not buried in the thickest night.  Only a few rooms and several\ncaverns remained in darkness.  The others were lighted, not by lamps and\ntorches, but by planets and meteors which shed a wild, fantastic\nbrightness, and this brightness shone upon strange marvels.  Enormous\nbuildings had been hewn in the face of the rock: in certain places\npalaces cut out of granite rose to such a height up under the vaults of\nthe huge caverns that their stone carvings disappeared in a mist pierced\nby the yellowish light of little planets less luminous than the moon.\n\nThere were in those kingdoms fortresses of stupendous mass,\namphitheatres whose stone tiers formed a semicircle which the eye could\nnot embrace in its full extent, and vast wells with sculptured sides in\nwhich no plummet could ever have found a bottom.  All these structures,\napparently unsuited to the stature of their inhabitants, agreed\nperfectly with their quaint fantastic turn of mind.\n\nThe dwarfs wrapped in hoods with sprigs of fern-leaves stuck in them\nmoved about these buildings with the nimbleness of spirits.  It was\nquite common to see one jump from the height of two or three stories on\nto the lava pavement and rebound like a ball.  His face retained in the\nact that calm, majestic expression which sculptors give to the heads of\nancient great men.\n\nThere was no indolence, and all applied themselves to their work.  Whole\nquarters resounded with the noise of hammers; the shrieks of machinery\nechoed against the cavern roofs, and it was a curious sight to see the\ncrowd of miners, smiths, goldbeaters, jewellers, diamond polishers,\nhandle their pickaxes, hammers, pincers, and files with the dexterity of\nmonkeys.  But there was a more peaceful quarter.\n\nThere, uncouth and huge figures, shapeless pillars dimly projected from\nthe rough stone; they seemed to be aged and venerable.  There rose a\nsquat palace with low doors; it was the palace of King Loc.  Just\nopposite was the house of Bee, house, or rather cottage, with only one\nroom in it, and this was hung with white muslin; fir-wood furniture\nspread its pleasant scent in the room.  A cleft in the rock let in the\nlight of the sky, and on fine nights stars were visible.\n\nBee had no special servants, but the whole dwarf nation struggled in\nemulation to supply all her needs and anticipate all her wishes, except\nthat of reascending above ground.\n\nThe most learned dwarfs who possess great secrets took pleasure in\nteaching her, not with books, for dwarfs do not write, but by showing\nher all the plants of the mountains and the valleys, the different kinds\nof animals, and the various stones which are drawn from the bosom of the\nearth.  And it was by sights and examples that they, with their gay\nsimplicity, taught her the wonders of nature and the methods of art.\n\nThey made toys for her such as no rich children on the earth have ever\nhad, for these dwarfs were capable and invented marvellous machines.  In\nthose depths they put together for her dolls that could move with grace\nand express themselves according to the rule of poetry.  When assembled\nin a little theatre, of which the scenery represented the sea shore, the\nblue sky, palaces, and temples, these dolls played tragedies of\nsurpassing interest.  Though they were not much longer than a man's arm\nthey looked exactly, some like reverend old men, others like men in the\nprime of life, or like lovely maidens dressed in white robes.  There\nwere also among them mothers clasping to their bosoms innocent little\nchildren.  And these eloquent dolls spoke and acted on the stage as if\nthey were moved by hatred, love, or ambition.  They passed cleverly from\njoy to grief, and so well did they imitate nature that they raised\nsmiles or drew tears. Bee clapped her hands at the show.  The dolls who\naimed at tyranny made her shudder with disgust.  On the other hand she\npoured treasures of compassion on the doll who, once a princess, now a\nwidow and a captive, her head crowned with cypress, has no other means\nof saving the life of her child than marrying, alas! the barbarian who\nmade her a widow.\n\nBee never grew tired of this game in which the dolls introduced infinite\nvariety.  The dwarfs also gave concerts for her and taught her to play\nthe lute, the viola, the theorbo, the lyre, and divers other kinds of\ninstruments.  In such a fashion she became a good musician, and the\nplays represented by the dolls gave her an experience of men and life.\nKing Loc was present at these plays and concerts, but he saw and heard\nno one else but Bee, and his whole soul was gradually drawn towards her.\n\nMeanwhile days and months passed, years made their round, and still Bee\nstayed among the dwarfs, incessantly amused and always full of regret\nfor the earth.  She was growing into a beautiful young woman.  Her\nstrange fate gave a touch of strangeness to her face, only adding to it\nanother charm.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER XI*\n\n                 *IN WHICH THE TREASURE OF KING LOC IS\n                     DESCRIBED AS WELL AS POSSIBLE*\n\n\nBee had been among the dwarfs for six years to a day.  King Loc summoned\nher to his palace and ordered his treasurer in her presence to displace\na large stone which seemed fixed in the wall, but which was, in reality,\nonly inserted into it.\n\nThey all three passed through the opening left by the removal of the\nlarge stone and found themselves in a crevice of the rock where two\npeople could not walk abreast.  King Loc went forward first along the\ndark path and Bee followed, holding on to the skirt of the royal mantle.\nThey went on walking for a long time. At times the walls of rock came so\nclose together that the girl was afraid of being caught between them,\nwithout being able to move forward or back, and of dying there.  But the\nmantle of King Loc sped before her along the dark and narrow path.  At\nlast King Loc found a bronze door, which he opened, and there was a\nflood of light.\n\n\"Little King Loc,\" cried Bee, \"I never knew before that light was such a\nbeautiful thing.\"\n\nBut King Loc, taking her by the hand, led her into the hall from which\nthe light came, and said to her:\n\n\"Look!\"\n\nBee, dazzled, at first saw nothing, for this huge hall, resting on high\nmarble pillars, was from the floor to the roof all glorious with gold.\n\nAt the far end, on a dais made of sparkling gems, enchased in gold and\nin silver, and the steps of which were covered by a carpet of marvellous\nembroidery, was set a throne of ivory and gold with a canopy of\ntranslucent enamels.  At its side two palm-trees, three thousand years\nold, rose from two gigantic vessels carved long ago by the best\ncraftsmen of the dwarfs.  King Loc sat down on this throne and made the\nyoung girl stand on his right hand.\n\n\"Bee,\" he said to her, \"this is my treasure; choose whatever you like.\"\n\nImmense shields of gold, hung to the pillars, caught the sunbeams and\nflung them back in dazzling showers.  Crossed swords and lances hung\nflaming their bright points.  The tables which spread close to the walls\nwere loaded with bowls, flagons, ewers, chalices, pyxes, patins,\ngoblets, beakers, with drinking-horns of ivory ringed with silver, with\nenormous bottles of rock crystals, dishes of carved gold and silver,\nwith coffers, with reliquaries in the shape of churches, with mirrors,\nwith candelabra and censers as wonderful for their workmanship as for\ntheir material, and with thuribles in the shape of monsters, and on one\nof the tables a game of chess made of moonstones was spread out.\n\n\"Choose, Bee,\" King Loc repeated.\n\nBut raising her eyes above these riches, Bee saw the blue sky through an\nopening in the roof, and as if she had understood that the light of the\nsky alone gave these things their brightness, she only said:\n\n\"Little King Loc, I would like to go back to earth.\"\n\nThen King Loc made a sign to his treasurer, who, lifting some heavy\ncurtains, showed a huge coffer barred with plates and patterns of iron.\nThe coffer being open there streamed from it a thousand beams of various\nand charming colours; each of these beams sprang from a precious stone\ncunningly cut.  King Loc dipped his hand in them, and they saw rolling\nin luminous confusion the violet amethyst and the maiden stone; the\nemerald of three natures, the one dark green, the other called the\nhoneyed emerald because it is of the colour of honey, the third of a\nbluish-green called beryl, which bestows beautiful dreams; the eastern\ntopaz; the ruby beautiful as the blood of brave men; the dark blue\nsapphire called the male sapphire, and the pale blue sapphire called the\nfemale sapphire; the alexandrite, the hyacinth, the turquoise, the opal,\nwhose lights are softer than those of the dawn, the hyalite, and the\nSyrian garnet.  All the stones were of the most limpid water and the\nmost luminous colour.  And big diamonds cast their dazzling white lights\namong these coloured fires.\n\n\"Bee, choose,\" said King Loc.\n\nBut Bee shook her head and said:\n\n\"Little King Loc, I prefer a single one of the sunbeams which strike the\nslates of the castle of the Clarides to all these jewels.\"\n\nThen King Loc had a second coffer opened which held nothing but pearls.\nBut all these pearls were round and pure; their changing lights took on\nall the tints of the sky and the sea, and their glow was so mild that it\nseemed to express a lovely thought.\n\n\"Take some,\" said King Loc.\n\nBut Bee answered him:\n\n\"Little King Loc, these pearls remind me of the looks of George of the\nWhite Moor; I like these pearls but I like the eyes of George better.\"\n\nHearing these words, King Loc turned away his head.  Yet he opened a\nthird coffer and showed the young girl a crystal in which a drop of\nwater had been a prisoner since the earliest time of the world, and,\nwhen shaken, the crystal showed this drop of water moving.  He also\ndisplayed to her pieces of yellow amber in which insects more dazzling\nthan jewels had been taken for millions of years.  Their delicate legs\nand frail membranes were distinguishable, and they would have taken wing\nagain if some power had melted like ice their scented prison-house.\n\n\"These are great natural curiosities; I give them to you, Bee.\"\n\nBut Bee answered:\n\n\"Little King Loc, keep the amber and the crystal, for I could not give\nback their liberty either to the fly or the drop of water.\"\n\nKing Loc looked at her for a time and said:\n\n\"Bee, the richest treasures will be well placed in your hands.  You will\npossess them and they will not possess you.  The greedy are the prey of\ntheir own gold; only those who despise wealth can possess it with\nsafety; their souls will always be greater than their fortune.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, he made a sign to his treasurer who presented a\ncrown of gold on a cushion to the young girl.\n\n\"Receive this jewel as a sign of the esteem we have for you, Bee,\" said\nKing Loc.  \"Henceforward you will be called the Princess of the Dwarfs.\"\n\nAnd he himself placed the crown on the brow of Bee.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XII*\n\n                      *IN WHICH KING LOC PROPOSES*\n\n\nThe dwarfs celebrated the coronation of their first princess by\nfestivals and rejoicings.  In their perfect simplicity they played games\nat random in the huge amphitheatre, and the little men, with a sprig of\nfern or two oak leaves neatly fixed in their hood, went leaping joyfully\nalong the subterranean streets.  The rejoicings lasted thirty days.  In\nhis intoxication Pic had the look of an inspired mortal; the good Tad\nwas enraptured with the general happiness; the tender Dig gave himself\nthe pleasure of shedding tears; Rug, in his joy, again proposed that Bee\nshould be put in a cage that the dwarfs might not fear losing so\ndelightful a princess; Bob, riding on his crow, filled the air with such\njoyful cries that the bird itself grew merry, and gave forth wild little\ncroaks.\n\nKing Loc alone was sad.\n\nIt came to pass that on the thirtieth day, having entertained the\nprincess and the whole nation of the dwarfs at a splendid feast, he\nstood upon his arm-chair, and his kind face being thus raised to the\nlevel of Bee's ear:\n\n\"Princess Bee,\" he said to her, \"I am going to make a request which you\nhave full liberty to grant or to refuse.  Bee of the Clarides, princess\nof the dwarfs, will you be my wife?\"\n\nAnd, speaking thus, King Loc, grave and tender, looked as handsome and\nmild as a majestic poodle.  Bee pulled his beard and answered him.\n\n\"Little King Loc, I am willing to be your wife for fun; but I will never\nbe your wife seriously.  When you propose to marry me, you make me think\nof Freeheart, who, on the earth, used to tell me the most incredible\ntales to amuse me.\"\n\nAt these words King Loc turned away his head, but too slowly for Bee not\nto see a tear caught in the eyelashes of the dwarf.  Then Bee was sorry\nshe had hurt him.\n\n\"Little King Loc,\" she said to him, \"I love you like a little King Loc\nthat you are, and if you make me laugh as Freeheart used to, that ought\nnot to annoy you, for Freeheart sang very well, and would have been\ngood-looking without his grey hair and red nose.\"\n\nKing Loc answered her:\n\n\"Bee of the Clarides, princess of the dwarfs, I love you in the hope\nthat you will one day love me.  But had I not that hope I would love you\njust as much.  I request you, in return for my friendship, always to be\nsincere with me.\"\n\n\"Little King Loc, I promise you I will.\"\n\n\"Well, Bee, tell me if you love any one enough to marry him.\"\n\n\"Little King Loc, I love no one as much as that.\"\n\nThen King Loc smiled, and seizing his golden goblet he proposed in\nringing tones the health of the princess of the dwarfs.  And a vast\nmurmur rose from the depths of the earth, for the table at which they\nfeasted stretched from one end to the other of the dwarfish empire.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XIII*\n\n                   *TELLS HOW BEE SAW HER MOTHER AND\n                          COULD NOT KISS HER*\n\n\nBee, with a crown set on her forehead, was more pensive and more sad\nthan in those days when her hair flowed unbound on her shoulders, and\nwhen she went laughing to the smithy of the dwarfs to pull the beards of\nher good friends, Pic, Tad, and Dig, whose faces, reddened by the glow\nof the flames, grew merry at her welcome. The good dwarfs, who once used\nto dandle her on their knees and call her their Bee, now bowed at her\napproach and kept deferentially silent. She regretted she was no longer\na child, and she was oppressed by being the princess of the dwarfs.\n\nIt no longer gave her any pleasure to see King Loc since she had seen\nhim cry on her account. But she liked him; for he was kind, and he was\nunhappy.\n\nOne day (if it can be said that there are days in the empire of the\ndwarfs) she took King Loc by the hand and drew him to the fissure of the\nrock admitting a beam in which golden motes danced gaily.\n\n\"Little King Loc,\" she said to him, \"I am in pain.  You are also a king,\nyou love me, and I am in pain.\"\n\nHearing these words of the beautiful maiden, King Loc answered:\n\n\"I love you, Bee of the Clarides, princess of the dwarfs; and this is\nwhy I have kept you in this our world, so as to teach you our secrets\nwhich are more great and wonderful than anything you can learn on earth\namong men, for men are less clever and less learned than dwarfs.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Bee, \"but they are more like me than the dwarfs; that is why\nI like them better. Little King Loc, let me see my mother again, if you\ndo not wish me to die.\"\n\nKing Loc walked away without answering.\n\nBee, alone and dejected, gazed on the beam of that light which bathes\nthe whole face of the earth and pours its radiant floods on all living\nmen, and even on the beggars that tramp the roads.  Slowly the beam grew\nfaint and changed its golden splendour into a pale, blue light.  Night\nhad come upon earth.  A star glittered through the fissure in the rock.\n\nThen some one touched her on the shoulder and she saw King Loc wrapped\nin a black mantle. On his arm hung another mantle which he put round the\ngirl.\n\n\"Come,\" he said to her.\n\nAnd he led her from underground.  When she again saw the trees swept by\nthe wind, the clouds racing over the moon and the whole of the fresh,\nblue night, when she smelt the scent of the grasses, and took to her\nbosom in a flood the air she had breathed during her childhood, she gave\na great sigh and thought to die of joy.\n\nKing Loc had taken her in his arms; small as he was, he carried her as\neasily as a feather, and the two went gliding over the earth like the\nshadow of two birds.\n\n\"Bee, you are going to see your mother again. But listen.  Every night,\nas you know, I send your image to your mother.  Every night, she sees\nyour dear shape.  She smiles and speaks to it, and kisses it.  To-night\nI am going to show you, instead of your ghost.  You will see her; but do\nnot touch her, do not speak of her, for then the charm would be broken,\nand she will never again see you nor your image, which she does not\ndistinguish from yourself.\"\n\n\"I will therefore be careful, alas! little King Loc ... there it is,\nthere it is!\"\n\nThere was the Keep of the Clarides rising black on the hill.  Bee hardly\nhad time to send a kiss to the old, well-beloved stones; now she saw,\nblooming with gilliflowers, the ramparts of the town of the Clarides fly\npast her; now she was going up along a slope where glow-worms shone in\nthe grass to the postern gate, which King Loc opened easily, for the\ndwarfs, the metal workers, are not stopped by locks, padlocks, bolts,\nchains, and bars.\n\nShe went up the spiral staircase leading to her mother's room and\nstopped to put her two hands to her beating heart.  The door opened\nslowly, and, by the light of a lamp hung from the ceiling, Bee saw, in\nthe brooding, religious silence, her mother, worn and pale, her hair\nsilvered at the temples, but more beautiful thus for her daughter than\nin the days gone by of splendid jewels and fearless rides.  As the\nmother saw her daughter in a dream, she opened her arms to embrace her.\nAnd the child, laughing and sobbing, tried to cast herself into these\nopen arms; but King Loc tore her from this embrace and carried her off\nlike a straw over the dark champaign, down into the kingdom of the\ndwarfs.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XIV*\n\n                *IN WHICH THE GREAT GRIEF THAT OVERTOOK\n                           KING LOC IS SEEN*\n\n\nBee, seated on the granite steps of the subterranean palace, again gazed\nat the blue sky through the fissure in the stone.  High above the elder\ntrees turned their white umbels towards the light.  Bee began to cry.\nKing Loc took her by the hand and said to her:\n\n\"Bee, why are you crying and what do you want?\"\n\nAnd, as she had been sad for several days, the dwarfs seated at her feet\nwere playing to her very simple tunes on the flute, the flageolet, the\nrebec, and the cymbals.  Other dwarfs turned, to please her, such\nsomersaults, that one after the other they stuck in the ground the tips\nof their hoods decorated with a plume of leaves; nothing could be more\ndiverting to see than the sports of these little men with their hermit\nbeards. The good Tad, the romantic Dig, who loved her from the day they\nhad seen her sleeping on the edge of the lake, and Pic, the old poet,\ntook her gently by the arm and begged her to tell them the secret of her\ngrief.  Paw, who was simple but sensible, held up to her grapes in a\nbasket, and all, tugging the edge of her dress, repeated with King Loc:\n\n\"Bee, princess of the dwarfs, why are you weeping?\"\n\nBee answered:\n\n\"Little King Loc and you all, little men, my grief increases your grief\nbecause you are kind; you weep when I weep.  Know that I weep thinking\nof George of the White Moor, who must to-day be a brave knight, and whom\nI shall never see again.  I love him and I wish to be his wife.\"\n\nKing Loc drew his hand from the hand he was pressing and said:\n\n\"Bee, why did you deceive me and tell me, at the feast table, that you\nloved no one?\"\n\nBee answered:\n\n\"Little King Loc, I did not deceive you at the feast table.  I did not\nthen wish to marry George of the White Moor, and it is to-day my highest\ndesire that he should propose to marry me.  But he will not propose,\nsince I do not know where he is and he does not know where to find me.\nAnd this is why I cry.\"\n\nAt these words the musicians stopped playing their instruments; the\nleapers interrupted their leaps and remained motionless on their heads\nor their seats; Tad and Dig shed silent tears on Bee's sleeve; the\nsimple Paw let drop the basket with the bunches of grapes, and all the\nlittle men gave fearful groans.\n\nBut the King of the Dwarfs, more dejected than all of them under his\ncrown of sparkling stones, walked away without a word, letting his\nmantle drag behind him like a torrent of purple.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER XV*\n\n                 *RELATES THE WORDS OF THE LEARNED NUR\n                  WHICH GAVE AN EXTRAORDINARY PLEASURE\n                          TO LITTLE KING LOC*\n\n\nKing Loc had not shown his weakness to the maiden, but when he was\nalone, he sat on the ground, and holding his feet in his hands, he gave\nway to grief.\n\nHe was jealous, and he said to himself:\n\n\"She is in love, and it is not with me!  Yet I am a king and am full of\nlearning; I have treasures, I know marvellous secrets; I am better than\nall the other dwarfs, who are superior to men.  She does not love me,\nand she loves a young man who has not the learning of the dwarfs and\nwho, perhaps, has none at all.  Clearly she does not appreciate merit\nand is silly.  I ought to laugh at her want of sense, but I love her and\nnothing in the world pleases me because she does not love me.\"\n\nFor many long days King Loc wandered alone in the wildest gorges of the\nmountains, revolving in his mind sad and sometimes wicked ideas.  He\nthought of compelling Bee by captivity and hunger to become his wife.\nBut discarding the idea almost as soon as he had formed it, he\ndetermined to go to the girl and to throw himself at her feet.  Still he\ncould not make up his mind, and did not know what to do.  For truly, the\npower was not given to him to make Bee love him.\n\nHis anger turned all at once against George of the White Moor; he hoped\nthat this young man would be carried far away by a magician, or at\nleast, if he should ever be acquainted with Bee's love, that he would\ndisdain it.\n\nAnd the king thought:\n\n\"Without being old, I have already lived too long not to have suffered\nat times.  But my suffering, deep as it was, was never so fierce as what\nI undergo to-day.  These former pains being caused by tenderness or by\npity had something of their heavenly gentleness.  On the contrary, I\nfeel at this hour that my grief has the blackness and bitterness of a\nbad passion.  My soul is arid, and my eyes swim in tears as in a burning\nacid.\"\n\nSo thought King Loc.  And, dreading that jealousy should make him unjust\nand wicked, he avoided meeting the young girl for fear of using, without\nwishing to, the tone of a weak or violent man.\n\nOne day, being more than ordinarily tortured by the thought that Bee\nloved George, he determined to consult Nur, who was the most learned of\nthe dwarfs and lived in the bottom of a well dug in the entrails of the\nearth.\n\nThis well had the advantage of an even, mild temperature.  It was not\ndark, for two little planets, a pale sun and red moon, alternately gave\nlight to every part of it.  King Loc went down this well and found Nur\nin his laboratory. Nur had the face of a pleasant old little man, and\ncarried a wisp of wild thyme in his hood. In spite of his learning, he\nshowed in all matters the innocence and candour of his race.\n\n\"Nur,\" said the king, embracing him, \"I have come to consult you because\nyou know many things.\"\n\n\"King Loc,\" answered Nur, \"I might know many things and yet be only a\nfool.  But I know the way to learn a few of the innumerable things I do\nnot know, and this is why I am justly renowned as a man of learning.\"\n\n\"Well,\" continued Loc, \"do you know where a boy called George of the\nWhite Moor is now?\"\n\n\"I do not know, and I have never had the curiosity to learn,\" answered\nNur.  \"Knowing how ignorant, stupid, and wicked men are, I do not care\nmuch what they think or what they do. Except that, to give some value to\nthe life of the proud and wretched race, the men have courage, the women\nbeauty, and the little children innocence, O King Loc, the whole of\nmankind is lamentable or ridiculous.  Subject like the dwarfs to the\nnecessity of working to live, men have rebelled against the divine law,\nand, far from being like us workmen full of jubilance, they prefer war\nto work, and would rather kill than help each other.  But one must\nacknowledge, to be just, that the brevity of their life is the principal\ncause of their ignorance and their ferocity.  They live too short a time\nfor them to learn how to live.  The Dwarf race, which lives under the\nearth, is happier and better.  If we are not immortal, at least each of\nus will last as long as the earth which carries us in its bosom and\npervades us with its inmost, fruitful warmth, while for the race which\nis born on its rough rind, its breath is burning or icy, spreading death\nas well as life.  However, men are indebted to their extreme misery and\nwretchedness for a quality which makes the soul of some of them more\nbeautiful than the soul of the dwarfs. This quality, as splendid to the\nmind as the mild sheen of pearls to the eye, King Loc, is compassion.\nSuffering teaches it, and the dwarfs do not know it well, because, being\nwiser than men, they have fewer sorrows.  So the dwarfs sometimes leave\ntheir deep grottoes and mix with men on the inclement rind of the earth,\nin order to love them, to suffer with them and through them, and then to\ntaste compassion, which falls on the soul like a heavenly, refreshing\ndew. Such is the truth about men, King Loc; but did you not ask me for\nthe particular fate of one of them?\"\n\nKing Loc having repeated his question, the old Nur looked into one of\nthe glasses that filled the room.  For the dwarfs have no books, those\nfound among them come from man and are used as toys.  To instruct\nthemselves they do not refer as we do to signs made upon paper; they\nlook into the glasses and see the subject of their researches.  The only\ndifficulty is to select the proper glass and direct it rightly.\n\nThese glasses are of crystal, also of topaz and opal; but those which\nhave a big polished diamond as lens are the most powerful and are used\nto see very distant things.\n\nThe dwarfs also have lenses of a diaphanous substance, unknown to men.\nThese allow the eye to pierce through walls and rocks as if they were\nglass.  Others, more wonderful still, reproduce as faithfully as a\nmirror all that time has carried away in its course, for the dwarfs can\nrecall, from the infinite vastness of the ether back into their cavern\nthe light of former days together with the shapes and colours of\nvanished ages.  They enjoy this view of the past by collecting the\nshowers of light, which, having once fallen against the forms of men, of\nbeasts, of plants and of rocks, recoil through the immeasurable ether\nfor all time.\n\nThe old Nur excelled in reviving the shapes of the past and even those,\nimpossible to imagine, which existed before the earth had taken upon it\nthe aspect which we know.  So it was mere play for him to find George of\nthe White Moor.\n\nHaving looked for less than a minute in quite a simple glass, he said to\nKing Loc:\n\n\"King Loc, he whom you seek is now among the Sylphs, in the manor of\ncrystal from which none return, and whose iridescent walls march with\nyour kingdom.\"\n\n\"He is there, is he?  Let him stop there!\" cried King Loc, rubbing his\nhands.\n\nAnd having embraced the old Nur, he went out of the well in peals of\nlaughter.\n\nAll along the road he held his sides to laugh at his ease; his head\nwagged with mirth; his beard rose and fell on his chest; \"ha! ha! ha!\nha! ha! ha! ha!\"  The little men who met him also began to laugh like\nhim, out of sympathy. Seeing them laugh, others laughed too; this\nlaughter spread from one to another till the whole inside of the earth\nwas shaken with a jovial great guffaw.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XVI*\n\n                   *TELLS THE MARVELLOUS ADVENTURE OF\n                       GEORGE OF THE WHITE MOOR*\n\n\nKing Loc did not laugh long; on the contrary, he hid the face of a very\nunhappy little man under his bedclothes.  Thinking of George of the\nWhite Moor, prisoner of the Sylphs, he could not sleep the whole night.\nSo, at that hour of the morning when the dwarfs who have a dairymaid for\na friend go to milk the cows in her place while she sleeps like a log in\nher white bed, little King Loc revisited Nur in his deep well.\n\n\"Nur,\" he said to him, \"you did not tell me what he was doing among the\nSylphs.\"\n\nThe old Nur thought that King Loc had gone out of his mind, and he was\nnot very frightened, because he was certain that King Loc, if he became\nmad, would certainly turn into a graceful, witty, amiable, and kindly\nmadman.  The madness of the dwarfs is gentle like their sanity and\ndelightfully fantastic.  But King Loc was not mad; at least he was not\nmore so than lovers usually are.\n\n\"I mean George of the White Moor,\" he said to the old man, who had\nforgotten this young man as completely as possible.\n\nThen the learned Nur arranged the lenses and the mirrors in a careful\npattern, but so intricate that it had the appearance of disorder, and\nshowed to King Loc in the mirror the very shape of George of the White\nMoor, such as he was when the Sylphs carried him off.  By properly\nchoosing and skilfully directing the instruments, the dwarf showed the\nlovelorn king the whole adventure of the son of that countess who was\nwarned of her end by a white rose.  And here expressed in words is what\nthe two little men saw in the reality of form and colour.\n\nWhen George was carried away in the icy arms of the daughter of the\nlake, he felt the water press his eyes and his breast, and he thought it\nwas death.  Yet he heard songs that were like caresses, and he was\nsteeped in a delicious coolness.  When he opened his eyes again he found\nhimself in a grotto; it had crystal pillars in which the delicate tints\nof the rainbow shone. At the end of this grotto there was a large shell\nof mother-of-pearl, irisated with the softest colours: it was a canopy\nspreading over a throne of coral and weeds where sat the queen of the\nSylphs.  But the aspect of the sovereign of the waters had lights softer\nthan the sheen of mother-of-pearl and of crystal.  She smiled at the\nchild brought to her by her women and let her green eyes rest on him\nlong.\n\n\"Friend,\" she at length said to him, \"welcome in our world, where you\nwill be spared every pain.  For you, no dry books or rough exercises,\nnothing coarse that recalls the earth and its labours, but only the\nsongs, the dances, and the friendship of the Sylphs.\"\n\nSo the blue-haired women taught the child music, waltzing, and a\nthousand amusements. They loved to bind on his forehead the shells that\nstarred their own locks.  But he, thinking of his country, gnawed his\nfists in impatience.\n\nThe years went by, and George's wish to see the earth again was\nunchanged and fervent, the hardy earth burnt by the sun, frozen by the\nsnow, the native earth of sufferings and affections, the earth where he\nhad seen, where he wished to see Bee again.  Now he was growing into a\nbig boy, and a slight golden down ran along his upper lip.  Boldness\ncame to him with his beard, and one day he appeared before the queen of\nthe Sylphs, and having bowed, said to her:\n\n\"My lady, I have come, if you deign to permit it, to take leave of you.\nI am going back to the Clarides.\"\n\n\"Dear friend,\" the queen answered, smiling, \"I cannot grant you the\nleave you demand, for I keep you in my crystal manor to make you my\nfriend.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" George replied, \"I feel unworthy of so great an honour.\"\n\n\"This is the effect of your courtesy.  No good knight ever thinks he has\ndone enough to win the love of his lady.  Further, you are yet too young\nto know all your merits.  Be sure, dear friend, that nobody wishes you\nanything but good.  You only have to obey your lady.\"\n\n\"My lady, I love Bee of the Clarides, and I will love no other lady but\nher.\"\n\nThe queen, very pale, but still more beautiful, cried:\n\n\"A mortal woman, a gross daughter of men, this Bee, how can you love\nthat?\"\n\n\"I do not know, but I know that I love her.\"\n\n\"Very well, you will recover.\"\n\nAnd she detained the young man in the delights of the crystal manor.\n\nHe did not know what a woman was, and was more like Achilles among the\ndaughters of Lycomedes than Tannhauser in the magic mountain. So he\nwandered gloomily along the walls of the immense palace, looking for an\nopening to run away; but on all sides he saw the floods enclosing his\nluminous prison in their mute and magnificent kingdom.  Through the\ntransparent walls he watched the anemones bloom and the coral flowering,\nwhile purple, azure, and golden fish sparkled and sported above the\ndelicate madrepores and the glistening shells.  These marvels did not\ninterest him; but lulled by the delicious songs of the Sylphs, he slowly\nfelt his will give way, and his whole soul dissolve.\n\nHe was all slackness and indifference, when he found by chance in a\ngallery of the palace an old worn book of vellum, studded with copper\nnails.  The book, found in a wreck at the bottom of the sea, dealt with\nchivalry and ladies, and there were told at length stories of the\nadventures of heroes who went through the world fighting giants,\nredressing wrongs, protecting widows, and assisting orphans for the love\nof justice and the honour of beauty. George flushed and grew pale in\nturn with admiration, shame, and anger at the tale of these splendid\nadventures.  He could not contain himself:\n\n\"I also,\" he cried, \"will be a good knight!  I also will go through the\nworld punishing the wicked and helping the unhappy for the good of men\nand the name of my lady Bee.\"\n\nThen his heart grew great with courage.  He strode with drawn sword\nthrough the crystal mansions.  The white women fled and vanished before\nhim like the silvery waves of a lake.  Their queen alone saw him come\nupon her unmoved. She fixed on him the cold look of her green eyes.\n\nHe rushes to her; he cries:\n\n\"Unclasp the charm which you have thrown on me.  Open me the road to\nearth.  I wish to fight in the sun like a knight.  I wish to return to\nlove, to suffer, and to struggle.  Give me back the true life and the\ntrue light.  Give me action and achievement; if you do not I will kill\nyou, wicked woman!\"\n\nShe shook her head smiling, to say \"no.\"  She was beautiful and calm.\nGeorge struck her with all his strength.  But his sword broke against\nthe glittering bosom of the queen of the Sylphs.\n\n\"Child!\" she said.\n\nAnd she had him shut up in a kind of crystal funnel which formed a cell\nunder the manor; round it sharks prowled, opening their monstrous jaws\narmed with a triple row of sharp teeth. And it seemed as if at each\ncharge they must break the thin partition of glass; it was not possible\nto sleep in this strange cell.\n\nThe point of this submarine funnel rested on a rocky bottom which was\nthe dome of the furthest and the least known cavern of the Empire of the\ndwarfs.\n\nThis is what the two little men saw in the course of an hour as exactly\nas if they had followed George all the days of his life.  The ancient\nNur, after having displayed the cell scene in all its sadness, spoke to\nKing Loc much in the way of a showman when he has shown the magic\nlantern to little children.\n\n\"King Loc,\" he said to him, \"I have shown you all you wished to see,\nand, your knowledge being perfect, I can add nothing to it.  I am not\nanxious to know whether what you have seen has pleased you; it is enough\nthat it is true. Science takes no account of pleasing or displeasing. It\nis inhuman.  It is not science, it is poetry which charms and consoles.\nThat is why poetry is more necessary than science.  King Loc, go and\ncompose a song.\"\n\nKing Loc went out of the well without speaking a word.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XVII*\n\n              *IN WHICH KING LOC MAKES A TERRIBLE JOURNEY*\n\n\nOn leaving the well of science King Loc went to his treasure, took a\nring from a box of which he alone had a key, and put it on his finger.\nThe bezel of this ring shone brightly, for it was made of magic stone\nwhose virtues will be discovered in the course of this story.  King Loc\nthen went to his palace, where he put on a travelling cloak, drew on\nheavy boots, and took a stick.  Then he set out through the crowded\nstreet, the broad roads, the villages, and the halls of porphyry, the\nlakes of petroleum, and the grottos of crystal which communicated with\neach other by narrow openings.\n\nHe seemed pensive and spoke words which had no sense.  But he walked on\nsteadily.  Mountains blocked the way and he climbed the mountains;\ncliffs yawned at his feet and he went down the cliffs; he crossed fords,\nhe passed through grisly regions darkened by the fumes of sulphur.  He\nwalked over burning lava, in which his feet printed themselves; he\nseemed to be an extremely determined traveller.  He entered dark caverns\nwhere the sea water, trickling in drops, fell like tears along the weeds\nand made pools in the uneven soil in which innumerable crustaceans grew\nmonstrously.  Enormous crabs, giant crayfish, spiders of the sea,\ncracked under the feet of the dwarf and made off, leaving behind a claw,\nand waking in their flight hideous hoary cuttle-fish, who suddenly waved\ntheir hundred arms and spat from their beaks a reeking poison. King Loc\nwent on all the same.  He reached the end of these caverns staggering\nunder a load of monsters armed with stings, double jagged pincers, claws\nthat curled up to his neck, and sullen eyes brandished at the end of\nlong branches. He climbed the side of the cavern clinging to the\nroughnesses of the rock, and the armoured beasts went up with him, and\nhe only stopped when by groping he found a stone that jutted out of the\nvaulted summit.  With his magic ring he touched this stone, which\nimmediately fell with a great crash, and immediately a flood of light\npoured its lovely streams into the cavern and put to flight the beasts\nbred in darkness.\n\nKing Loc put his head through the opening where the light came from, saw\nGeorge of the White Moor thinking of Bee and the earth, and mourning in\nhis glass prison.  For King Loc had made this subterranean journey to\nrelease the prisoner of the Sylphs.  But seeing this big head, all hair,\neyebrows, and beard, look at him from the bottom of the crystal funnel,\nGeorge thought a great danger threatened him, and he felt for the sword\nat his side, forgetting he had broken it on the bosom of the green-eyed\nwoman. Meanwhile King Loc examined him curiously.\n\n\"Pooh!\" he said to himself, \"it is only a child.\"\n\nCertainly it was a very simple child, and he owed to his great\nsimplicity his escape from the delicious and mortal kisses of the queen\nof the Sylphs.  Aristotle with all his learning could not have got out\nof it so easily.\n\nGeorge, seeing himself defenceless, said:\n\n\"What do you want of me, big head?  Why hurt me, if I have never hurt\nyou?\"\n\nKing Loc answered in a jovial and gruff tone:\n\n\"My dear boy, you do not know if you have hurt me, for you are ignorant\nof effect and cause, of reflex action, and generally of all philosophy.\nBut do not let us talk of this.  If you are not reluctant to leave your\nfunnel, come through here.\"\n\nGeorge immediately insinuated himself into the cavern, slid down the\nwall, and, as soon as he reached the bottom:\n\n\"You are a good little man,\" he said to his deliverer, \"I will like you\nall my life; but do you know where Bee of the Clarides is?\"\n\n\"I know a great many things,\" answered the dwarf, \"and especially that I\ndo not like inquisitive people.\"\n\nGeorge, hearing these words, remained quite abashed, and he silently\nfollowed his guide through the thick and murky air where cuttlefish and\ncrabs were moving.  Then King Loc said to him with a grin:\n\n\"The road is rather rough, my young prince.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" George answered him, \"the way to freedom is always pleasant, and\nI am not afraid of being lost by following my benefactor.\"\n\nLittle King Loc bit his lips.  When he reached the hall of porphyry, he\nshowed the young man a staircase made in the stone by which the dwarfs\ngo up above ground.\n\n\"Here is your road,\" he said to him, \"good-bye.\"\n\n\"Do not say good-bye,\" replied George, \"tell me you will see me again.\nMy life belongs to you after what you have done for me.\"\n\nKing Loc answered:\n\n\"What I have done was not for you, but for another.  We had better not\nsee each other again, because we might not like each other.\"\n\nGeorge replied unaffectedly and seriously:\n\n\"I did not think that my release would give me pain.  And yet it has.\nGood-bye, sir.\"\n\n\"I wish you a good journey,\" King Loc cried roughly.\n\nNow this staircase ended in a lonely quarry which lay less than a league\nfrom the castle of the Clarides.\n\nKing Loc pursued his way muttering:\n\n\"This boy has neither the learning nor the wealth of the dwarfs.  I do\nnot really know why he is loved by Bee, unless it is that he is young,\nhandsome, loyal, and bold.\"\n\nHe returned to the town laughing to himself like a man who has played a\npractical joke on some one.  Passing in front of Bee's house, he pushed\nhis big head through the window, as he had done into the glass funnel,\nand he saw the young girl embroidering a veil with silver flowers.\n\n\"Rejoice, Bee,\" he said to her.\n\n\"And you,\" she answered, \"little King Loc, may you never have anything\nto wish for, or at least anything to regret.\"\n\nThere was something he wished for, but really he had nothing to regret.\nThis thought gave him a large appetite for supper.  After eating a great\nnumber of truffled pheasants, he called Bob.\n\n\"Bob,\" he said to him, \"get on your crow: go to the Princess of the\nDwarfs and tell her that George of the White Moor, who was for a long\ntime a prisoner of the Sylphs, returned to-day to the Clarides.\"\n\nHe spoke, and Bob flew off on his crow.\n\n\n\n\n                            *CHAPTER XVIII*\n\n              *TELLS THE MARVELLOUS MEETING THAT OCCURRED\n                 TO JOHN, THE MASTER TAILOR, AND OF THE\n                   GOOD SONG SUNG BY THE BIRDS OF THE\n                         GROVE TO THE DUCHESS*\n\n\nWhen George found himself on the earth where he was born, the first\nperson he met was John, the old master tailor, carrying on his arm a\nscarlet suit for the steward of the castle.  The old fellow gave a great\ncry at the sight of the young lord.\n\n\"St. James!\" he said, \"if it is not his Highness George of the White\nMoor, who was drowned in the lake seven years ago, then it is his ghost\nor the devil himself!\"\n\n\"It is not a ghost or a devil, my good John, but it is that George of\nthe White Moor who used to slip into your shop and ask you for little\nbits of cloth to make dresses for the dolls of my sister Bee.\"\n\nBut the old fellow exclaimed:\n\n\"So you were not drowned, your Highness?  I am very pleased.  You look\nquite well.  My grandson, Peter, who used to climb up into my arms of a\nSunday morning to see you go by on horseback next to the Duchess, has\nbecome a good workman and a fine, handsome lad.  He will be glad to know\nyou are not at the bottom of the water, and that the fish have not eaten\nyou as he thought.  He is accustomed to say about this the most amusing\nthings in the world; for he is full of wit, your Highness.  And it is a\nfact that everybody regrets you in the Clarides. You were such a\npromising little boy.  I will remember to my last day how once you asked\nme for my needle, and as I would not give it to you, because you were\nnot old enough to handle it without danger, you answered me that you\nwould go into the wood and pick the fine needles of the pines.  This is\nwhat you said, and it still makes me laugh.  Upon my word this is what\nyou said.  Our little Peter used also to make excellent answers.  He is\na cooper at present, at your service, your Highness.\"\n\n\"I will employ none other but him.  But, Master John, give me some news\nof Bee and the Duchess.\"\n\n\"Alas, where have you been, your Highness, not to know that Princess Bee\nwas carried off, seven years ago, by the dwarfs of the mountain? She\ndisappeared the very day you were drowned; and it can be said that on\nthat day the Clarides lost their two sweetest flowers.  The Duchess has\nmourned greatly ever since.  This always makes me say that the great\npeople of this world have their trouble like the poorest workmen, and\nthis is a sign that we are all children of Adam. Accordingly a cat may\nlook at a king, as they say. By the same token the good Duchess saw her\nhair grow grey and lost all her gaiety.  And when, in the spring, she\nwalks about in a black dress under the grove where the birds sing, the\nsmallest of these birds is more enviable than the sovereign of the\nClarides.  Her sorrow, however, is not hopeless, your Highness; for, if\nshe has no news of you, at least she knows by dreams that her daughter\nBee is alive.\"\n\nOld John said these things and many others, too; but George was not\nlistening to him since he had heard that Bee was a prisoner of the\ndwarfs.\n\nHe reflected:\n\n\"The dwarfs detain Bee under the earth; a dwarf got me out of my crystal\nprison.  These little men have not all the same habits; my deliverer\nsurely does not belong to the tribe of those who carried off my sister.\"\n\nHe did not know what to think, unless it was that Bee must be released.\n\nNow they were going through the town, and, as they passed, the old women\nstanding at their thresholds asked each other who this young stranger\nwas, and they agreed his appearance was handsome.  The more wary, having\nrecognised the Lord of the White Moor, thought they saw a ghost, and\nfled, crossing themselves vigorously.\n\n\"Holy water ought to be cast at him,\" said an old woman, \"and he would\nvanish leaving a disgusting smell of sulphur.  He is carrying off Master\nJohn, the tailor, and quite certainly he will plunge him all alive into\nthe flames of hell.\"\n\n\"Gently, old woman,\" a burgess replied, \"the young lord is alive and a\ngood deal more so than you and me.  He is as fresh as a rose, and rather\nseems to have come from some noble court than from the other world.  Men\ncome back from far, my good woman; witness the squire Freeheart, who\ncame back to us from Rome last Candlemas.\"\n\nAnd Mary, the armourer's daughter, having admired George, went up to her\nmaiden room, and kneeling then before the image of the Holy Virgin:\n\"Holy Virgin,\" she said, \"grant me a husband like this young lord.\"\n\nEvery one spoke in their own way of the return of George, so much so\nthat the news flew from mouth to mouth to the ears of the Duchess, who\nwas then walking in the orchard.  Her heart beat high, and she heard all\nthe birds in the grove sing:\n\n    Teewhit, teewhit, teewhit,\n    Teewhit, teewhit, teewhit,\n    George of the White Moor,\n    Teewhit, teewhit, teewhit,\n    Whom you brought up,\n    Teewhit, teewhit, teewhit,\n    Is here, here, here, here.\n\n\nFreeheart respectfully approached her, and said to her:\n\n\"Your Grace, George of the White Moor, whom you thought to be dead, has\nreturned.  I am going to make a song about it.\"\n\nStill the birds sang:\n\n    Teewhit, teewhit, twit, twit,\n    Is here, here, here,\n    Is here, here, here.\n\n\nAnd when she saw the child coming she had brought up as a son she opened\nher arms and fell in a swoon.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XIX*\n\n                   *TELLS OF A LITTLE SATIN SLIPPER*\n\n\nPeople were pretty certain in the Clarides that Bee had been carried off\nby the dwarfs. It was also the belief of the Duchess; but her dreams did\nnot give her any exact information.\n\n\"We will find her,\" said George.\n\n\"We will find her,\" answered Freeheart.\n\n\"And we will bring her back to her mother,\" said George.\n\n\"And we will bring her back,\" answered Freeheart.\n\n\"And we will marry her,\" said George.\n\n\"And we will marry her,\" answered Freeheart.\n\nAnd they inquired among the inhabitants concerning the habits of the\ndwarfs and the mysterious facts of Bee's capture.\n\nThis led them to question the nurse Glauce, who had been the nurse of\nthe Duchess of the Clarides; but now Glauce was old and fed the fowls in\nher farmyard.\n\nThere the squire and his master found her. She was crying \"Ss! ss! ss!\nchick! chick! chick; ss! ss! ss! ss!\" and throwing grain to the chicks.\n\n\"Ss! ss! ss! chick! chick! chick! It is your Highness!  Ss! ss! ss! Is\nit possible that you have become so big ... ss! and so handsome? Ss! ss!\nshoo! shoo! shoo!  Do you see that big one there eating the share of the\nsmall ones? Shoo! shoo!  So it is everywhere in the world, your\nHighness.  All the good goes to the rich. The lean get leaner, while the\nfat get fatter. For there is no justice on this earth.  What can I do\nfor you, your Highness?  You will surely each of you take a glass of\nale?\"\n\n\"We will take one with pleasure, Glauce, and I will kiss you because you\nnursed the mother of her whom I love best in the world.\"\n\n\"It is quite true, your Highness; my baby had its first tooth in six\nmonths and fourteen days, and on that occasion the late Duchess made me\na present.  It is quite true.\"\n\n\"Well, tell us, Glauce, what you know of the dwarfs who carried off\nBee.\"\n\n\"Alas! your Highness, I know nothing of the dwarfs who carried her off.\nAnd how can an old woman like me know anything?  I forgot the little I\never learnt long ago, and I have not even enough memory to remember\nwhere I put my spectacles.  I often look for them when I have them on.\nTry this ale, it is nice and cool.\"\n\n\"Your health, Glauce; but I am told your husband knew something about\nBee's carrying off.\"\n\n\"It is quite true, your Highness. Though he had never got any education,\nhe knew a great many things that he learnt in inns and taverns.  He\nnever forgot anything. If he was still in this world and sitting at this\ntable with us, he could tell you stories by the week.  He told me so\nmany and so many of all kinds that they have made a muddle inside my\nhead, and I cannot, at this moment, make head or tail of any of them.\nIt is quite true, your Highness.\"\n\nYes, it is quite true, and the head of the old nurse was as useless as\nan old cracked kettle. George and Freeheart had all the trouble in the\nworld to get any good out of her.  At last, by sifting her, they drew\nout a story which began in this style:\n\n\"Seven years ago, your Highness, on the very day you and Bee got into\nthe scrape from which neither of you came back, my late husband went\ninto the hills to sell a horse.  It is quite true.  He gave his beast a\ngood feed of oats with a dash of cider in it, so that it might have a\nfirm leg and a bright eye; he took it to the market near the hills.  His\ncorn and his cider were not lost, for it made his horse sell better.  It\nis the same with beasts as with men; they are judged by appearances. My\nlate husband was pleased at the good business he had done; he offered to\ndrink with his friends, undertaking to drink fair to them. And I must\ntell you, your Highness, that there was not a man in the whole Clarides\nwho could drink fairer with his friends than my husband. So much so\nthat, on this day, after a great deal of good feeling and harmony, he\ncame back alone in the twilight and took a wrong road, for want of\nfinding the right one.  Finding himself near a cavern, he saw as clear\nas it was possible in his condition and at that hour a band of little\nmen carrying a boy or a girl on a stretcher.  He ran away for fear of a\nmishap, for wine did not deprive him of discretion.  But at some\ndistance from the cavern, having let his pipe fall, he bent to pick it\nup and took hold of a little satin slipper instead.  He made a remark\nabout it which he liked to repeat when he was in a good temper. 'This is\nthe first time,' he said to himself, 'that a pipe changes into a\nslipper.'  Now, as this slipper was the slipper of a little girl, he\nthought that she who had lost it in the wood had been carried off by the\ndwarfs, and that it was her capture he had seen.  He was just on the\npoint of putting the slipper in his pocket when little men, covered with\nhoods, threw themselves upon him and gave him so many smacks on the head\nthat he remained on the spot quite dazed.\"\n\n\"Glauce!  Glauce!\" cried George, \"it is Bee's slipper!  Give it me that\nI may kiss it a thousand times.  It shall lie on my heart for ever, in a\nbag of scented silk, and when I die it shall be put in my coffin.\"\n\n\"As you please, your Highness; but where will you go to get it?  The\ndwarfs took it back from my poor husband, and he even thought that why\nhe had been so thoroughly beaten was because he tried to put it in his\npocket to show the magistrates.  He was accustomed to say on the subject\nwhen he was in a good temper...\"\n\n\"Enough!  Enough!  Only tell me the name of the cave.\"\n\n\"My lord, it is called the cave of the dwarfs, and it is well called so.\nMy late husband...\"\n\n\"Glauce! not a word more!  But you, Freeheart, do you know where this\ncave is?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered Freeheart, finishing his mug of ale, \"you would be\nquite certain I do if you knew my songs better.  I have composed at\nleast a dozen on this cave, and I have described it without forgetting\nthe smallest sprig of moss. I venture to say, my lord, that of these\ntwelve songs, six are really worth something.  But the six others are\nnot to be disdained.  I will just sing you one or two...\"\n\n\"Freeheart,\" cried George, \"we will seize the cave of the dwarfs, and we\nwill deliver Bee!\"\n\n\"Nothing could be more certain,\" answered Freeheart.\n\n\n\n\n                              *CHAPTER XX*\n\n              *IN WHICH A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE IS RELATED*\n\n\nAs soon as night came, and the whole castle was asleep, George and\nFreeheart slipped into the low hall to get arms.  There, under the smoky\njoists, gleamed lances, swords, dirks, espadons, hunting knives,\ndaggers, all that is required to kill man and wolf.  Under each rafter,\na complete suit of armour stood upright, holding itself so sternly and\nproudly that it seemed as if it was still filled by the soul of the\nbrave man who had arrayed himself in it in bygone days to go on great\nadventures.  And the glove clasped the lance in ten iron fingers, while\nthe shield rested on the tassets of the thigh, as if to teach that\nprudence is necessary to courage and that the good soldier is armed for\ndefence as well as for attack.  George selected amid so ample a choice\nthe suit of armour which the father of Bee had carried as far as the\nisles of Avalon and of Thule.  He put it on with the help of Freeheart,\nand he did not forget the shield on which was blazoned proper the golden\nsun of the Clarides.  Freeheart, on the other hand, arrayed himself in\nthe good old steel coat of his grandfather and crowned himself with an\nobsolete headpiece, to which he added a kind of moth-eaten and ragged\nplume, feather, or brush. He made this choice for fun and to look\ncomical; for he considered that gaiety, good at all hours, is especially\nuseful when there are great dangers to be incurred.\n\nHaving thus armed themselves, they went off, under the moon, over the\ndark fields.  Freeheart had tied the horses at the edge of a little\nwood, near the fortress gate, where they found them gnawing the bark of\nthe bushes; these horses were very swift, and it took them less than an\nhour to reach, amid dancing will o' wisps and confused visions, the\nmountains of the dwarfs.\n\n\"Here is the cave,\" said Freeheart.\n\nThe lord and squire dismounted.  Sword in hand, they entered the cave.\nGreat courage was required to engage in such an adventure.  But George\nwas in love and Freeheart was faithful. And as the most delightful of\npoets says:\n\n\"What cannot Friendship do guided by sweet Love?\"\n\nThe lord and the squire walked in the darkness for nearly an hour; then\nthey saw a great blaze, at which they were astonished.  It was one of\nthose meteors with which we know the dwarfs illuminate their kingdom.\n\nBy the light of this subterranean brightness they saw they were at the\nbase of an ancient castle.\n\n\"Here,\" said George, \"is the castle which we must seize.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" answered Freeheart, \"but allow me to drink a few drops of\nthis wine which I brought with me as a weapon, for a good wine makes a\ngood man, and a good man makes a good spear, and a good spear makes a\nbad foe.\"\n\nGeorge, not seeing a living soul, roughly struck with the hilt of his\nsword the door of the castle. A small quavering voice made him lift his\nhead, and he saw at one of the windows a very small old man with a long\nbeard who asked him:\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"George of the White Moor.\"\n\n\"And what do you want?\"\n\n\"I want to take back Bee of the Clarides, whom you unjustly detain in\nyour mole-hill, ugly moles that you are!\"\n\nThe dwarf disappeared, and again George found himself alone with\nFreeheart, who said to him:\n\n\"My lord, I do not know if I am guilty of exaggeration when I state that\nin your answer to the dwarf you did not perhaps exhaust all the\nresources of the most persuasive eloquence.\"\n\nFreeheart feared nothing, but he was old.  His manners, like the top of\nhis head, had been smoothed by time, and he did not like to see people\nannoyed.  George, on the other hand, rushed about yelling:\n\n\"Vile earthmen, moles, badgers, dormice, ferrets, and water-rats, only\nopen the door and I will cut all your ears off.\"\n\nBut hardly had he finished speaking these words when the bronze door of\nthe castle opened of itself.  No one could be seen pushing the huge\nleaves.\n\nGeorge was frightened, and yet he stepped through the mysterious door\nbecause his courage was greater than his fear.  Once inside the court,\nhe saw at all the windows, in all the galleries, on all the roofs, on\nall the gables, inside the lamp and even on the chimney-pots dwarfs\narmed with bows and cross-bows.\n\nHe heard the bronze door shut behind him, and a shower of arrows began\nto fall hard on his head and his shoulders.  For the second time he was\nvery frightened, and for the second time he overcame his fear.\n\nShield on arm, and sword in hand, he went up the stairs, when suddenly\nhe saw, standing on the highest step, and calmly majestic, a stately\ndwarf, bearing the golden sceptre, the royal crown, and the purple\nmantle.  And this dwarf he recognised to be the little man who had freed\nhim from his glass prison.  Then he threw himself at his feet and said\nto him in tears:\n\n\"My benefactor, is it you?  Are you one of those who have taken from me\nBee whom I love?\"\n\n\"I am King Loc,\" answered the dwarf.  \"I have kept Bee with me to teach\nher the secrets of the dwarfs.  Child, you have come upon my kingdom\nlike hail on a garden of flowers.  But the dwarfs, less weak than men,\ndo not grow irritated as they do.  I am too much above you in mind to\nfeel anger at your acts, whatever they may be.  Of all the advantages I\nhave over you there is one that I will carefully keep; it is that of\nbeing just.  I will send for Bee, and I will ask her if she wishes to\nfollow you.  I will do this not because you demand it, but because it is\nmy duty.\"\n\nThere was a deep silence, and Bee appeared in a white dress with her\nfair hair loose.  As soon as she saw George she ran to throw herself in\nhis arms, and clasped with all her might the iron breast of the knight.\n\nThen King Loc said to her:\n\n\"Bee, is it true that this is the man whom you wish to marry?\"\n\n\"It is true, very true, that this is the man, little King Loc,\" answered\nBee.  \"Look, little men, how I laugh and how I am happy.\"\n\nAnd she began to cry.  Her tears fell on George's cheek, and they were\ntears of happiness; laughter mingled with the tears and a thousand\ndelightful words which had no sense, like those murmured by little\nchildren.  She did not reflect that the sight of her happiness could\nsadden the heart of King Loc.\n\n\"Dearest,\" George said to her, \"I find you again just as I wished you to\nbe: the most beautiful and the best of beings.  You love me! Heaven be\nthanked, you love me!  But, Bee, do you not also love King Loc a little,\nwho drew me from the glass prison where the Sylphs kept me far from\nyou?\"\n\nBee turned to King Loc:\n\n\"Little King Loc, you did this!\" she cried: \"you loved me and you freed\nthe one who loved me and whom I loved...\"\n\nShe could say no more, and she fell on her knees, her head in her hands.\n\nAll the little men, witnesses of this scene, shed tears on their\ncrossbows.  King Loc alone kept an unmoved face.  Bee, discovering in\nhim so much magnanimity and so much kindness, felt for him the love of a\ndaughter for a father.  She seized the hand of her lover and said:\n\n\"George, I love you: heaven only knows how much I love you.  But how can\nI leave little King Loc?\"\n\n\"Ha, ha! you are both prisoners of mine,\" cried King Loc in a terrible\nvoice.\n\nHe put on a terrible voice by way of amusement and to play a good joke.\nBut really he was not angry.  Freeheart came to him and bent a knee to\nthe ground.\n\n\"Sir,\" he said, \"will your Highness be pleased to let me share the\ncaptivity of the master I serve?\"\n\nBee, recognising him, said to him:\n\n\"It is you, my good Freeheart.  I am pleased to see you again.  You are\nwearing a very ugly feather.  Tell me, have you composed any new songs?\"\n\nAnd King Loc took them all three off to dinner.\n\n\n\n\n                             *CHAPTER XXI*\n\n                        *IN WHICH ALL ENDS WELL*\n\n\nThe next day George and Freeheart dressed themselves in sumptuous\nclothes which the dwarfs had prepared for them, and betook themselves to\nthe Hall of State where King Loc, in the dress of an Emperor, soon came\nto join them as he had promised.  He was followed by his officers\nwearing arms, and furs of a wild magnificence, and helmets on which\nswan-wings waved. The dwarfs, thronging in crowds, came in by the\nwindows, the ventilators, and the chimneys, and even crept under the\nseats.\n\nKing Loc got up on a stone table, at the end of which were drawn up rows\nof flagons, candlesticks, bowls, and cups of fine gold and of marvellous\nworkmanship.  He motioned to Bee and to George to come near, and said:\n\n\"Bee, a law of the Dwarf people requires that a stranger received within\nour house should be free at the end of seven full years.  You have spent\nseven years in our midst, Bee, and I would be a bad citizen and a guilty\nking if I detained you longer.  But before I let you go away, I wish,\nnot having been able to marry you, to betroth you myself to the man you\nhave chosen.  I do so with joy, because I love you more than myself, and\nmy pain, if any is left, is like a little shadow unnoticed in my\nhappiness.  Bee of the Clarides, Princess of the Dwarfs, give me your\nhand; and you, George of the White Moor, give me yours.\"\n\nHaving put the hand of George in that of Bee, King Loc turned to his\npeople and said in a loud voice:\n\n\"Little men, my children, you are witnesses that these two here\nundertake mutually to marry each other on earth.  Let them return there\ntogether and together bring forth deeds of courage, modesty, and\nfaithfulness, as good gardeners tend and bring to flower roses,\ncarnations and peonies.\"\n\nAt these words the dwarfs shouted loudly, and, not knowing whether they\nought to lament or to rejoice, they were distracted by contrary\nfeelings. King Loc turned again to the two betrothed, and showing them\nthe bowls, the flagons, all the splendid plate:\n\n\"These,\" he said, \"are the presents of the dwarfs. Take them, Bee, they\nwill recall your little friends; they are given by them and not by me.\nYou will know in a moment what I mean to give you.\"\n\nThere was a long silence.  King Loc gazed with a lovely look of\ntenderness at Bee, whose beautiful radiant head, crowned with roses,\nrested on the shoulder of her betrothed.\n\nThen he spoke again in these terms:\n\n\"Children, it is not enough to love much; you must love well.  Great\nlove is good, undoubtedly; wise love is better.  May yours be as mild as\nit is strong; may it want nothing, not even indulgence, and may some\npity be mingled with it. You are young, beautiful and good; but you are\nhuman, and, for that very reason, subject to many miseries.  This is\nwhy, if some pity does not form part of the feelings you have for each\nother, these feelings will not be adapted to the circumstances of your\ncommon life; they will be like holiday clothes which are no protection\nagainst the wind and the rain.  You only love those securely whom you\nlove even in their weaknesses and meannesses.  Mercy, forgiveness,\nconsolation, that is love and all its science.\"\n\nKing Loc stopped, overcome by sweet and powerful emotions.  He resumed\nhis speech:\n\n\"Children, be happy.  Keep your happiness, keep it carefully.\"\n\nWhile he spoke, Pic, Tad, Dic, Bob, Truc, and Paw, clinging to Bee's\nwhite mantle, covered with kisses the girl's naked arms and hands. And\nthey begged her not to leave them.  Then King Loc drew from his belt a\nring, the stone of which flung showers of light.  It was the magic ring\nwith which he had opened the dungeon of the Sylphs.  He slipped Bee's\nfinger through it, and said:\n\n\"Bee, receive at my hands this ring, which will allow you to enter at\nall times, you and your husband, the kingdom of the dwarfs.  You will be\nreceived with delight and helped in every way.  On the other hand, teach\nthe children you will have not to despise the innocent and industrious\nlittle men who live under the earth.\"\n\n\n[Illustration: Dwarf]\n\n\n\n\n                           *LOOKING BACKWARD*\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter I._]\n\nNow that we know all about Princess Bee, we may find it pleasant to look\nbackward and think a little about the story, chapter by chapter, to find\nout whether it has come to stay in our minds. Some stories do and others\ndon't.  We are glad to forget some stories, but I do not think that the\nstory of Bee is one of that kind.  Besides, it is told with such loving\ncarefulness that, for the sake of the writer, who wrote that he might\nplease and inspire us, we ought to read it again with a quiet mind,\nundisturbed by any thought of what is going to happen next; for now we\nknow all about that.\n\nIt is a story of that wonder time so often spoken of as \"long, long\nago,\" and its date does not matter; but you will see from the first\nchapter that it belongs to the time of the knights, the best of whom\ntried to remedy things that were wrong and make the world a finer place\nin which to live.\n\nDo you like the Countess of the White Moor? And why?  How much older was\nGeorge than Bee?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter II._]\n\nRead over several times the description of the estates of the Duchess of\nClarides (there are three bites to _this_ cherry).  It is such a good\n\"pen-picture\" and there are many more in this story for which you ought\nto watch with care.  The old monk in the tower with his birds and his\nbooks is worth thinking about and so are his rules; so also are the\nrules of the Duchess.  There is a good \"pen-picture\" with two trees and\ntwo children in it.  I wonder if you could sketch it?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter III._]\n\nDo they teach falconry in your school?  If not, you might at least try\nto find out something about it, for it was a fascinating sport--except,\nof course, for the little birds--much better fun than learning several\nstyles of handwriting or getting \"grammatical instruction with barbarous\nterminology.\"  What a lovely jumble of big words! What about that\nsentence, \"affectionate lessons are the only good lessons\"?  And\nwhatever is \"inebriety \"?  It must be something very dreadful.  I fancy\nit is something catching and can most easily be caught at \"Tin-jugs,\"\nand \"Red Lions,\" and \"Indian Queens,\" and \"Bull and Bushes,\" and\nsuchlike places where they know absolutely nothing about synecdoche or\naposiopesis either.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter IV._]\n\nThere are some lovely colours in the first bit of this chapter.  Perhaps\nyou could get someone to make a colour-sketch?  And pearls _have_ a\n\"mild splendour,\" haven't they, quite different from diamonds or rubies?\nIf you are a girl wouldn't you like to have a hair-ribbon like Bee's?\nGeorge and Bee were taught a beautiful lesson that morning, and learnt\nit, too.  I wish we could all describe beautiful scenery as beautifully\nas the Duchess could--and, by-the-way, look carefully at the iris flower\nwhen you meet with one again.  Sylphs?  Have you another name for them?\nWhat a sounding title the old beggar-woman gave herself, and what a well\nfurnished kitchen she had!  Have you a pipkin and a caldron at home?\nWhat are the duties of Dwarfs?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter V._]\n\nHave you ever noticed that hills and woods are really \"blue in the\ndistance\"?  A great many writers have done so.  What a charming\ndefinition (horrid word) Princess Bee gave of the horizon, and how\ndifferently she thought of the bigness of the world from George.  Do you\nthink they would find lobsters by fishing under the old stone bridge?\n(Perhaps, however, this is too severe a question for a tale about \"long,\nlong ago.\")  Those forbidden Sylphs were still in the children's minds,\nbut Bee had less fear than George--or was she daring George to go?\nWhich of the two children was the best quarreller?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter VI._]\n\nAnd _now_, who is the brave adventurer?  There is a pretty picture of\nwhich the \"Headless Woman\" is the centre.  Read the description again\nand again and look at the picture with closed eyes.  There is another\nwith Bee in the centre, holding out her skirt for the cherries. Bee's\nteachers had not taught her economics, had they?  It would be hard to\nfind a more charming description of a walk than is contained in this\nchapter.  Bee is soon plunged in despair, but George is a little\nGreatheart and soon has his reward.  Read slowly and more than once the\ndescription of the lake.  The sudden appearance of the goose-girl gives\nus another pretty picture.  What is a demijohn?  How does Bee tell us\nthat the day is waning?  Consider the words \"Reeds, like pliant swords,\"\nand the pretty coloured flower-picture at the end of the chapter.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter VII._]\n\nGeorge still plays the part of Greatheart manfully and is ready for any\nevent, having used his observing powers on the fruits and berries like a\nBoy Scout. Think of that sharp picture against the pale sky of\nevening--\"a little dwarf riding on a crow.\"  Then of the changing\npicture--like a lovely scene in a play--as night falls upon the lake.\nSee how the Sylphs come while the boy stands entranced.  Did he remember\nthe words of Bee's mother as he was carried \"through the waters, in\nhalls of crystal and porphyry\"? And what a lovely word the last one is!\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter VIII._]\n\nIt would be good fun to try to draw a dwarf from the description given\nat the beginning of this chapter, helped by a glance at some of the\nlittle pictures in this book.  Can't you feel how quick the dwarfs were\nas you say the words \"incredible nimbleness,\" rolling them round your\ntongue?  I wonder what it means to \"look like an old poet.\"  Pic's last\nsentence, at all events, is very like poetry.  Rug is very good at\nargument and at sticking to his own opinion. Tad is a dwarf of\ncharacter--\"Justice should prevail, and not custom.\"  As for Pan, he\nmight have been a very sensible father, mightn't he? There is a pretty\npicture when Bee raises herself upon her elbow and another one of a\ndifferent kind when Pic stands upon his dignity (to make himself taller)\nand speaks the sounding sentence which begins, \"She is only a child.\"\nAnd what a depth of real truth there is in Tad's words, \"You will\nconsider us less ugly when you like us better.\"  No one who is loved can\nbe ugly to the one who loves.\n\nAnd what a sad reproach there is in Tad's words to Rug: \"You are more\nlike a man than a dwarf.\"  This chapter ends with another charming\npicture.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter IX._]\n\nHow many colours or tints are mentioned in the first paragraph of this\nchapter?  In the next paragraph poetry and gentle fun have kissed each\nother.  A dwarf of \"great majesty\"?  Oh, yes. Majesty is not a matter of\ninches.  The _dwarf_ monarch understood little girls in a wonderful way\nand Bee was soon at her ease as every guest is who asks for a pair of\nslippers, right off.  The next thing such a guest would do would be to\npoke the fire!  The illustrious Belisarius?  He was a famous general who\nwon many victories in Italy and the East, and was brave, generous, just\nand faithful and afraid of nothing but his wife.  Bee was just a little\nungracious about those slippers, don't you think?  But there was some\nexcuse for her--she _did_ want to be at home again.  It would be a\nlovely arrangement if those who love each other _could_ exchange dreams\nwhen they are parted for a time.  Some people say they do, and possibly\nthe dwarf poet believed it to be possible.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter X._]\n\nIt was a strange but beautiful underground world in which the dwarfs had\ntheir home.  Why _lava_ pavement?  Bee's lessons must have been\nfascinating.  If only we could all learn without books!  Then perhaps we\nalso should \"move with grace and express ourselves according to the rule\nof poetry.\"  What a delightful picture of a puppet show is given in this\nchapter!  There are clever men and women to-day who can make dolls act\nin this way.  Read the description again, for it is well worth while.\nWouldn't you like to play the theorbo?  It has a lovely name.  Did the\ndwarfs change as the days and months passed and the years made their\nround?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapters XI. and XII._]\n\nThe deep, deep darkness between the rocky walls makes the light shine\nall the brighter, and Bee's exclamation might be that of a blind girl\nwhose sight is suddenly restored.  Have you ever seen a chalice, a pyx,\nor a patin, and would you know them if you saw them again?  Or a\nthurible?  And wouldn't you like that set of moonstone chessmen?  What a\nwonderful description of a coffer full of jewels!  Yet, with all this\nwealth before her Bee chooses to go back to earth and into the sunshine\nback to her mother and George of the White Moor, more precious than\npearls.  Read again and again, nay, learn by heart what King Loc said to\nBee after he had tested her--for he was only testing her all the time.\nWas there ever such a proposal of marriage?  But little King Loc has his\nown dignity--also his hopes.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XIII._]\n\nWho would be a princess and wear a crown which interfered with flowing\nlocks and merry gambols?  The story-teller strikes a sad note.  Bee and\nthe little king are both unhappy and there is a pathetic and very\nbeautiful picture of the princess gazing on the sunbeam; another of her\narrival on earth again.  The king's instructions are difficult and there\nis danger in them.  The journey home is fascinating, reminding us of\nPeter and Wendy on the way to the Land of Lost Boys; so also is the\narrival home, which is fully described.  But the sad ending is told in a\nfew curt words.  It is much too pitiful for a long description.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XIV._]\n\nIs this story beginning to remind you of an old, old tale told long ago\namong the Ancient Greeks, a tale of a lost princess carried off to the\nUnderworld by Pluto and mourned on earth by Ceres, the goddess of the\ncorn?  If you happen to know that old, old story you will be able to\nmake interesting comparisons.  But to return to King Loc.  The secret\ncomes out. Did Bee know that she loved George of the White Moor when\nKing Loc had asked her, long before, whether she loved anyone else?\nHave _you_ known Bee's secret all along?  The effect of her declaration\nis rather piteous--with a smile behind the sadness.  King Loc's exit is\nvery dignified and dramatic and, by the way, what an excellent play\ncould be made from this story, or a series of tableaux.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XV._]\n\nPoor King Loc cannot understand the situation. He is a king, he has\nlearning, wealth, and merit. Why; therefore, does not Bee love him?\nFurther, he is good and wishes to be just.  Poor little King Loc!  Nur\nintroduces and describes himself in a speech worth learning and\nremembering.  His long speech about ourselves is full of wisdom and\nwarning.  Read it again and again. The last portion is very beautiful.\nAnd what a wonderful way the dwarfs had of finding things out without\nbooks.  George of the Moor was easily traced.  King Loc is very\nundwarflike or, let us say, very human when he learns where George is.\nBut would the laugh of these little creatures even in unison be a\n\"jovial great guffaw\"?  Surely it is only jolly giants who make great\nguffaws.  Perhaps you can describe the dwarf laughter in a better way.\nWhat do you think the writer means by making Nur live in a deep well?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XVI._]\n\nThere is an interesting glimpse of one of the duties of the dwarfs in\nthe first paragraph of this chapter.  Have you read Mrs. Ewing's\n_Lob-lie-by-the-Fire_?  If not, get it from the library and read about\nwhat one of our poets calls \"the lubber-fiend.\"  Dwarf madness seems to\nbe an amiable thing.  \"A shell of mother-of-pearl _irisated_.\"  Remember\nthat Iris was the Greek goddess of the rainbow.  George was no more\nhappy among the beauties of the sea-world than was Bee among the\ntreasures of the caves, and he learnt the same lesson as she did.  You\nwill find it in the sentence which begins: \"The years went by.\"  Compare\nKing Loc with the Princess of the Sylphs.  Achilles was the Greek hero\nwho fought against Troy and killed their champion, Hector.  Disguised as\na girl, he was once sent by his mother to the court of King Lycomedes\nbecause she wished to prevent his setting out for the Siege of Troy.\nTannhauser is the hero of the German story, who visited the court of\nVenus, the Goddess of Love, and there forgot everything but pleasure;\nbut later he repented.  The story is set to music in Wagner's opera.\nGeorge was not the first, nor the last, to be saved from slackness and\ninspired to deeds of courage by a book.  Compare his request to be set\nfree with that of Bee in a former part of the story.  What do you think\nabout Nur's opinion on science and poetry?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XVII._]\n\nWhat is the \"bezel\" of a ring?  And how would you like to go boating on\na petroleum lake?  There is a wonderful description of King Loc's\njourney through the sea cavern. Does it recall any piece of literature,\nprose or verse, song or story.  There is a good picture in the story of\nthe meeting of George and his rival. Aristotle was a Greek philosopher\nwho knew almost everything there was to be known.  If King Loc had\nbelonged to our time we should call him a \"sport.\"  But it was too much\nto hurl Bee's name at him without any preparation. On the whole the\nshadows of the story appear to be lifting in this chapter, don't they?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XVIII._]\n\nJohn's exclamation was not quite polite.  If he did not see a ghost he\nmight have guessed that it was an angel.  The people had given a natural\ncause for the disappearance of George, but explained Bee's absence in a\nmore wonderful and mysterious way, with a touch of poetry.  The\nhome-coming of George has various effects, according to the character of\nthe people he meets. Freeheart back again, too, and still at his old\ngame of \"making a song about it\"!  The light grows brighter and\nbrighter.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XIX._]\n\nIt was the common people who were expected to know all about the habits\nof the dwarfs. Glauce is good fun and a clever girl would love to act\nher part in a play; she is by no means unimportant in the story.  Cider\nadded to oats for a horse!  I wonder what Glauce meant by \"drinking\nfair\"?  And what the neighbours said afterwards about her late husband's\nstory?\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XX._]\n\nAn \"espadon\" must be a terrible weapon, judging by its name.  Avalon\nlies at the farthest verge of the western sea and is the last home of\nall good knights, including King Arthur:\n\n      The island-valley of Avilion;\n    Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,\n    Nor ever wind blows loudly: but it lies\n    Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns\n    And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea.\n\nAnd Thule is the northernmost land of all the world.  Freeheart's ideas\nof costume are quite original; but his notion of wine-inspired courage\nis not so praiseworthy.  He is, however, a better diplomatist than\nGeorge, and has a very charming way of telling the young lover that he\nhas been foolishly rude.  George's entry, reception, and meeting with\nlittle King Loc make a splendid moving picture.  Disappointment in love\nhas not soured the little king, but has made him something of a poet;\nand how gently he reproves the hot-headed George!  How kind George is,\ntoo, in the midst of his happiness.  And all ends in mock-heroics and\ngood fun.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chapter XXI._]\n\nThe last scene of all makes one long to have a play based upon this\nstory.  Who would not be proud to act King Loc and have such a lofty\nmind?  It would be difficult, of course, to get together such a wedding\npresent as he gave Bee, but the players could easily agree to play the\ngame of \"Let's pretend,\" as Shakespeare did when he hung up a card, on\nthe curtain, bearing the words, \"This is a wood.\"\n\n\nA true story?  Well---what is it all about?  It is a story of\nmother-love, child-love, and lover's love.  It is full of kindliness,\ncourage, gaiety, forgiveness, compassion, helpfulness, resource, and\nfortitude.  And these things have always been true, are true to-day and\nwill be true long, long after we all reach the \"island valley of\nAvilion.\"  So, what greater truth could we ask for?\n\n\nWe give here for purposes of enjoyment and comparison a prose story and\na poem, both of which tell the story of the Greek maiden who was carried\noff to the dark Underworld, but who, unlike Bee, became the bride of its\nking; also another story of dwarfs and their ways.\n\n\n\n\n                        *THE SORROW OF DEMETER*\n\n\nIn the fields of Enna, in the happy island of Sicily, the beautiful\nPersephone was playing with the girls who lived there with her.  She was\nthe daughter of the Lady Demeter, and every one loved them both; for\nDemeter was good and kind to all, and no one could be more gentle and\nmerry than Persephone.  She and her companions were gathering flowers\nfrom the field, to make crowns for their long flowing hair.  They had\npicked many roses and lilies and hyacinths which grew in clusters around\nthem, when Persephone thought she saw a splendid flower far off; and\naway she ran, as fast as she could, to get it.  It was a beautiful\nnarcissus, with a hundred heads springing from one stem; and the perfume\nwhich came from its flowers gladdened the broad heaven above, and the\nearth and sea around it. Eagerly Persephone stretched out her hand to\ntake this splendid prize, when the earth opened. and a chariot stood\nbefore her drawn by four coal-black horses; and in the chariot there was\na man with a dark and solemn face, which looked as though he could never\nsmile, and as though he had never been happy.  In a moment he got out of\nhis chariot, seized Persephone round the waist, and put her on the seat\nby his side.  Then he touched the horses with his whip, and they drew\nthe chariot down into the great gulf, and the earth closed over them\nagain.\n\nPresently the girls who had been playing with Persephone came up to the\nplace where the beautiful narcissus was growing; but they could not see\nher anywhere.  And they said, \"Here is the very flower which she ran to\npick, and there is no place here where she can be hiding.\"  Still for a\nlong time they searched for her through the fields of Enna; and when the\nevening was come, they went home to tell the Lady Demeter that they\ncould not tell what had become of Persephone.\n\nVery terrible was the sorrow of Demeter when she was told that her child\nwas lost.  She put a dark robe on her shoulders, and took a flaming\ntorch in her hand, and went over land and sea to look for Persephone.\nBut no one could tell her where she was gone.  When ten days were passed\nshe met Hekate, and asked her about her child; but Hekate said, \"I heard\nher voice, as she cried out when some one seized her; but I did not see\nit with my eyes, and so I know not where she is gone.\"  Then she went to\nHelios, and said to him, \"O Helios, tell me about my child.  Thou seest\neverything on the earth, sitting in the bright sun.\"  Then Helios said\nto Demeter, \"I pity thee for thy great sorrow, and I will tell thee the\ntruth.  It is Hades who has taken away Persephone to be his wife in the\ndark and gloomy land which lies beneath in the earth.\"\n\nThen the rage of Demeter was more terrible than her sorrow had been; and\nshe would not stay in the palace of Zeus, on the great Thessalian hill,\nbecause it was Zeus who had allowed Hades to take away Persephone.  So\nshe went down from Olympus, and wandered on a long way until she came to\nEleusis, just as the sun was going down into his golden cup behind the\ndark blue hills.  There Demeter sat down close to a fountain, where the\nwater bubbled out from the green turf and fell into a clear basin, over\nwhich some dark olive-trees spread their branches.\n\nJust then the daughters of Keleos, the king of Eleusis, came to the\nfountain with pitchers on their heads to draw water; and when they saw\nDemeter, they knew from her face that she must have some great grief;\nand they spoke kindly to her, and asked if they could do anything to\nhelp her.  Then she told them how she had lost and was searching for her\nchild; and they said, \"Come home and live with us: and our father and\nmother will give you everything that you can want, and do all that they\ncan to soothe your sorrow.\"  So Demeter went down to the house of\nKeleos, and she stayed there for a whole year.  And all this time,\nalthough the daughters of Keleos were very gentle and kind to her, she\nwent on mourning and weeping for Persephone. She never laughed or\nsmiled, and scarcely ever did she speak to any one, because of her great\ngrief.  And even the earth, and the things which grow on the earth,\nmourned for the sorrow which had come upon Demeter.  There was no fruit\nupon the trees, no corn came up in the fields, and no flowers blossomed\nin the gardens. And Zeus looked down from his high Thessalian hill, and\nsaw that everything must die unless he could soothe the grief and anger\nof Demeter. So he sent Hermes down to Hades, the dark and stern king, to\nbid him send Persephone to see her mother Demeter.  But before Hades let\nher go, he gave her a pomegranate to eat, because he did not wish her to\nstay away from him always, and he knew that she must come back if she\ntasted but one of the pomegranate seeds. Then the great chariot was\nbrought before the door of the palace, and Hermes touched with his whip\nthe coal-black horses, and away they went as swiftly as the wind, until\nthey came close to Eleusis.  Then Hermes left Persephone, and the\ncoal-black horses drew the chariot away again to the dark home of King\nHades.\n\nThe sun was sinking down in the sky when Hermes left Persephone, and as\nshe came near to the fountain she saw someone sitting near it in a long\nblack robe, and she knew that it must be her mother who still wept and\nmourned for her child.  And as Demeter heard the rustling of her dress,\nshe lifted up her face, and Persephone stood before her.\n\nThen the joy of Demeter was greater, as she clasped her daughter to her\nbreast, than her grief and her sorrow had been.  Again and again she\nheld Persephone in her arms, and asked her about all that had happened\nto her.  And she said, \"Now that you are come back to me, I shall never\nlet you go away again; Hades shall not have my child to live with him in\nhis dreary kingdom.\"  But Persephone said, \"It may not be so, my mother;\nI cannot stay with you always; for before Hermes brought me away to see\nyou, Hades gave me a pomegranate, and I have eaten some of the seeds;\nand after tasting the seed I must go back to him again when six months\nhave passed by.  And indeed, I am not afraid to go; for although Hades\nnever smiles or laughs, and everything in his palace is dark and gloomy,\nstill he is very kind to me: and I think that he feels almost happy\nsince I have been his wife.  But do not be sorry, my mother, for he has\npromised to let me come up and stay with you for six months in every\nyear, and the other six months I must spend with him in the land which\nlies beneath the earth.\"\n\nSo Demeter was comforted for her daughter Persephone, and the earth and\nall the things that grew in it felt that her anger and sorrow had passed\naway.  Once more the trees bore their fruits, the flowers spread out\ntheir sweet blossoms in the garden, and the golden corn waved like the\nsea under the soft summer breeze.  So the six months passed happily\naway, and then Hermes came with the coal-black horses to take Persephone\nto the dark land.  And she said to her mother, \"Do not weep much; the\ngloomy king whose wife I am is so kind to me that I cannot be really\nunhappy; and in six months more he will let me come to you again.\"  But\nstill, whenever the time came round for Persephone to go back to Hades,\nDemeter thought of the happy days when her child was a merry girl\nplaying with her companions and gathering the bright flowers in the\nbeautiful plains of Enna.\n\n\n\n\n                   *THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN*\n\n                      *FROM \"GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES\"*\n\n\nThere was once a merchant who had only one child, a son, that was very\nyoung, and barely able to run alone.  He had two richly laden ships then\nmaking a voyage upon the seas, in which he had embarked all his wealth,\nin the hope of making great gains, when the news came that both were\nlost.  Thus from being a rich man he became all at once so very poor\nthat nothing was left to him but one small plot of land; and there he\noften went in an evening to take his walk, and ease his mind of a little\nof his trouble.\n\nOne day, as he was roaming along in a brown study, thinking with no\ngreat comfort on what he had been and what he now was, and was like to\nbe, all on a sudden there stood before him a little rough-looking black\ndwarf.  \"Prithee, friend, why so sorrowful?\" said he to the merchant;\n\"what is it you take so deeply to heart?\" \"If you could do me any good I\nwould willingly tell you,\" said the merchant.  \"Who knows but I may?\"\nsaid the little man: \"tell me what ails you, and perhaps you will find I\nmay be of some use.\"  Then the merchant told him how all his wealth was\ngone to the bottom of the sea, and how he had nothing left but that\nlittle plot of land.  \"Oh! trouble not yourself about that,\" said the\ndwarf; \"only undertake to bring me here, twelve years hence, whatever\nmeets you first on your going home, and I will give you as much as you\nplease.\"  The merchant thought this was no great thing to ask; that it\nwould most likely be his dog or his cat, or something of that sort, but\nforgot his little boy Heinel; so he agreed to the bargain, and signed\nand sealed the bond to do what was asked of him.\n\nBut as he drew near home, his little boy was so glad to see him that he\ncrept behind him, and laid fast hold of his legs, and looked up in his\nface and laughed.  Then the father started, trembling with fear and\nhorror, and saw what it was that he had bound himself to do; but as no\ngold was come, he made himself easy, by thinking that it was only a joke\nthat the dwarf was playing him, and that, at any rate, when the money\ncame, he should see the bearer, and would not take it in.\n\nAbout a month afterwards he went upstairs into a lumber-room to look for\nsome old iron, that he might sell it and raise a little money; and\nthere, instead of his iron, he saw a large pile of gold lying on the\nfloor.  At the sight of this he was overjoyed, and forgetting all about\nhis son, went into trade again, and became a richer merchant than\nbefore.\n\nMeantime little Heinel grew up, and as the end of the twelve years drew\nnear the merchant began to call to mind his bond, and became very sad\nand thoughtful; so that care and sorrow were written upon his face.  The\nboy one day asked what was the matter, but his father would not tell for\nsome time; at last, however, he said that he had, without knowing it,\nsold him for gold to a little, ugly-looking, black dwarf, and that the\ntwelve years were coming round when he must keep his word.  Then Heinel\nsaid, \"Father, give yourself very little trouble about that; I shall be\ntoo much for the little man.\"\n\nWhen the time came, the father and son went out together to the place\nagreed upon: and the son drew a circle on the ground, and set himself\nand his father in the middle of it.  The little black dwarf soon came,\nand walked round and round about the circle, but could not find any way\nto get into it, and he either could not, or dared not, jump over it.  At\nlast the boy said to him, \"Have you anything to say to us, my friend, or\nwhat do you want?\"  Now Heinel had found a friend in a good fairy, that\nwas fond of him, and had told him what to do; for this fairy knew what\ngood luck was in store for him. \"Have you brought me what you said you\nwould?\" said the dwarf to the merchant.  The old man held his tongue,\nbut Heinel said again, \"What do you want here?\"  The dwarf said, \"I come\nto talk with your father, not with you.\"  \"You have cheated and taken in\nmy father,\" said the son; \"pray give him up his bond at once.\"  \"Fair\nand softly,\" said the little old man; \"right is right.  I have paid my\nmoney, and your father has had it, and spent it; so be so good as to let\nme have what I paid it for.\"  \"You must have my consent to that first,\"\nsaid Heinel; \"so please to step in here, and let us talk it over.\"  The\nold man grinned, and showed his teeth, as if he should have been very\nglad to get into the circle if he could.  Then at last, after a long\ntalk, they came to terms.  Heinel agreed that his father must give him\nup, and that so far the dwarf should have his way: but, on the other\nhand, the fairy had told Heinel what fortune was in store for him, if he\nfollowed his own course; and he did not choose to be given up to his\nhump-backed friend, who seemed so anxious for his company.\n\nSo, to make a sort of drawn battle of the matter, it was settled that\nHeinel should be put into an open boat, that lay on the sea-shore hard\nby; that the father should push him off with his own hand, and that he\nshould thus be set adrift, and left to the bad or good luck of wind and\nweather.  Then he took leave of his father, and set himself in the boat;\nbut before it got far off a wave struck it, and it fell with one side\nlow in the water, so the merchant thought that poor Heinel was lost, and\nwent home very sorrowful, while the dwarf went his way, thinking that at\nany rate he had had his revenge.\n\nThe boat, however, did not sink, for the good fairy took care of her\nfriend, and soon raised the boat up again, and it went safely on.  The\nyoung man sat safe within, till at length it ran ashore upon an unknown\nland.  As he jumped upon the shore he saw before him a beautiful castle,\nbut empty and dreary within, for it was enchanted.  \"Here,\" said he to\nhimself, \"must I find the prize the good fairy told me of.\"  So he once\nmore searched the whole palace through, till at last he found a white\nsnake, lying coiled up on a cushion in one of the chambers.\n\nNow the white snake was an enchanted princess; and she was very glad to\nsee him, and said, \"Are you at last come to set me free?  Twelve long\nyears have I waited here for the fairy to bring you hither as she\npromised, for you alone can save me.  This night twelve men will come:\ntheir faces will be black, and they will be dressed in chain armour.\nThey will ask what you do here, but give no answer; and let them do what\nthey will, beat, whip, pinch, prick, or torment you, bear all; only\nspeak not a word, and at twelve o'clock they must go away.  The second\nnight twelve others will come: and the third night twenty-four, who will\neven cut off your head; but at the twelfth hour of that night their\npower is gone, and I shall be free, and will come and bring you the\nwater of life, and will wash you with it, and bring you back to life and\nhealth.\"  And all came to pass as she had said; Heinel bore all, and\nspoke not a word; and the third night the princess came, and fell on his\nneck and kissed him.  Joy and gladness burst forth throughout the\ncastle, the wedding was celebrated, and he was crowned king of the\nGolden Mountain.\n\nThey lived together very happily, and the queen had a son.  And thus\neight years had passed over their heads, when the king thought of his\nfather; and he began to long to see him once again.  But the queen was\nagainst his going, and said, \"I know well that misfortunes will come\nupon us if you go.\"  However, he gave her no rest till she agreed.  At\nhis going away she gave him a wishing-ring, and said, \"Take this ring,\nand put it on your finger, whatever you wish it will bring you: only\npromise never to make use of it to bring me hence to your father's\nhouse.\"  Then he said he would do what she asked, and put the ring on\nhis finger, and wished himself near the town where his father lived.\n\nHeinel found himself at the gates in a moment; but the guards would not\nlet him go in, because he was so strangely clad.  So he went up to a\nneighbouring hill, where a shepherd dwelt, and borrowed his old frock,\nand thus passed unknown into the town.  When he came to his father's\nhouse, he said he was his son; but the merchant would not believe him,\nand said he had had but one son, his poor Heinel, who he knew was long\nsince dead: and as he was only dressed like a poor shepherd, he would\nnot even give him anything to eat.  The king, however, still vowed that\nhe was his son, and said, \"Is there no mark by which you would know me\nif I am really your son?\"  \"Yes,\" said his mother, \"our Heinel had a\nmark like a raspberry on his right arm.\"  Then he showed them the mark,\nand they knew that what he had said was true.\n\nHe next told them how he was king of the Golden Mountain, and was\nmarried to a princess, and had a son seven years old.  But the merchant\nsaid, \"That can never be true; he must be a fine king truly who travels\nabout in a shepherd's frock!\"  At this the son was vexed; and forgetting\nhis word, turned his ring, and wished for his queen and son.  In an\ninstant they stood before him; but the queen wept, and said he had\nbroken his word, and bad luck would follow. He did all he could to\nsoothe her, and she at last seemed to be appeased; but she was not so in\ntruth, and was only thinking how she should punish him.\n\nOne day he took her to walk with him out of the town, and showed her the\nspot where the boat was set adrift upon the wide waters.  Then he sat\nhimself down, and said, \"I am very much tired; sit by me, I will rest my\nhead in your lap, and sleep awhile.\"  As soon as he had fallen asleep,\nhowever, she drew the ring from his finger, and crept softly away, and\nwished herself and her son at home in their kingdom. And when he awoke\nhe found himself alone, and saw that the ring was gone from his finger.\n\"I can never go back to my father's house,\" said he, \"they would say I\nam a sorcerer: I will journey forth into the world, till I come again to\nmy kingdom.\"\n\nSo saying, he set out and travelled till he came to a hill, where three\ngiants were sharing their father's goods; and as they saw him pass, they\ncried out and said, \"Little men have sharp wits; he shall part the goods\nbetween us.\"  Now there was a sword, that cut off an enemy's head\nwhenever the wearer gave the words, \"Heads off!\" a cloak, that made the\nowner invisible, or gave him any form he pleased; and a pair of boots\nthat carried the wearer wherever he wished.  Heinel said they must first\nlet him try these wonderful things, then he might know how to set a\nvalue upon them.  Then they gave him the cloak, and he wished himself a\nfly, and in a moment he was a fly.  \"The cloak is very well,\" said he;\n\"now give me the sword.\"  \"No,\" said they; \"not unless you undertake not\nto say, 'Heads off!' for if you do, we are all dead men.\"  So they gave\nit him, charging him to try it on a tree.  He next asked for the boots\nalso; and the moment he had all three in his power, he wished himself at\nthe Golden Mountain; and there he was at once.  So the giants were left\nbehind with no goods to share or quarrel about.\n\nAs Heinel came near his castle he heard the sound of merry music; and\nthe people around told him that his queen was about to marry another\nhusband.  Then he threw his cloak around him, and passed through the\ncastle-hall, and placed himself by the side of his queen, where no one\nsaw him.  But when anything to eat was put upon her plate, he took it\naway and ate it himself; and when a glass of wine was handed to her, he\ntook it and drank it: and thus, though they kept on giving her meat and\ndrink, her plate and cup were always empty.\n\nUpon this fear and remorse came over her, and she went into her chamber\nalone, and sat there weeping; and he followed her there. \"Alas!\" said\nshe to herself, \"was I not once set free? why then does this enchantment\nstill seem to bind me?\"\n\n\"False and fickle one!\" said he, \"one indeed came who set thee free, and\nhe is now near thee again; but how have you used him? ought he to have\nhad such treatment from thee?\"  Then he went out and sent away the\ncompany, and said the wedding was at an end, for that he was come back\nto the kingdom.  But the princes, peers, and great men mocked at him.\nHowever, he would enter into no parley with them, but only asked them if\nthey would go in peace or not.  Then they turned upon him and tried to\nseize him; but he drew his sword; \"Heads off!\" cried he; and with the\nword, the traitors' heads fell before him, and Heinel was once more king\nof the Golden Mountain.\n\n\n\n\n                            *PERSEPHONE[1]*\n\n[1] In some forms of this story the maiden is called Proserpina and her\nmother Ceres.  Tennyson tells the story in his poem \"Demeter.\"\n\n\n                                   I\n\n    She stepped upon Sicilian grass,\n      Demeter's daughter, fresh and fair;\n    A child of light, a radiant lass,\n      And gamesome as the morning air.\n    The daffodils were fair to see,\n    They nodded lightly on the lea,\n    Persephone--Persephone!\n\n    Lo! one she marked of fairer growth\n      Than orchis or anemone:\n    For it the maiden left them both,\n      And parted from her company.\n    Drawn nigh she deemed it fairer still,\n    And stooped to gather by the rill\n    The daffodil, the daffodil.\n\n    What ailed the meadow that it shook?\n      What ailed the air of Sicily?\n    She wandered by the prattling brook,\n      And trembled with the trembling lea.\n    \"The coal-black horses rise--they rise:\n    O Mother, Mother!\" low she cries--\n    Persephone--Persephone!\n\n    \"O light, light, light!\" she cried, \"farewell;\n      The coal-black horses wait for me.\n    O shade of shades, where must I dwell,\n      Demeter, Mother, far from thee!\n    Ah, fated doom that I fulfil!\n    Ah, fateful flower beside the rill!\n    The daffodil, the daffodil!\"\n\n    What ails her that she comes not home?\n      Demeter seeks her far and wide,\n    And gloomy-browed doth ceaseless roam\n      From many a morn till eventide.\n    \"My life, immortal though it be,\n    Is nought,\" she cried, \"for want of thee,\n    Persephone--Persephone!\"\n\n    \"Meadows of Enna, let the rain\n      No longer drop to feed your rills,\n    Nor dew refresh the fields again,\n      With all their nodding daffodils!\n    Fade, fade and droop, O lilied lea,\n    Where thou, dear heart, wast reft from me--\n    Persephone--Persephone!\"\n\n\n                                   II\n\n    She reigns upon her dusky throne,\n      'Mid shades of heroes dread to see;\n    Among the dead she breathes alone,\n      Persephone--Persephone!\n    Or seated on the Elysian hill\n    She dreams of earthly daylight still,\n    And murmurs of the daffodil.\n\n    A voice in Hades soundeth clear,\n      The shadows mourn and flit below;\n    It cries--\"Thou Lord of Hades, hear,\n      And let Demeter's daughter go.\n    The tender corn upon the lea\n    Droops in her golden gloom when she\n    Cries for her lost Persephone.\n\n    \"From land to land she raging flies,\n      The green fruit falleth in her wake,\n    And harvest fields beneath her eyes\n      To earth the grain unripened shake.\n    Arise and set the maiden free;\n    Why should the world such sorrow dree[2]\n    By reason of Persephone?\"\n\n[2] _Dree_ means endure or bear.\n\n    He takes the cleft pomegranate seeds,\n      \"Love, eat with me this parting day;\"\n    Then bids them fetch the coal-black steeds--\n      \"Demeter's daughter, wouldst away?\"\n    The gates of Hades set her free;\n    \"She will return full soon,\" saith he--\n    \"My wife, my wife Persephone.\"\n\n    Low laughs the dark king on his throne--\n      \"I gave her of pomegranate seeds;\"\n    Demeter's daughter stands alone\n      Upon the fair Eleusian meads.\n    Her mother meets her.  \"Hail!\" saith she;\n    \"And doth our daylight dazzle thee,\n    My love, my child Persephone?\n\n    \"What moved thee, daughter, to forsake\n      Thy fellow-maids that fatal morn,\n    And give thy dark lord power to take\n      Thee living to his realm forlorn?\"\n    Her lips reply without her will,\n    As one address who slumbereth still--\n    \"The daffodil, the daffodil!\"\n\n    Her eyelids droop with light oppressed,\n      And sunny wafts that round her stir,\n    Her cheek is on her mother's breast,\n      Demeter's kisses comfort her.\n    Calm Queen of Hades, art thou she\n    Who stepped so lightly on the lea--\n    Persephone, Persephone?\n\n    When, in her destined course, the moon\n      Meets the deep shadow of this world,\n    And labouring on doth seem to swoon\n      Through awful wastes of dimness whirled--\n    Emerged at length, no trace hath she\n    Of that dark hour of destiny,\n    Still silvery sweet--Persephone.\n\n    The greater world may near the less,\n      And draw it through her weltering shade,\n    But not one biding trace impress\n      Of all the darkness that she made;\n    The greater soul that draweth thee\n    Hath left his shadow plain to see\n    On thy fair face, Persephone!\n\n    Demeter sighs, but sure 'tis well\n      The wife should love her destiny;\n    They part, and yet, as legends tell,\n      She mourns her lost Persephone;\n    While chant the maids of Enna still--\n    \"O fateful flower, beside the rill--\n    The daffodil, the daffodil!\"\n\n    JEAN INGELOW (1820-89).\n\n\n\n\n                    *THE WRITER OF THE STORY OF BEE*\n\n\nThe best way to learn something about the author of _Bee_ is to study\nwith care the portrait given as the frontispiece of this book.  You\nshall form your own opinion of the man from the artist's drawing and\nthat opinion will depend greatly upon the amount of enjoyment and the\nnumber of ideas you have got from his story.\n\nHis name is sufficient guide to his nationality, and you will know by\neasy guesswork that you have been reading a translation of his tale; but\nthe change from French to English is so well made that not much is lost\nof the charm of the story as Anatole France wrote it.  The best way to\njudge his work is, of course, to read it in French.\n\nAnatole France is not, like Hans Andersen, a recognised fairy-tale\nwriter, which from our point of view seems a pity, because he has the\nlight touch which does not crush the gossamer or brush the dust from the\nwings of the butterfly. It is of no use having a heavy touch if you are\ndealing with things like Queen Mab's Wagon.\n\n    Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs.\n    The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,\n    Her traces of the smallest spider's web,\n    Her whip of crickets' bone, the lash of film;\n\n    Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,\n    Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut\n    Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,\n    Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers.\n\n\nOne of our own writers, John Ruskin, wrote one fairy tale called _The\nKing of the Golden River_, and the rest of his writings, like those of\nAnatole France, were for grown-up readers. There are some people who\nthink that Ruskin's fairy tale is one of the best of its kind ever\nwritten, and _Bee: the Princess of the Dwarfs_ is quite worthy to stand\nbeside it.  You may care to compare the two in matters of detail and\nstyle, and will find the work very interesting indeed; and you will\nremember that it is quite fair to compare these two stories, for they\nwere both _invented_ or \"made-up\" by their authors all out of their own\nheads.\n\nMost of the old fairy tales, like Cinderella, seem to have grown like\nthe cabbages, or, shall we say, the roses.  They have been told again\nand again by one person after another as the years rolled by and they\nwere well known before anyone set them down in print.  In a sense, _Bee_\nand _The King of the Golden River_ are not true fairy tales, but you\nwill agree that they are very good imitations of the old models.\n\nAnatole France, whose real surname is Thibault, was the son of a\nbookseller in Paris, and was born so long ago as 1844.  He was brought\nup among books and among clever men who came to his father's shop not\nonly to buy books but to discuss them.  It is not surprising that when\nhe grew up he should begin to write books.\n\nAs for his thoughts about things in general, you will find them all in\nthe pages of _Bee: the Princess of the Dwarfs_.\n\n\n\n                            THE TEMPLE PRESS\n                           LETCHWORTH ENGLAND","title":"Bee: The Princess of the Dwarfs","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":29240}