{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_76391/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_76391","id":"gutenberg_76391","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76391","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories, American","Courts and courtiers -- Juvenile fiction","Fairies -- Juvenile fiction","Magic -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"FAIRY DREAMS.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                             FAIRY DREAMS;\n                                  OR,\n                        WANDERINGS IN ELF-LAND.\n\n                                  BY\n                            JANE G. AUSTIN.\n\n                          With illustrations,\n                         BY HAMMATT BILLINGS.\n\n                                BOSTON:\n                       J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY.\n\n\n\n\n      Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by\n                       J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY,\n              In the Clerk\u2019s Office of the District Court\n                   of the District of Massachusetts.\n\n                              CAMBRIDGE:\n                   Allen and Farnham, Electrotypers.\n\n                              PRINTED BY\n                         GEO. C. RAND & AVERY.\n\n\n\n\n                               CONTENTS\n\n  PRINCE RUDOLF\u2019S FLOWER                     9\n\n  K\u00d6NIG TOLV\u2019S BRIDE                        50\n\n  THE GRAY CAT AND THE CAVE OF THE WINDS    86\n\n  THE FROST-MAIDEN                         134\n\n  UNDER THE SEA                            156\n\n  THE CASTLE ON THE CLIFF                  197\n\n\n\n\n                        PRINCE RUDOLF\u2019S FLOWER\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe palace clock with twelve sonorous peals announced the hour of noon;\nand as the last vibrating echo died away, King Merowald entered the\naudience-chamber and seated himself upon the throne, looking around\nupon the nobles and courtiers who stood about him.\n\n\u201cIs there any among you who would ask a boon of the king?\u201d inquired he,\nin a gracious voice.\n\nA short pause ensued, and then from the lower end of the hall, a\nhandsome, graceful youth approached quickly and knelt upon one knee\nbefore the throne.\n\nThe aged king bent forward with a movement of surprise; the glittering\ncrowd of courtiers rustled their silken garments for a moment, and each\nmoved a step forward, and then a breathless silence filled that vast\nchamber; for the graceful youth kneeling so humbly there, his arms\ncrossed, his head bowed low upon his breast, was Rudolf, the only and\nwell-beloved son of the monarch before whom he knelt.\n\nThe silence was broken by the tremulous voice of the old king.\n\n\u201cMy son, what seek you?\u201d asked he.\n\n\u201cA boon, my gracious lord and father.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what?\u201d inquired again the king.\n\n\u201cI ask permission, my father, to go out into the world to seek the\nflower of which I have dreamed, and which alone can make me happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the flower, my son?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, dear father, I cannot tell; the dream has fled, and I can\nneither recall the form, the color, or the name of this exquisite\nblossom, although if I should find it, I should certainly recognize it,\nand without it I cannot live.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo first, my son,\u201d said the king, after a long pause, \u201cto Althoso,\nand ask his advice. If he bid you go, I will not refuse my consent.\u201d\n\nPrince Rudolf rose, and, bowing low, left the audience-chamber.\nPassing through several long corridors and galleries, he arrived at a\nlow-arched door and knocked loudly.\n\nThe door was presently opened by a short, crooked little man, with an\nenormous hump upon his back, who, twisting his head so as to look up\ninto the prince\u2019s face, croaked out:\n\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s the handsome prince to-day, is it? Well, well, they all have\nto come to us.\u201d\n\nPrince Rudolf paid no attention to the ugly dwarf, but mounted rapidly\nthe steep, winding stairs which lay before him, until he arrived at\nanother door similar to that he had just passed. Here again he knocked,\nbut this time softly, and almost timidly.\n\n\u201cWho is there?\u201d asked a deep voice.\n\n\u201cPrince Rudolf,\u201d replied the young man.\n\nThe heavy door swung slowly open. \u201cEnter, prince,\u201d replied the voice;\nand Rudolf obeying, found himself in a small room, crowded with books,\ndrawings, and papers.\n\nAt one side glowed a charcoal furnace, over which, in an iron pan, some\nstrange compound was bubbling. Various utensils and preparations were\nscattered near it, as if the prince\u2019s entrance had interrupted in some\nimportant operation the old man who stood in the middle of the little\nroom, his long purple gown wrapped about him, and his dark eyes fixed\nupon the face of the visitor.\n\n\u201cAnd what does Prince Rudolf seek of me?\u201d asked he, at length.\n\n\u201cMy father has sent me to ask your advice, wise Althoso,\u201d replied the\nprince. \u201cFor seven nights have I dreamed of a lovely flower, which,\nwhile I hold it, fills my whole soul with joy; but when I awake, I can\nno longer remember the name of the flower, nor its form, color, or\nperfume; yet should I see it, I should at once know it. Can you tell\nme, O wise Althoso! the name or the home of this blossom, without which\nI must surely die?\u201d\n\nThe old man smiled sadly and shook his head. \u201cPrince,\u201d said he, \u201cif you\nwould value the flower, you must seek it for yourself. Could I give it\nto you, or tell you where to find it, you would not value it an hour.\nGo out into the wide world and seek it, but stop--you may not know your\nflower among all you will find in the world, although you think so\nnow. Here is a white veil which I prepared for you, knowing that you\nwould come to me, and here is a spear with a diamond point. When you\nhave found a flower which you think may be yours, throw the veil over\nit; if the veil remains white and whole, leave it there till you have\nslept, then pluck the flower and bring it home. But should the veil\nshow itself soiled or rent, there is not your flower; seize the veil\nand fly. Should you be detained by enchantments which you cannot break\nthrough, use your diamond pointed spear: before it every charm will\nfall. Now go, my son, and leave me to my labors.\u201d\n\nThe old man turned to his furnace as he spoke, and began stirring the\nmixture in the iron pan, which presently sent up a hot, stinging vapor,\nwhich filled the whole room.\n\nSeizing the glistening white veil and the sharp, strong lance which lay\nupon the table, Rudolf ran down the stairs past the dwarf, who opened\nthe door, and, hastening to his own chamber, packed in a knapsack a\nfew clothes, and the picture of his mother, who had died when he was\nan infant. Then as the palace clock struck one, the prince entered the\napartment of his father, who had soon returned to it from the hall of\naudience.\n\nRudolf, kneeling again before him, told him of the words of Althoso;\nshowed him the veil and the spear, and besought his father\u2019s blessing\nand permission to set out.\n\nThese the old king bestowed upon him, not without tears; and, wiping\nhis own eyes, Rudolf kissed his father\u2019s hand, and descended to the\nstables, where he called for his own horse, Sunbeam, and springing upon\nhis back, rode bravely out into the world.\n\nMany days prince Rudolf travelled, and many lovely flowers did he see,\nboth wild by the roadside, and carefully sheltered in gardens; but none\nof these for a moment made him think of the flower of his dream, and he\nwas growing very sad and discouraged, when, one sultry summer noon, he\nfound himself in a large forest, through which wound a smooth, pleasant\nroad, along which Sunbeam trotted gayly, his little hoofs making no\nsound upon the thick, soft turf.\n\nAll at once through the dusky shadows, which even in the brightest\nday brooded among those giant trees, the prince caught a glimpse of\nsomething shining dimly, which reminded him of the bright gardens which\nhe had passed through on previous days.\n\nDismounting, and tying Sunbeam to a tree, so that he could reach the\nsweet grass which grew all about, prince Rudolf, taking his spear in\nhis hand, pushed aside the underwood which barred his progress, and\nmade his way toward the dimly seen object which had attracted him.\n\nFor a short distance, the forest was almost impenetrable. High, stiff\nshrubs, growing closely together, impeded him on every side; and at\nthe end of half an hour, prince Rudolf paused, hot and weary, and half\nresolved to give up the attempt. Just then, however, he perceived a\nnarrow but well-defined path opening at his feet, and leading in the\ndirection of these glowing flowers. Following this eagerly, the prince\nin a few moments found himself before an arched gateway, surmounted by\na gorgeous wreath of tulips of every possible color, and fresh as if\njust placed there. The entrance was barred by the thick, sword-like\nleaves of the plant, which were thickly interlaced across the opening,\nwhile the woody stalks, growing to an immense size and height, formed\nthe framework of the portal.\n\nThe prince stood for a moment looking at this singular and beautiful\ngate, and longing to enter, when, to his great surprise, the sword\nleaves bent gracefully to the ground, and seemed to invite him to pass\nthrough the portal thus opened.\n\nThe gay young prince entered with a beating heart, and the leaves\nclosed immediately behind him.\n\nBefore him lay a path strewn thickly with gold, and glittering and\nflashing in the sun, while on each side extended a large and beautiful\ngarden, divided by golden paths like that which he was treading. Every\nbed was thickly set with gorgeous blossoms, but the prince observed\nwith astonishment that there were no flowers but tulips; double and\nsingle, small and large, of every tint and variety, but still all\ntulips. Standing quite still in the midst of this collection, prince\nRudolf looked about him for a gardener, of whom he could make some\ninquiries. No one was to be seen: on the borders of the immense garden\nrose the gloomy and impenetrable forest, looking more sullen and\nforbidding from its contrast with the flashing, gorgeous colors of the\nflowers and the gold-strewn paths.\n\nAt the farthest extremity of the garden was a sort of grove of a\ncertain variety of the tulip, growing to a size perfectly prodigious,\nand surrounding and overshadowing what appeared to be a summer-house\nor arbor. Toward this the prince now hastened, hoping to find at last\nsome owner of this glowing garden; but on penetrating the circle of\ntree-like stems, he paused in utter astonishment, for what he supposed\na building was in reality an immense tulip as large as a small room,\nplucked from its stem and turned upside down, so that it formed a sort\nof tent, the curtains of which were the velvety petals of the flower,\ngayly striped with scarlet and gold.\n\nPrince Rudolf stood for a moment, as I have said, lost in astonishment;\nthen lifting the edge of one of the curtains, soft and thick as velvet,\nhe entered with some hesitation this strange pavilion. At first he\ncould distinguish nothing clearly in the dim light which found its way\nthrough the thick curtains; but presently he perceived that he stood\nbeside a straight and polished column of gold, which with five others\nupheld the tent, and answered to the stamens of an ordinary tulip. To\nthe pistil of the plant was attached a petal of a very small tulip,\nwhich waved constantly backward and forward, causing a gentle breeze,\nwhich softly fanned away the sultriness of the heated air.\n\nDirectly under this fan was heaped up a mass of tulip petals, making a\ndelightfully soft and elastic couch, upon which reclined gracefully the\nmost beautiful maiden whom Rudolf had ever beheld. Her rich, dark hair,\ncombed straight back from her white forehead, was thickly powdered with\ngold dust, and formed into a crown upon the top of her head, around\nwhich was a wreath of small tulips of a brilliant crimson, streaked and\nsplashed with gold: her large, sleepy brown eyes were fixed upon the\nface of the young prince, while her full scarlet lips smiled a welcome\nto the handsome youth. Her dress, which left bare her lovely shoulders\nand round, dimpled arms, was of the same glowing, gorgeous colors as\nthe drapery of her tent, and everywhere upon it glittered the gold dust\nwhich powdered her hair.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cO the lovely flower! O my tulip queen!\u201d whispered Rudolf, sinking\nupon his knee. The tulip maiden said not a word, but only smiled\nmore lovingly, and fixed more earnestly her great eyes upon those of\nthe prince, as she sat upright upon the couch, making her gorgeous\ngold-sprinkled robe flash and glitter as she moved.\n\n\u201cO queenly tulip! will you come with me and be the flower of my life?\u201d\nwhispered the prince, rising and moving timidly toward her.\n\nStill the maiden spoke not; only moved gracefully forward as a flower\nupon its stem.\n\n\u201cThus then I make you mine,\u201d exclaimed Rudolf, drawing from his breast\nthe magic veil, and throwing it over the head of the maiden.\n\nBut no sooner had the pure white tissue touched the dark and glowing\nhair, than it became smirched and soiled, and the maiden fell back\nupon her couch of petals, which now looked withered, broken, and\ndecaying; her rich robe showed that it was soiled and rent in many\nplaces; her pure white skin was covered with blotches and pimples, and\nthe delicate color of her cheeks deepened to a swarthy, lurid red; her\nlanguid eyes lost all their beauty, and glowed with a sullen fire;\nher graceful figure lost its elasticity, and instead of soft repose,\nexpressed only a careless indolence and slothful abandonment. The air\ngrew suffocating with a heavy perfume, so powerful as to be quite\nnauseous.\n\nPrince Rudolf gazed a moment in horror; then, snatching the veil now\nlimp and soiled, he rushed from the pavilion. But outside all seemed\nchanged. The golden paths appeared to writhe about like great serpents,\ntwisting themselves together, and utterly bewildering him who tried to\nfollow them: all the millions of tulips in the flower beds were nodding\nand waving distractedly upon their stems, clashing their stiff leaves\ntogether, till the air seemed filled with the threatening music of an\napproaching army.\n\nFor a few moments, Prince Rudolf rushed at random hither and thither,\nbackward and forward, round and round, but without making the least\nprogress toward the gate. Suddenly remembering the spear which the Sage\nAlthoso had given him, and which he had all this time carried fastened\nto his belt without thinking of it, he drew it and struck furiously all\nabout him, at the paths, the beds, and the warlike tulips.\n\nImmediately every thing resumed its former condition, and became\nbeautiful and quiet as when the prince first entered the garden.\nHastening along the now stationary path, Rudolf soon found himself\nbefore the entrance gate. But the stiff leaves did not now yield\nbefore him; on the contrary, turning their sharp edges toward him, one\nclose above the other, they presented an impenetrable barrier. Rudolf\nlaughing, touched them with the point of his spear, and instantly they\ndrooped, languid and broken upon their stems.\n\nThe prince leaped through, and found himself again in the wild forest,\nbut all trace of a path had disappeared; and the bewildered youth might\nhave exhausted himself in useless struggles, had not the loud neighing\nof Sunbeam, who had become very impatient, directed the prince to the\nplace where he had left him. Again mounting his horse, Rudolf rode\nslowly on, thinking deeply of what he had just seen. Taking the veil\nfrom his breast, he regarded it sorrowfully, thinking it quite ruined;\nbut, to his surprise, it was fresh and pure as when Althoso first gave\nit to him. \u201cThanks, dear veil,\u201d murmured the prince, replacing it in\nhis bosom; and, fixing his eyes vacantly upon Sunbeam\u2019s head, he again\nrode on many a long mile, till the stopping of the horse caused him to\nlook around.\n\nTo his great surprise he found himself in a dense jungle. The very\ntrees were different from any thing he had seen before. Oaks, walnuts,\nand birches had disappeared, and instead, on every side, rose the\nstately palm, the graceful banana, and the gigantic ferns of the\ntropics. Around and among these trees climbed flaunting vines, loaded\nwith scarlet flowers, while innumerable birds of the most gorgeous\nplumage, but of harsh and startling note, flitted about, looking like\nflying blossoms from the drooping vines.\n\nSunbeam had stopped in the centre of a little open space, shaded by the\nnodding heads of the palms; and the creepers, which had leaped across\nfrom side to side, forming a living canopy to this little glade. On\nevery side further progress was stopped by the dense foliage, except\none little path just wide enough for the prince to pass, but not for\nSunbeam. Leaving the horse, who neighed uneasily at seeing his master\ndisappear, Rudolf entered the narrow path, which was bordered on each\nside by immense vines of the cactus plant interlacing themselves\noverhead, and so loaded with flowers that not a stem or thorn was\nvisible. The pathway was illuminated, and the fiery hue of the flowers\nexhibited by the light of myriads of fireflies who flitted in every\ndirection, now darting into the royal purple heart of a speciocissimus;\nnow poising themselves on the pink corolla of a truncatus, now bending\nlightly the silvery stamens of a gloriosus, and then settling upon the\ntangled curls of the prince\u2019s head. All at once the path ended at the\nentrance of a glade, similar to that which he had first entered; only\nin this, the very ground was covered with cactus blossoms, placed so\nclosely together as to leave no trace of earth or vine visible, and\nforming a carpet such as no weaver on earth could equal. All around the\nsides and overhead climbed the vines and swung the blossoms, screamed\nthe birds, and flitted the fireflies.\n\nAs prince Rudolf stood entranced at the entrance of this flower palace,\nhe was saluted by a shower of silvery pollen, which was thrown in his\nface and all over him, while a loud peal of shrill laughter made him\nwipe his eyes and look hastily round. Just above his head, in a loop of\nthe strong vine, he saw a slender figure clad in a gauzy green dress,\ntrimmed round the skirt and neck with a border of scarlet blossoms, a\nwreath of which also crowned the long, dark hair which flowed loosely\nabout her pliant form and encircled her slender waist.\n\nHolding the vine lightly with one hand, the laughing, teasing girl\nstripped from the blossoms near her the silvery pollen, and dashed it\nin the upturned face of the prince, who, entering into the frolic with\nthe thoughtless gayety of a boy, pelted her in turn with whole handfuls\nof flowers which he stripped from the vines near him, at first\ncarefully through fear of the thorns, but more recklessly when he\nperceived, that, instead of standing out from the stem, these obliging\nspines folded themselves close down upon it, and thus were perfectly\nharmless. At last, Rudolf began to pursue the laughing, mocking\nmaiden up and down the ladder-like vines, sometimes almost grasping\nher fluttering robe, then seeing her place herself at one bound far\nbeyond his reach, only to peep laughingly out at him from her flowery\nhiding-place. At last, weary and hopeless of success, prince Rudolf\ndescended to the ground, and, throwing himself upon the flower carpet,\npretended to be asleep.\n\nSoon he perceived by a light crackling of the branches that the\ngreen-robed maiden was also descending and approaching him. Presently,\nthrough his half-closed eyes, he could distinguish her flitting about\nher gleaming bower, until at last she threw herself down also to repose\nafter the mad chase.\n\nTaking carefully from his bosom the gauzy veil, the prince silently\napproached the maiden, who now slept, or at least pretended to, and\nwith a sudden movement threw it over her graceful figure.\n\nThe effect, though different, was as startling as with the tulip\nprincess. From the wreath upon her head, from the girdle about her\nwaist, from the borders of her robe, sharp, piercing thorns projected\nin every direction, rending and tearing the poor veil into tatters,\nwhile the closed eyes of the maiden flew open to emit rays of furious\nanger, while her full red lips curved themselves into a scornful,\nwithering smile; and with those pretty fingers, which had so\ngracefully thrown flowers at the prince, but which were now armed each\nwith a long, claw-like talon, she sought to rend away the veil, which\nembarrassed her motions, that she might rush upon the astonished youth.\n\nRudolf did not wait for her to free herself, but, seizing a fragment\nof the veil, he turned and rushed into the flowery passage, which was\nnow dark and gloomy, for the fireflies had all hidden themselves; and\nfrom between the gay flowers at the sides, overhead, and underfoot,\nlong thorns projected venomously, and would have entirely stopped any\nprogress on the part of the prince, had he not laid about on every side\nwith his spear, and thus succeeded, though not without the greatest\ndifficulty, in regaining the spot where he had left Sunbeam, whom he\nfound surrounded by furious parrots, macaws, and other tropical birds,\nwho, flinging themselves at him, hit him with their long beaks, and\ntore him with their talons, so that the poor creature\u2019s cries filled\nthe whole forest.\n\nWith great difficulty and by the free use of his spear, Rudolf\nsucceeded in driving them away, and then, perceiving a slight opening\nin the jungle, he threw himself into it; and finally, just as the last\nrays of daylight were dying away, he and Sunbeam found themselves,\nfaint, weary, and exhausted, torn with thorns and wounded by fierce\nbirds, once more upon the turfy road, which they had so unfortunately\nquitted. Taking some food and a little silver cup from his wallet,\nthe prince threw himself upon the ground beside a cool spring, whose\ntrickling music had betrayed its vicinity, and, having eaten, drank,\nand bathed, pillowed his head upon Sunbeam\u2019s shoulder, and slept\npeacefully all through the night.\n\nWith the first blush of morning, prince Rudolf arose and refreshed\nhimself with a simple repast, and a long draught of water from the\nlittle rivulet, whose icy coldness in that sultry summer weather\nmuch surprised him. \u201cI will follow the stream a little way, and see\nwhence it draws this pure, cold water, while poor Sunbeam finishes his\nbreakfast.\u201d\n\nMurmuring these words half aloud, the prince fastened the bridle in\nsuch a manner that the horse should have full liberty to graze, yet be\nprevented from escaping, and proceeded slowly along the bank of the\nlittle stream, which, murmuring and complaining, grew more and more\nnarrow, and tempted the youth from one bend to another, by promising\nto diminish to its fountainhead within a short distance.\n\nAt last, just as Rudolf, somewhat vexed at his frequent\ndisappointments, was about to turn back, a gleam of some large object\nlike a house shone through the trees in the rays of the rising sun, and\nthe prince hastened to turn a sharp, projecting bend of the stream,\nto see more clearly what this white building could be in the lonely\nforest. As he turned the angle of the stream he started in astonishment.\n\nClose beside the fountain of the rivulet rose a white marble pavilion,\nits slender columns sculptured to represent lily stems, with the\nflowers rising as a wreath about the light and graceful roof.\n\nIn the centre of the marble floor stood a chair and footstool, also of\nmarble, and seated upon it, as upon a throne, was a fair and stately\nwoman, upright and immovable, her abundant flaxen hair braided and\ncarried about her head in the form of a crown, which seemed indeed a\nfar more fitting ornament to her queenly beauty than a simple wreath.\nHer robe was of a stiff, white silk, embroidered with gold thread;\nupon her arms and throat were golden ornaments set with pearls; in\nher beautiful hand, white and cold as marble, she held as a sceptre a\nmagnificent lily, fit emblem of her queenly beauty.\n\nRudolf gazed silently a few moments in admiration of that fair and\nsovereign face; then, seeing that her cold blue eyes did not turn\ntoward him, he ventured to steal softly up behind her and to throw over\nthat regal head the magic veil.\n\nFor a moment there was no change; then, as the prince gazed eagerly\nyet half regretfully at the proud, handsome face beneath the folds, and\nwondered if his search was over, a slight shudder passed through that\nmotionless form; the faint rose tinge faded utterly from the cheek and\nlip; the pale blue eyes lost all color; the hair became white as the\nbrow it surrounded, and, where Rudolf had found a stately queen, he now\nbeheld only a marble statue.\n\nAs he gazed horror stricken, the veil, stiffening as if frozen, broke\nin two pieces, and with a light, tinkling sound fell upon the marble\nfloor.\n\nAlready a death chill ran through the veins of the young prince, and\nhe was on the point of sinking down lifeless at the feet of the marble\nlily queen, when with a strong effort he snatched the veil from the\nfloor, and hastened as quickly as his torpid limbs would allow from\nthat icy throne. Pursuing again the windings of the brook, he soon\nreached the side of his good horse, and, mounting hastily, put him to\nhis speed. For a considerable time he continued his journey without\nmeeting with any adventure of importance; but it so happened one\nday, as he was dreaming of his father\u2019s court and of what they would\nsay to his adventures, that he seemed suddenly enveloped in a soft\nand fragrant air, while his ears were greeted with the warblings of\nhundreds of merry little birds.\n\nTurning suddenly, he perceived a wide and gently ascending path leading\noff from the main road. Down this path came the soft gush of perfume\nand music which had aroused him.\n\nAgain did the prince find himself overshadowed with festooning vines;\nbut this time they were roses, which peeped and nodded to him at every\nturn, roses whose soft petals fluttered down upon his head and carpeted\nhis path, while their delicate fragrance filled the air. Roses of every\nhue and degree; white, blush pink and deepest crimson, single roses and\ndouble roses, climbing roses and tree roses, moss roses and thornless\nroses; every rose that ever bloomed on this round earth clustered along\nthat pathway, each crowding before its neighbor to look at the handsome\nprince, and nod a joyous welcome to him.\n\nDismounting from his horse and holding his plumed cap in his hand,\nRudolf walked slowly along the path, hoping, at every turn, to find\nthe divinity of this rose Eden. Nor had he long to look, for as the\npath, making a sudden turn, came to an end, Rudolf saw before him a\nbower formed by two graceful birches, which, arching toward each other,\nsupported, the one a white, the other a crimson climbing rose, which,\nin their riotous luxuriance, having clothed every twig of the bending\nbirches with their blossoms, and interlaced above, waved exultingly in\nthe air their graceful, verdant limbs, as if to boast triumphantly of\nhaving overcome every obstacle.\n\nUpon a gently sloping bank beneath this odorous canopy reclined a\ngraceful maiden, clothed in a pure white robe, her golden hair curling\nloosely about her snow-white shoulders, and her blue eyes gently\nbeaming with love and purity. A few moss-rose buds nestling at her\nbosom, and a slender garland of wild roses about her head, were her\nonly ornaments. Upon her finger sat a ring-dove, to whose plaintive\ncooing the maiden replied with soft caresses. A pair of humming-birds\nbuzzed about her head, plunging their dagger-like bills into the roses\nof her garland, while a honey-bee loaded himself with sweets from the\nbuds at her bosom. All about her feet bloomed the wild roses, and a\ntall bush of sweetbriar nodded caressingly over her fair head.\n\nPrince Rudolf gazed eagerly at the beautiful picture for a moment, then\nthrew himself at the feet of the rose sylph.\n\n\u201cO flower of my dream!\u201d murmured he, \u201chave I at last found you? Art\nthou the rose I sought? Wilt thou leave thy bower to bloom for me only?\nShall thy perfume and thy sweets be for my home and my people?\u201d\n\nThe maiden said never a word, only her fair head drooped lower and\nlower, and she hid her blushing face in her slender hands.\n\nGently and carefully the prince threw over that sunny head the magic\nveil, which again was fair and whole as the day he received it, but,\noh sad and disappointing result! beneath the gauzy folds no longer was\nvisible the graceful form of a blushing maid, but only a slender bush\ncrowned with one lovely blush rose, its yellow stamens the color of the\nmaiden\u2019s hair.\n\nGrieved and disappointed, Rudolf stood regarding the transformation.\nSuddenly he remembered the words of the wise Althoso: \u201cIf the veil\nremains white and whole, leave it there till you have slept, then pluck\nthe flower and bring it home.\u201d\n\nWhite and whole the veil certainly was; and throwing himself upon the\nground, Rudolf resolutely closed his eyes, nor did he open them till\nthe hum of the birds and bees, the warmth of the summer morning, and\nthe stillness of the spot, had granted him the sleep he so longed for.\n\nIt was not, however, long, and the sun had not yet reached his height,\nwhen Rudolf opening his eyes, started eagerly to his feet, and turned\nto look at the rose.\n\nThere it stood as he had left it;--a lovely rose, yet nothing but a\nrose.\n\nRudolf stood sadly before it, half resolved to pluck the flower from\nits tree and try to rest content with that, when a sudden thought\nflashed across his mind, and seizing his diamond spear, with its point\nhe gently touched the rose-bush.\n\nThe effect was instantaneous. In the spot where a moment before had\nstood only a silent plant, Rudolf beheld with delight the slender\nfigure of his rose maiden, her yellow hair circled with a garland of\nwhite moss buds, beneath which flowed the silvery folds of the veil,\nshading but not concealing the faint blush of her cheeks and the deep\nblue of her starry eyes, which timidly sought the ground.\n\n\u201cO my rose! O my lovely, long-sought flower!\u201d cried the prince, seizing\nher soft, white hand.\n\n\u201cCome, my Rose, my Rosa Munda, my flower of the whole earth! come to\nbloom forever in my garden; to be cherished forever in my heart.\u201d\n\nThe Rose drooped gently forward. The prince, taking her in his arms,\nplaced her upon Sunbeam\u2019s back, mounted behind her, and with joyous,\nloving hearts, they journeyed back to his father\u2019s court, where, for\nvery many long and happy years, the beauty of the gentle Rose made all\naround her happy and contented.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                          K\u00d6NIG TOLV\u2019S BRIDE\n\n[Illustration]\n\nFar in the depths of the wild and gloomy forests of the Hartz mountains\nstood a little hut, where dwelt the charcoal-burner, Karl Gatz and his\ndaughter Mabel.\n\nAlone they dwelt for years before Mabel\u2019s gentle mother had faded from\nearth, chilled to death perhaps by the stern, morose husband, to whom\nher parents had given her. She died, and one summer morning Gatz made\na grave for her, beneath the huge blasted pine which towered above his\ncabin, and then returned to his charcoal burning with no difference\nexcept, perhaps, an added gloom and silence in his wayward manner.\n\nLittle Mabel was never a joyous child; how should she be, when the tall\nblasted pine brooded over her home, and her father, who seemed the\nembodied spirit of the tree, threw as gloomy and baleful a shade over\nher young heart.\n\nFrom whence rose the cloud which shadowed all the life of these two,\nno one knew; but the few poor peasants and mountain dwellers, who\nalone had heard or cared to talk of so obscure a person, whispered\nstrange stories of a man with whom Karl Gatz had quarrelled, and who\nhad gone up the mountain to claim some money which the charcoal-burner\nowed him, and never returned. There were no friends or relatives to\nmake inquiries into his fate, and the few who knew of the circumstance\nshrugged their shoulders and said, \u201cIt is no concern of ours. If a fool\nputs his head under the bear\u2019s paw, must we run to pull him away?\u201d So\nno one ever asked what had become of Johan Brenner, but all agreed that\nfrom that day the black and never lifting cloud had settled close and\nthick upon the brow and heart of Karl Gatz.\n\nOne would have thought that under this dark and poison-dripping shade\nall pure and lovely things must have withered and died as had the\ncharcoal-burner\u2019s wife, but never in sunniest _parterre_ or most\nlovingly cared for flower plot had bloomed a fairer, sweeter, more\nsky-like flower than the dreamy Mabel. Light and gracefully moulded\nas the fawn, fair and delicate as the wild anemone, her blue eyes had\ngazed at heaven until they had caught its purest light, and the sun had\ngiven his own rays to sparkle in her wavy tresses.\n\nBetween the father and daughter there could be but little sympathy or\nlove. The eyes of the silent man bent earthward, and had never marked\nthe wondrous beauty which the slow, sad years were unfolding in his\ndark and lonely hut, nor had he once met the sad, appealing looks,\nwhich, in the gloomy days since her mother died, the heart of the\nlove-longing maiden cast toward the only parent left her. He never\nlooked up, and the thirsty, fainting heart sadly turned away and lived\nthereafter in its own loneliness.\n\nMabel had often been with her mother to the convent in the valley,\nwhere the poor woman went to confess her fancied sins, and to comfort\nher yearning heart by hearing of the love which is for all mankind, but\nis seldom truly valued save by such as, like her, are stimulated by\nearthly affliction.\n\nWhile the mother prayed and wept, the little Mabel wandered, like a\ngleam of summer through the vaulted corridors, and shone by turns into\nall the narrow, tomblike cells.\n\nThe poor nuns, shut out from life and love, gladly welcomed this sweet,\nfresh presence, beaming with joy and freedom; and many a sister did\npenance on aching knees, for cherishing, through one wild moment, the\nwish that she had been an earthly bride, and clasped a child like this\nto a mother\u2019s heart.\n\nFinding how much the little maiden longed to be able to read and write,\ngood old sister Ursula offered to teach her, and found herself amply\nrewarded by the warm, tearful smile with which the glad child kissed\nher withered hand.\n\nAn apt and eager scholar did Mabel prove; and in the year which\nfollowed, she learned to read and write with fluency and ease, and\nwas able to repay her kind old instructress for her pains by reading\nin a sweet, hushed voice, those tender, loving promises and solemn,\nthrilling aspirations, which filled the volumes of the scanty library,\nand which the dim and fading eyes of sister Ursula could no longer\ndistinguish but with pain and uncertainty.\n\nLittle Mabel took great delight in these readings, and she longed to\nhave a book of her own, that she might pursue her studies at home.\nExpressing this wish one day at the convent, sister Benedicta, with\nthe consent of the Lady Superior, gave her a copy of the mangled and\ncorrupted edition of the Holy Book, prepared for convents and the\nCatholic use, while the Fraulein von Rosenberg, one of the noble young\nladies who boarded and were educated at the convent, called her to the\ndormitory, and, producing from her trunk a little worn volume, she gave\nit to her saying,\n\n\u201cSo much religion and so many pious works are truly very edifying, dear\nlittle one, but I think, for my part, it will do you no harm to read a\nlittle of something more amusing; so take this volume of fairy tales,\nwhich I have all by heart, and put it into the bosom of your frock.\u201d\n\nMabel\u2019s eyes sparkled like stars, with delight and gratitude, but\npausing as she was concealing the little book as directed, she said,\n\n\u201cBut why shall I hide your gift, dear Fraulein? If it is right that I\nshould have it, all may see it.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, little saint!\u201d said the young lady angrily; but pausing a\nmoment, she kissed the child\u2019s pure brow, and said, \u201cyou are right,\nlittle one, and I am wrong,--go show the book to your mother and do as\nshe says about keeping it.\u201d\n\nMabel\u2019s mother did not object to the child\u2019s receiving the little book,\nnor did she think it necessary to mention it to any of the sisterhood,\nknowing that she should thereby bring the gay young Fraulein into\ndisgrace; so Mabel kept the book, and while the sad and silent mother\nspun or sewed in the summer sunshine or by the winter\u2019s fire, the child\nsat on a low stool by her side, reading in her clear, sweet voice,\nstories of the graceful little fairies, who dance through the long,\nbright summer nights; of the crooked, swarthy gnomes who forever pile\nup riches which they can never enjoy, in the gloomy mountain caverns;\nof the fair and graceful Undines who frolic in the mountain streams\nand broad, rolling rivers; of the wood-nymphs, whose slender, supple\nfigures animate the graceful, waving trees, and whisper to each other\nin the evening breezes.\n\nBut chief among all these wonders was the dreamy child impressed with\nthe story of King Tolv, who, every midsummer night, rides, at speed,\nwith all his gallant retinue, through lonely woods and mountain gorges,\nand if in his wild career he should meet a pure and spotless maiden,\nher he seizes for his bride and queen, in his glowing, golden palace,\ndeep in the green hill-side.\n\nMany an hour did Mabel peer about in the wild thickets and among the\ngrotesquely piled rocks which lay about her home, to find the entrance\nto that fairy palace, for the story said that it was in the Hartz\nMountains that he always disappeared, and the mountain of K\u00f6ningsberg,\non which the charcoal-burner lived, was the highest, the wildest, and\nthe most goblin-haunted of all the pine-clad peaks.\n\nEither, however, Mabel did not look in the right spot, or King Tolv\nhad so cunningly concealed the entrance to his abode that she passed\nwithout noticing it, for she never could find it; and before she had\ndone looking for it the deep snows of winter, and then her mother\u2019s\nlong, fading illness and death, chased such things from her mind, and\nfilled her heart with such deep sorrow and hopeless loneliness that\nshe thought no more of K\u00f6nig Tolv or her other goblin friends, but\nturned, with a heart thankful to the kind old nun, who had put the key\nof consolation in her hand, to the sublime promises and comforting\nwords of Holy Writ, the living beauty of which not even the garbled and\nimperfect form in which the Catholic Church presents it to her children\ncan wholly disguise.\n\nMabel read and prayed, and wept the long winter months away, making\nfrom time to time vain efforts to find the way to her father\u2019s heart,\nmore securely hidden than even the hill-side door to K\u00f6nig Tolv\u2019s\ngolden palace.\n\nAt last she gave up the search, and contented herself with providing\nfor her father\u2019s comfort, as well as she could, and praying, night and\nmorning, to the Holy Virgin and all the saints to turn toward her that\nstony heart, and show her the way to gain the love of the only one left\non earth to whom she could turn for affection and comfort.\n\nSo passed the long, chill winter; but when the cold, deep snow had\nturned to fresh young grass, and trees which all winter had clashed\ntheir bare brown arms against each other as in the vain attempt to keep\nwarm, had put on their new green dresses, and the wood-nymphs had begun\nto whisper again among their leaves, then Mabel once more wandered\nforth and found among the spring flowers her own old sadly joyous\ndreams and fancies. Again she took the book of fairy tales from the\nshelf, where it had lain undisturbed ever since the last time she had\nread to her mother, sitting on the little footstool by her side. Again\nshe read, and now with a deeper and more thrilling interest than ever,\nthe legend of K\u00f6nig Tolv.\n\n\u201cTo be loved,\u201d murmured she, sitting by the leaping, laughing mountain\nstream, the book upon her knees, and her soft, dreamy eyes fixed upon\nthe distant turrets of the old gray castle of Wolfsmarchen, which rose\non the far horizon, \u201cTo be loved even by K\u00f6nig Tolv--ah, what joy!\nTruly it would not be so hard a fate to meet him beneath the midsummer\nmoon, and be borne away to dance and laugh and love within his golden\nhalls! Who is there but my father for me to love on earth? and were I\nK\u00f6nig Tolv\u2019s bride I could come at night and leave gifts of gold and\njewels on his pillow, which would more than make up to him for all that\nhe would lose in me;\u201d and as she admitted to her heart the dreary truth\nthat gold was fairer and dearer to her father\u2019s heart than his own\nchild, great pearly drops rose slowly to her thoughtful eyes, and fell\nplashing upon the open book.\n\nMabel rose, and went slowly home to prepare the evening meal. That\nover, and the hut restored to what order was possible with its extreme\npoverty, the maiden bid a timid good-night to her father, who sat,\nas usual, smoking his evening pipe in morose silence. She received\nno answer, and though she expected none, she sighed heavily as she\nclosed the door of the little closet which her mother had persuaded\nKarl, years before, to partition off from the common room, that her\ndaughter might not, for want of privacy, lose the sensitive modesty\nwhich is to a woman what the dew-drop is to the rose, the bloom to the\ngrape, as great a charm while it remains as impossible to replace, once\ncarelessly brushed off.\n\nMabel dreamed that she was the loved and loving bride of King Tolv. She\nsat with him upon a bank thickly set with new and beautiful flowers,\nas is the sky with stars upon a frosty night. Before them wheeled and\nglided elves and fairies dancing to music which made glad the hearts\nof all who heard it; in her ear whispered her fairy lover words whose\nintoxicating sweetness still thrilled the maiden\u2019s heart as she slowly\nawoke, with a vague sense of regret to find herself alone in the smoky\nlittle mountain cabin.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThat day she renewed her old search for the hidden door, which should\nopen to her that joyous scene which filled her heart with such wild\nlonging, but still the mystic gate evaded her most earnest search. The\nnext night and the next her dream was renewed, and as she awoke on the\nthird morning the thought flashed across her mind that midsummer night\nwas fast approaching, and that by meeting King Tolv on his midnight\nride she could learn the way to his palace home without further trouble\nof her own. \u201cAnd if I should not like him,\u201d whispered she to herself,\n\u201cI can easily steal away and come home, and all will be as before.\u201d\n\nThis wild thought dwelt in Mabel\u2019s mind day after day; her father, to\nwhom added years brought but added gloom, evidently cared nothing for\nher presence or absence. The only notice he had taken of her since\nher mother\u2019s death was to forbid her visits to the convent since she\nhad delivered a message from the Mother, warning him that unless he\nattended mass and confession his soul stood in imminent peril. When\nMabel tremblingly repeated these unwelcome words, Karl Gatz turned for\na moment his gloomy eyes upon her, and bid her, if she would ever see\nhis face again, to cease from that day her visits to the good sisters,\nwhom he designated by a word that puzzled, while it instinctively\nshocked, the pure and unsullied mind of his daughter.\n\nThe dreamy, balmy summer days swept on all too fast for the hesitating,\nirresolute girl. One day she renounced her scheme, the next it again\nfilled all her heart. So midsummer day came, and through the long,\nsunny hours Mabel could not trust herself to the soft influences of her\nfavorite haunts, but in the intervals of unaccustomed labor she knelt\nand wept and prayed beside her little bed.\n\nAs daylight faded, she threw herself, without undressing, upon her rude\npillow, and soon slept soundly.\n\nAs her eyelids fell, the old dream sunk down on her spirit more vivid,\nmore sweet and tempting, than ever before. She woke, and, gliding to\nher little window, looked out. The night had not yet reached its noon,\nalthough the round-orbed moon rode high in the heavens.\n\nThe stillness in the outer room was proof that Karl Gatz had, as\nwas often his wont, stayed all night in the forest, where lay his\nemployment.\n\nMurmuring a fervent prayer, Mabel threw her mother\u2019s bridal veil over\nher head and glided out into the moonlight, looking like one of the\nfair and gentle spirits of whom she loved to read.\n\nRapidly, yet with trembling steps, the maiden pursued her way to the\nspot where, two roads crossing each other upon the mountain side, a\ncross had been erected, that the devout might pause to pray and rest\nupon the bench at its foot.\n\nArriving here, the trembling girl sunk upon her knees at the foot of\nthe cross, half resolved to fly while yet there was time, and half\nreluctant to lose forever the fulfilment of that fair dream.\n\nWhile still she lingered, her light form swayed by each contending\nimpulse as sways the bird upon the waving tree-top, her fate was\ndeciding the question, for suddenly the clatter of horses\u2019 feet,\ndescending the mountain road, smote upon her ear, and, making a\nconvulsive effort to rise and fly, she sunk senseless at the foot of\nthe cross, and lay in the moonlight still and white as a wreath of\nnew-fallen snow.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen Mabel again opened her eyes a few moments after, she at first\nthought that she was dreaming of the beloved and familiar scene, for\nover her bent the earnest, handsome face of a young man, who, as her\neyes opened, launched into them the look of admiration, love, and\nrespect which had so often filled her heart.\n\nAs Mabel\u2019s eyes fell, however, upon the horses standing beside her\nand the old stone cross above her head, she remembered her position,\nand recollected that the last sound which had met her ears was the\napproaching clatter of horses\u2019 feet.\n\nWith a blush deep as guilt, she sprang to her feet, and covering her\nglowing face with her hands she murmured,\n\n\u201cTake pity, O King Tolv! Pardon and suffer me to leave you!\u201d\n\nShe did not look up as she spoke to see the puzzled expression in\nthe face of the fairy king giving place, suddenly, to a look of\nenlightenment and merry joy. He did not speak, and Mabel, her eyes\nstill cast down, turned to depart.\n\n\u201cHold, maiden!\u201d exclaimed a rich and sonorous voice, \u201cwhere wouldst\nthou go?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo my father\u2019s hut, most noble king.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy name, child?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Mabel, the daughter of Karl Gatz the charcoal-burner; and my\nfather will, e\u2019er now, be wondering at my absence.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, maiden,\u201d returned the stranger, gently taking her slender hand\nin his, \u201cthou art no longer his daughter, but the bride of King Tolv.\nDidst thou not know, fairest, that when he meets beneath the midsummer\nmoon a maiden fair and pure as thou, carries her to his own home, to\nreign for ever queen of him and his?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut heaven? My soul?\u201d murmured the trembling girl.\n\n\u201cThou shalt be wedded by a man of God (thou seest I can pronounce\nthat sacred name), and the benediction of heaven shall rest upon our\nheads. Thou knowest, dear Mabel, the hermit who makes his dwelling in a\nmountain cave near by?\u201d\n\n\u201cFather Franz--I know and love him,\u201d murmured Mabel in a half reassured\nvoice.\n\n\u201cThen, if he will bless our union, wilt thou be content, sweet one?\u201d\nasked the lover, in a voice sweet and low as the dream-voice of King\nTolv.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d faltered the maiden, and in another moment found herself borne\nswiftly upon the back of the goblin horse up the mountain road.\nArrived at the nearest point of the path to the hermit\u2019s cave, King\nTolv checked the fiery steed, and, lifting Mabel from his back, led her\ntenderly along the rugged and barely discernible footpath which led up\nto the mountain summit. Weary and breathless they reached the cave,\nwhere Mabel had often been to carry the aged hermit little delicacies\nfor his table, and to hear his words of holy cheer.\n\nPlacing her upon the rude stone seat just without the grotto, the\nmajestic lover once more took the maiden\u2019s hand and said solemnly,\n\n\u201cMabel, wilt thou promise, as thou art a pure and stainless maiden, to\nbe my bride?\u201d\n\nUnfalteringly Mabel raised her clear eyes to the noble face which bent\ntoward her with a heart-searching gaze.\n\n\u201cI will, if the holy man says it is no sin,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cWait here then, _liebe_, till I bring him,\u201d said the lover in a\nlighter and more joyous tone.\n\nMabel sat many minutes on the stone bench, and heard the round, manly\ntones of her bridegroom alternating with the more feeble, solemn voice\nof the aged priest in an earnest conversation, of which, however, no\ndistinct words reached her ear.\n\nAt last, priest and king stepped out into the rich, full moonlight, and\nMabel, even at that moment of anxiety and agitation, felt a thrill of\nadmiration as she noted the tall, manly figure and open, handsome face\nof her lover. Then her eye fell upon the mild, benign face of Father\nFranz, and her heart leaped for joy as she saw by his calm, benevolent\nsmile and serene expression, as he laid his hand upon her head, in\nsilent benediction that he was not displeased at the proposed union.\n\n\u201cAnd may I be King Tolv\u2019s bride, and yet remain a daughter of the\nChurch?\u201d whispered she falteringly.\n\n\u201cYou may wed your noble suitor without sin or fear, daughter,\u201d\nresponded the priest, with a smile more nearly approaching humor than\nMabel had ever seen before on his calm and thoughtful face; \u201cand,\u201d he\nadded, \u201cthy power of serving holy Mother Church will be far greater as\nhis wife than it could be in thy present estate.\u201d\n\nThe Latin ceremony was solemnly performed, the nuptial benediction\nspoken; and Mabel, half bewildered, felt a warm kiss pressed upon her\nlips, never touched before save by her mother\u2019s mild caress.\n\n\u201cIt is not fitting, dearest love,\u201d said the young husband, \u201cthat thou\nshouldst enter thy future home thus alone and unattended. Return for a\nfew hours to thy father\u2019s house, and when the day which now is dawning\nhas reached its noon, stand there by the cross where first I saw thee,\nand King Tolv will come with his retinue to carry his fair and gentle\nqueen to her new home.\u201d\n\n\u201cI myself will leave thy wife at her father\u2019s door, most noble king,\u201d\nsaid the hermit, with a half smile. \u201cBusiness takes me to the monastery\nin the valley, and I shall not reach there before sunrise if I set\nforth now.\u201d\n\nAs Father Franz went into his cave to make his simple preparations, the\nbridegroom followed him. A whispered conversation ensued, and as they\nagain issued forth Mabel heard the holy father say,--\n\n\u201cI will surely be there, mein Herr.\u201d\n\nKing Tolv tenderly supported his trembling bride down the steep\nmountain path, and then, with one more fond kiss upon her quivering\nlips, he sprang upon his fiery steed and was gone.\n\nWhen next the mid-day sun looked down upon the old oak shading the\nlonely cross, his rays, struggling through the envious leaves, fell\nin flecks of ardent light upon the white clad figure of the maiden\nbride, supplying with their golden sheen the lack of those ornaments\nwhich indeed, had they been formed of aught less pure than the eternal\nradiance of the sun, would have rather dimmed than added to the\nwondrous loveliness of the expectant bride.\n\nAgain, as Mabel listened, the sound of horses\u2019 feet came thrilling upon\nher ear; but now the horses were many, and the sound of wheels mingled\nwith their tread. They came, too, up the road from the valley; but ere\nMabel had time to doubt, a glad burst of music fell upon her ear, and a\nnumber of horsemen, riding two and two, each with a bridal favor upon\nhis arm, appeared surrounding a carriage, which, to the timid eyes\nof the bride, far outshone all that she had read of in fairy land. A\nband of music followed playing a joyful bridal march, and within the\ncarriage, radiant and smiling, sat King Tolv, clad in a rich dress,\nwhose sparkling jewels and heavy embroidery gave him a still more noble\nand commanding air than he had worn the night before in his simple\nhunting suit of russet brown.\n\nAs the carriage stopped, the bridegroom sprang to the ground, and\ntaking the cold and trembling fingers of Mabel in his own, he turned\nto the retainers who stood about them, saying:\n\n\u201cBehold my bride, and your future mistress.\u201d\n\nOne by one the horsemen passed before the shrinking yet graceful girl,\nmaking a low obeisance and saying:\n\n\u201cHail to our noble Mistress!\u201d\n\nWhen all had passed, King Tolv led his bride to the carriage, and,\nplacing her in it, seated himself by her side. So ardent were his\nwhispered promises of love and tender praises of her beauty, that the\nblushing, agitated girl did not once raise her eyes from the floor at\nher feet till the carriage suddenly stopped, and, glancing hastily up,\nMabel found herself in the court-yard of a castle, in whose open door\nstood a beautiful and magnificently dressed lady. A servant opened\nthe door of the carriage, and the bridegroom descending, handed out\nhis bride, and led her up the steps to where the fair lady stood, then\nexchanging his soft, lover-like tones for a voice clear, sonorous, and\ngrave, he said:\n\n\u201cMy dear sister, and you my faithful retainers. I have brought home to\nyou my wife whom you now see; beautiful and good she is already; and\nthat she may be as happy as she deserves shall henceforth be my aim,\nand I trust yours also.\u201d\n\nThe crowd which filled the court-yard shouted, with willing zeal, \u201cJoy\nto our noble Graff and his lovely Graffin.\u201d\n\nThe fair and noble lady who stood on the threshold clasped Mabel in a\nwarm embrace, while she whispered,\n\n\u201cAh, little one! you studied well the little book I gave you years ago.\u201d\n\nLooking up with a startled look, Mabel recognized the Fraulein von\nRosenberg who had in the cloister given her the little volume where\nfirst she read of K\u00f6nig Tolv, and who now stood watching her with\nlaughing eyes.\n\nMabel turned to her husband, but he silenced her with a grave smile,\nand, turning again to his people, said,\n\n\u201cMy wife and I have already been married in a private manner; but that\nyou, my children, may be witnesses of my happiness, the same priest\nwill now perform a more public ceremony, and then we will sit down to\nthe marriage feast.\u201d\n\nThen, taking Mabel by the hand, while his noble sister walked by the\nside of the bride, the Graff von Rosenberg led the way to the great\nhall of the castle, where stood Father Franz in his solemn robes of\noffice, and by his side, as assistant, one of the brethren of the\nneighboring monastery.\n\nThe solemn ordinance proceeded, and the simple Mabel found herself the\nwife of Fredrich von Rosenberg, Count of Wolfsmarchen.\n\n\u201cBut K\u00f6nig Tolv?\u201d whispered she, as her husband sat beside her, at the\nhead of the long table.\n\n\u201cShall never have my Mabel for his bride,\u201d was the whispered response.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nKarl Gatz was informed, the same day, of his daughter\u2019s marriage, by\nthe hermit, who was also charged to inquire in what way his son-in-law\ncould serve him.\n\n\u201cBy keeping out of my way,\u201d was his only reply; and when Mabel, a few\ndays after, went with her husband to renew their offers, they found the\nhut deserted, the charcoal pit extinguished, and no trace remaining of\nthe late owner, nor from that day were tidings ever heard of Karl Gatz,\nalthough the mountaineers scrupled not to say, that, being deserted by\nhis guardian angel, Mabel, the devil had claimed his own.\n\nNo such scandal, however, reached the ear of Mabel, who, in the warmth\nand light of her love-crowned life, bloomed into such exuberance of\nloveliness as astonished those who had thought her perfect before.\n\n                    \u201cAnd a tender consort made he,\n                    And her gentle mind was such\n                    That she grew a noble lady,\n                    And the people loved her much.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                THE GRAY CAT AND THE CAVE OF THE WINDS\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOnce upon a time there was a young man named Ernest, who lived all\nalone in a little hut upon the sea-shore. He had lived there ever since\nhe could remember, and always alone, except when, in summer, some\nwandering traveller would stop at his hut to ask a night\u2019s lodging or a\nsupper or dinner, or when the fierce storms of winter had twice driven\na ship upon the rocks which lay between him and the sea, and a few poor\nhalf-drowned sailors had been cast upon the beach, where they would\nsoon have perished had it not been for Ernest\u2019s ready aid.\n\nFrom these and the travellers the youth heard many stories of the\ngreat world, its wonders and its pleasures, and several times his\nvisitors had invited him to go with them and see the marvels which they\ndescribed; but Ernest always shook his head, saying,\n\n\u201cNo, no, I have no place in this great world of yours; nobody would\nknow or care for me. Here I have friends on every side; the loons, the\ngulls, the wild geese, and the ospreys know me and like me. I think\neven the waves feel acquainted with me, and I know that the fish do.\nNo, I will stay.\u201d\n\nSo the tourists and the sailors went their way, and Ernest remained\nalone.\n\nAt last a whole year went by, and brought no visitors. Autumn, winter,\nspring, and summer passed, and autumn had come again, without a single\nword having broken the silence which reigned about the little hut. No\nvoice but the solemn ocean murmur.\n\nAt first Ernest liked this, and dreaded the arrival of a stranger;\nbut by-and-by he began to wonder why no one came, and then to look\nlongingly up and down the beach and out to sea, in hopes to see some\none, but he looked in vain.\n\nAt last, when the pleasant summer was quite gone, and the cold and\ndreary autumn winds began to blow, lashing the sea into foam and\nwhistling drearily down the chimney of the little hut, Ernest grew very\nsad and discontented. He roamed uneasily up and down the beach, but\nnever could make up his mind to leave it and turn his steps inland, and\nalways at night he found himself back at his little cabin.\n\nOne night, when the winds and the waves together were making such a din\nand commotion that one could hardly have heard a cannon at a quarter\nof a mile\u2019s distance, Ernest sat gloomily alone brooding over his\ndriftwood fire, which danced and flickered uneasily as the draughts\nfrom door or windows fanned it. Ernest had no clock or watch, nor\nwould he have known the use of it if he had; but after sitting quite\nmotionless for a long time staring at the fire, which now was almost\nout, he began to feel as if it was bedtime, and was wearily rising\nfrom his chair to look out once more at the night, when from the window\nbehind him he heard a faint and prolonged\n\n\u201cM-e-w!\u201d\n\nTurning hurriedly about, Ernest ran to the window and threw it open,\nupon which, with a pleased and grateful purr, a beautiful gray cat\nstepped upon the table which stood beneath the window, and, looking in\nthe young man\u2019s wondering face, remarked again,\n\n\u201cM-e-w!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou said that before, but I don\u2019t know what it means,\u201d said Ernest\ngayly, who, although he had never seen a real cat, had heard them\ndescribed and had seen pictures of them, so he at once guessed what his\nvisitor was, and was well pleased that at last he had a companion.\n\n\u201cLet me see; perhaps \u2018w\u2019 means fish,\u201d continued he, going to a shelf in\nthe corner, which served him for a pantry, and taking a wooden platter\nwith the remains of a broiled fish upon it. This he set upon the table\nin front of the gray cat, who, first rubbing herself with a melodious\npurr against his hand, applied herself to the fish, and daintily eat\nsome of the best pieces, then drank a little water which Ernest offered\nher with an apology for having no milk to give, which he said he had\nheard ladies of her degree were very fond of. \u201cBut,\u201d as he said, \u201csince\nI not only have no milk, but never saw it, or even the cows and goats\nwhich give it, I am very glad to see that your highness can drink\nwater.\u201d\n\nThe cat, having finished her meal, leaped softly to the floor, and,\nafter walking slowly round the room, looking attentively at every\nthing in it, she sprang gracefully into Ernest\u2019s arm-chair (which was\nindeed the only chair in the whole house), and, seating herself upright\nin the middle of the cushion, began to wash her face and paws with her\nlittle red tongue.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s right, my queen, don\u2019t be ceremonious,\u201d said Ernest, laughing\naloud. \u201cTo be sure you have left me nothing to sit on except this log\nof wood, but then you are company, and should have the best. Pray make\nyourself entirely at home. I am very sorry I have no fine napkin to\noffer you to wipe those pretty paws upon now that you have washed them,\nbut perhaps you can dry them by the fire. Let me make it up.\u201d\n\nSo Ernest threw some more wood upon the fire; and then, seating himself\nupon a great block in the opposite chimney corner, leaned his elbows\nupon his knees and took an attentive survey of his visitor, who, having\ncompleted her toilet, sat regarding the fire with half-closed eyes,\npurring softly a little tune of her own composition, and beating time\nwith her long tail.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nShe was a very pretty cat, with fur of a rich dark gray, except her\npaws and face, which were pure white, and a crown or circle about her\nhead, of an indescribable glittering appearance. It was this crown-like\ncircle which had induced Ernest to call her highness and queen.\n\nAfter looking at her a while, the young man reached across the fire,\nand, taking the cat gently up, placed her in his lap and began to\nsmoothe her rich fur and fondle her, but in spite of all his endeavors\nto hold her, Pussy glided from his grasp, and with noiseless leap\nregained her position in the easy-chair.\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t like familiarity--mustn\u2019t be handled, eh?\u201d said Ernest.\n\u201cYour majesty is very unkind, I think; but perhaps when we are better\nacquainted----\u201d\n\nErnest stopped thunderstruck. It was just twelve o\u2019clock, although he\ndid not know it; and at the moment when the clock, had there been one,\nwould have struck the hour, a cloud of golden sparks rose from the\ncirclet upon the cat\u2019s head and filled the whole room, so that Ernest\nclosed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.\n\nIn a moment, however, he looked up and rubbed his eyes. The flaming\nsparks no longer blinded him, but still he doubted his own sight, for\nthere before him, there where a moment before he had seen the gray\ncat, he now beheld, seated in his old arm-chair, as if on a throne,\na beautiful and majestic woman, in the first bloom of youth and\nloveliness.\n\nHer long, wide dress, which flowed upon the ground at each side, was a\nrich, soft velvet of a beautiful silver-gray color, and from its loose\nsleeves and beneath its hem peeped the smallest and whitest of hands\nand feet. The beautiful face was surrounded by long, dark hair, and in\na circle about the head was the glittering, crown-like appearance which\nErnest had noticed on the cat\u2019s head. It did not seem of any substance,\nlike gold, for instance, but merely light and color. The large,\nlight-colored eyes of the beautiful stranger were fixed anxiously upon\nErnest, as if waiting for him to speak.\n\nAt last he stammered out:\n\n\u201cAre you--can it be--but it was a cat!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it was a cat,\u201d replied the sweetest voice in the world, \u201cbut it\nwas also me, Ernest. I am the princess Phelia, only daughter of the\nking of Catland. All my race have the privilege of assuming at will the\nhuman form or the cat form. The nobility and royalty generally appear\nas men and women, only assuming the cat form in play or as a disguise;\nbut vast numbers of our subjects of the inferior order retain the cat\nform altogether, and as such live unsuspected among men.\n\n\u201cAs for me, I never was degraded from the human form until in an\nunhappy hour I wandered from my father\u2019s kingdom into that of our\nneighbor, the Gold King. Here I met his daughter Oriphera, who is an\nenchantress, and of a very bad disposition. She hated me beside,\nbecause she had heard that I was more beautiful than she. So snatching\nfrom my head the crown which I always wore as a badge of my rank, she\nthrew some water in my face and said:\n\n\u201c\u2018Take your cat form, you miserable Pussy, and retain it for the rest\nof your life, except during the half hour between twelve and one\no\u2019clock on Halloween. You never shall be released from this spell\nunless you can find a young man twenty-five years of age, who has never\nlooked on woman\u2019s face, although free to go wherever he chooses, and\nwho shall be able to take from me this crown, and replace it on your\nhead before two years from this day.\u2019\n\n\u201cAs she finished she threw some more water upon me (I never\n_could_ bear to be wet), and with a mew of grief and anger I ran\naway as fast as I could go. Of course I could not present myself at\nmy father\u2019s court in such a disguise,--I, who had always taken pride\nin being as un-cat-like in my demeanor as possible; and so I wandered\nuneasily about the world, looking for the wonderful youth, who,\nalthough at perfect liberty to do so, had never looked upon a woman\u2019s\nface. Fortunately I was not to be mistaken for a common cat. Oriphera,\nalthough she stole my crown, could not deprive me of its light, which\nis my birthright, and by that I have always been recognized among cats\nas one of the royal family, although no one knew me as the unhappy\nPhelia.\n\n\u201cYou may be sure I never omitted to ask every cat with whom I met if\nthey had ever heard of a young man such as I described, but every one\nanswered no, and I began to despair, for in one month more, the two\nyears will be gone, and after that all aid is vain. But a few weeks ago\nI fell in with a seafaring cat, just returned from a whaling voyage,\nand he, in answer to my inquiries turned two somersets backward (which\nis equivalent among cats to clapping the hands among men), and said,\n\n\u201c\u2018I know the very man. My master, who is a sailor, was shipwrecked four\nyears ago, and rescued by the very youth you want to find. I have often\nheard him speak of him.\u2019\n\n\u201cMy friend, the seafaring cat, then proceeded to tell me minutely\nwhere to find you; and, not to be tedious, I arrived very tired and\ndiscouraged at your window this evening.\u201d Here the princess, overcome\nby her feelings, covered her face with her hands and made a long\npause,--at last looking up and smiling sweetly upon Ernest, she said,\n\u201cNow tell me, will you recover my crown from that ---- Oriphera, and\nmake me the happiest of princesses\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you ask, revered princess? My life is yours; only tell me how and\nwhere to find her,\u201d exclaimed Ernest.\n\n\u201cThe kingdom of Aura, her father, is in the centre of the earth. You\nwill find the entrance in the forest of Gnomes; but you can never get\nthe crown unless you have the flute from the Cave of the Four Winds, to\nlull the Gnomes to sleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd where is the Cave of the Four Winds, most beautiful of\nprincesses?\u201d asked Ernest, eagerly.\n\n\u201cIt is on the top of ---- m-e-w!\u201d This last word was uttered in a very\nangry voice, for just as Phelia had said \u201ctop of,\u201d her half hour of\nfreedom closed, and she was suddenly retransformed into a cat, without\neven power to add the one word which would have directed Ernest to the\nCave of the Four Winds.\n\nThe young man was as much disappointed as the princess, but consoled\nhimself by promising her that he would use so much diligence and make\nso many inquiries, that he did not doubt to soon meet with some one who\ncould direct him to the cave where the magic flute was to be found.\n\nTo this, however, the cat only shook her head with a melancholy air,\nand Ernest felt quite discouraged again. Suddenly, as he sat thinking\nof every possible way in which to gain the desired information, a\nthought flashed into his head which made him clap his hands for joy.\n\n\u201cI have it, dear Phelia,\u201d said he. \u201cThe winds themselves shall carry\nme.\u201d He then went on to narrate that several years before he had been\nvisited by an old man of wise and venerable appearance, who appeared\nto be very much delighted about something; and at last told him that\nhe had travelled the world over to find the place where the Four Winds\nmeet, for there is where they bring every thing that is lost in the\nworld, and heap all up together, so that any man who can find this\nplace may help himself to whatever he pleases. The old man had taken\nall he wished, which was a parchment containing the secret of a lost\nart,--that of making gold; and he was going away content. He advised\nErnest to go and search in this wonderful collection, which abounded in\nwealth, honors, and all that men value. \u201cBut,\u201d said he, \u201cyou must be\ncareful not to be caught there when the Four Winds meet at midnight,\nfor you would be whirled up and carried away to their cave before you\nknew it.\u201d\n\nErnest had never thought much about the old man\u2019s advice till now, as\nhe did not know exactly what he wanted to find, and had never lost any\nthing; but now he at once determined to go to the place described,\nand wait till midnight, when the Four Winds should meet to go home\ntogether, and would whirl him away with them.\n\nHe told his plan to the gray cat, who purred an assent; and then, as\nmorning had broke, he led her out to the sea-shore and showed her a\nlittle cove where every evening she would find fish of some kind\nstranded among the rocks. He advised her to remain in the hut all the\ntime when she was not at the cove, lest something should happen to\nharm her, and he faithfully promised, that, unless he lost his life\nin the attempt, she should see him with the missing crown in his hand\nbefore many days. Ernest then took leave of the disguised princess, who\ngraciously presented her white paw for him to kiss, and set out upon\nhis lonely travels.\n\nAll that day and the next he journeyed among the mountains which\nlay behind his little hut, but although he followed attentively the\ndirections which the old man had given him, it was not until evening on\nthe second day that he found himself approaching the place where the\nFour Winds meet.\n\nThis was a deep, rocky valley, approached from the north, south, east,\nand west by a deep, narrow ravine, which was the only means by which\nthe valley was made accessible.\n\nAll the surface of the valley was strewn with the lost articles which\nthe winds had swooped up and brought there. It would take a whole\nbook, and a large one too, to tell half the precious things which lay\nscattered there; so I will only say that every thing which once was\npossessed, and now is hopelessly lost, was to be seen there, and a\nwonderful sight it was.\n\nIn the middle of the valley, however, was a small space entirely clear\nof every thing, even of the least particle of dust. It was swept clean\nevery night by the Four Winds when they met. Ernest knew in a moment\nthat this must be the case; and when it grew too dark for him to see\nthe curious things which lay scattered about him, he wrapped himself\nclosely in the great cloak which he wore, and seated himself in the\ncentre of the clean-swept space.\n\nPresently, overcome by fatigue, he fell asleep; nor did he stir till\nmidnight, when he was awakened by a terrific rushing and roaring sound.\n\nIt was the Four Winds, each coming down his own ravine, and making for\nthe common centre. As they entered the valley Ernest could hear the\nlost things which they had brought pattering on the ground all about\nhim, as they were dropped; but in another moment the Winds were upon\nhim, and almost senseless with the rapid motion, he found himself\nwhirled round and round, and up and up, and on and on, till it seemed\nto him that they had flown beyond the stars. Suddenly he found himself\ndropped softly to the earth, and heard the Winds entering a cave above\nhim with a hollow, rushing sound. Freeing himself with some difficulty\nfrom the cloak, which had been wound about him by the rapid, circular\nmotion till it was almost as tight as his skin, Ernest looked about him.\n\nHe found himself upon the top of one of the highest mountains in the\nwhole world, entirely inaccessible to man, bird, or beast. All around\nlay silence and perpetual snow, and it was owing to the soft bed of the\nlatter, upon which he had fallen, that Ernest found himself unhurt. The\ncave in which dwelt the Four Winds lay above him, on the very crest of\nthe mountain. Creeping softly up to the mouth of the cavern, he peeped\ncautiously in, and, finding himself unheeded by the Winds, who were\nbusy unloading themselves of the material for their suppers which they\nhad brought with them, crept through the narrow entrance and crouched\nin a dark corner among some little Breezes which were sleeping there,\nand looked curiously about him.\n\nThe cave was divided into four quarters by two deep, narrow cracks\nor chasms, extending through its whole length and breadth. In each\ndivision stood a chair and table, and at each table now sat a Wind\neating his supper. The reason of their being thus distinct Ernest\nperceived was because the temperature in which each one delighted would\nhave been very disagreeable to either of his brothers, and so with the\nfood and drink which stood before them.\n\nThe North Wind was voraciously eating a great lump composed of narrow\nstrips of meat wound round and round into a ball, and then thoroughly\nsaturated with melted grease. Before him stood a bucket filled with\nwhale-oil, from which every few moments he drank greedily. His dress\nwas the skin of a polar bear, with the fur outside, which he wrapped\nabout him like a mantle. His face was red and full, his eyes, of a\nbright, clear blue, sparkled frostily, his long, light hair hung about\nhis shoulders, and his bushy, flax-colored beard and moustache were\nhung full of icicles.\n\nHis voice was deep and thunderous; and when he laughed, fragments of\nthe solid rock were shaken off and fell about him.\n\nNext him sat the West Wind, whose name was Zephyrus, and Ernest at\nonce decided that he was by far the most prepossessing of the four\nbrothers. He was as tall as his neighbor the North, but not nearly so\nheavy, looking strong, but yet graceful. His hair and curling beard\nwere of a dark brown, his eyes a dark gray, his teeth very white and\nsound, and he had a particularly fresh and healthy glow shining through\nthe tan upon his cheeks. His voice and laugh were hearty and joyous,\nbut not so deep and rough as that of the North Wind. His table was\nspread with ears of Indian corn, heads of wheat, a wild turkey, and a\nlarge ham. He was drinking from a little cask of Catawba wine.\n\nNext came the South Wind, sometimes called Auster, a slight,\ndark-skinned youth, with straight, purple-black hair and glowing, dark\neyes. He looked pale and languid, and reclined in his chair as if he\nwished it were a bed; his voice was soft and sighing, and he never\nlaughed.\n\nUpon the table before him were bunches of grapes, oranges, melons,\nbananas, and sugar-cane. For drink he pressed some orange juice into a\njar, and then sent one of the Breezes to fill it with snow, remarking\nat the same time with a sigh, that sherbet was the only luxury which he\ngained by living in this horribly cold cave with his brothers.\n\n\u201cHo! ho!\u201d laughed the North Wind. \u201cNothing could be more comfortable\nthan this cave, if only you will keep at your proper distance, and not\nbe melting me with your hot breath.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have to breathe as fast as I can to keep a little circle of air warm\naround my table,\u201d murmured the South. \u201cIf I did not, you and East\nwould chill me to death.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, you always run away when I come,\u201d piped East. \u201cHow many times\nI have whistled with delight at seeing how every thing would change\nbefore me when I come stealing along at noon, after you have been\nmaking a fine morning on earth. How the people begin to shiver and shut\ndown the windows and put on their shawls--how the flowers wither up,\nand droop, and hang their heads--Ph-e-w!\u201d\n\nThus spake Eurus, the East Wind, a thin, sallow, unhappy looking\nperson, with watery blue eyes, a peaked blue nose, and a withered,\ncrooked form. He looked bilious and ill-natured, had a shrill, whining\nvoice, and never laughed, although he whistled a great deal in a very\nsharp, ill-natured manner. His supper consisted of a little rice, a\nraw fish, which he had whipped up as he came sweeping over the Atlantic\nOcean, and a great bowl of tea which he had brought from China.\n\nSupper ended, the North Wind, whom his brothers addressed as Boreas,\nstretched himself, and said,--\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m off! I have got some ships jammed up there near the Pole,\nand I\u2019m going to blow \u2019em out. I wish these navigators, as they call\nthemselves, would stay away. They come creeping along up there, and\nyou always help them, Auster, which I think is very ill-natured of\nyou; and then I have to get \u2019em out after they\u2019re blocked in, or if I\ndon\u2019t come, the sailors plague my life out whistling for me. Pretty\nsoon, too, I shall have to drive down the snow clouds. I have got a\nnice flock of them waiting up there at the Pole. I am going to make a\ntremendous winter of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, winter is your time, and spring is mine,\u201d said Eurus, the East\nWind. \u201cAuster and I, between us, will soon drive you from the field\nwhen we set about it. Just now, though, I have got a fine little lot of\nvessels to attend to on the Atlantic coast. I am going to drive them on\nthe rocks, and then, how I\u2019ll whistle through the ropes--Ph-e-w! They\ncall some of the ropes shrouds,--a capital name when I get hold of \u2019em.\nThen I have a good deal to do in China. I suppose they are waiting for\nme to get their ships out of the river. If I feel good-natured I\u2019ll\ndo it; if not, I\u2019ll leave em just at low tide, and let them pull for\nthemselves. It does me good to plague these mortals.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt does you good to plague anybody, I believe, Eurus,\u201d sighed Auster.\n\u201cI am sure you are always thwarting me. I am going to visit the tropics\nto-morrow, and shall leave the northern regions to Boreas, Zephyrus,\nand you, for several months.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat route do you take, brother?\u201d asked Zephyrus; \u201cfor I don\u2019t wish to\ninterfere with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am going through the forest of Gnomes, and then straight down to\nQuito. I like to see the Gnomes at work, they look so warm. Where are\nyou going, brother?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said Zephyrus. \u201cI have some whalers to help round Cape\nHorn, and then I think I shall go and see Boreas. He and I do nicely\ntogether, when he is not too savage. Let us each take a turn at the\nflute, to see if our voices are in tune, and then be off.\u201d\n\nSo saying, Zephyrus took from a shelf behind him an instrument shaped\nsomething like a German flute, and played a piece of spirited martial\nmusic upon it, with great taste and execution.\n\nHe then passed the flute to the North Wind, who roared through it\na stormy Norwegian Berserker song, and then threw it to East, who\nsquealed out a favorite Chinese air, with very high notes and very\nlittle variety. Auster, the South, was the next performer, and played a\nfandango, followed by the tune of a languishing love-song.\n\nThe flute was then replaced on its shelf, and as it wanted an hour of\nsunrise, the usual hour for the brothers to set out upon their day\u2019s\njourney, each composed himself for a little nap.\n\nAs soon as the Four Winds and all the Breezes and Zephyrs were sound\nasleep, Ernest stole softly from his place of concealment, took the\nflute, disjointed it, and placed it in his breast; then, creeping\ncarefully under the loose mantle of the South Wind, he tied himself\nfirmly to one of his legs (for all the Winds were four or five times as\nlarge as common men), and waited anxiously for sunrise, which he knew\nwould awake all four brothers.\n\nThe moment at last arrived; Boreas, Zephyrus, and Eurus, one after the\nother awoke, and left the cave; and last of all, Auster, who, finding\nhimself belated, rushed through the narrow opening with great velocity,\nwithout noticing at all in his hurry the passenger whom he was taking\nwith him.\n\nAfter traversing with the speed of the \u201cwinds\u201d many a mile of sea and\nland, Ernest found that his conductor was pausing in the tops of some\nhigh pine trees in the centre of a vast forest.\n\nPeering cautiously down, the young man perceived some little yellow\nfigures running about among the trees, diving suddenly into the earth,\nand as suddenly reappearing upon its surface. Ernest at once concluded\nthat this must be the forest of the Gnomes, and, hastily untying the\nscarf with which he had bound himself to the South Wind, he slipped off\ninto the top of a tree and scrambled down the branches, leaving the\nWind languidly sighing and moaning before taking a fresh start.\n\nHaving reached the lower branch of the tree which he had selected,\nErnest looked attentively about him. The little yellow men were still\nrunning about as busily as ever, and did not seem to have heard his\napproach. They seemed to be employed in bringing little scales and\nparticles of gold from beneath the ground and scattering it upon the\nearth; and Ernest, noticing that the trees and shrubs grew greener and\nlarger as they did so, concluded that the Gnomes were watering their\ngarden. Presently he noticed that directly at the foot of the tree\nwhere he crouched was one of the holes by which the Gnomes continually\nemerged and re\u00ebntered, and, seizing a moment when it was empty, Ernest\ndropped himself directly into it, and found himself at the top of a\nlong flight of rocky steps. For a moment the Gnomes stood motionless\nwith astonishment at this sudden apparition; but as soon as they\nperceived the intruder was a man, they rushed toward him, each armed\nwith the little pick-axe which he wore in his belt; and although each\nGnome was very small, their numbers made them formidable.\n\nHowever, the instant he touched ground, Ernest had pulled the flute\nfrom his bosom and commenced putting it together. As he did so, he\nnoticed that there were four mouthpieces, each marked with the name\nof a Wind, and, selecting that of the South as likely to be the most\nsoothing, he began to play as he had seen the Winds do. To his pleasure\nand surprise--for he knew nothing about music--the flute played the\nsame airs which it had done when the South Wind blew into it, and\nthe Gnomes, dropping their weapons, sunk down upon the ground, and\npresently fell fast asleep.\n\nAs soon as Ernest was sure that they were so, he began to descend the\nsteps, which wound round and round, constantly descending, so that\nvery soon not a ray of light was to be seen. Then he stopped playing,\nand, indeed, all his breath was no more than sufficient to support\nhim in the close and heavy atmosphere in which he found himself. At\nlast the steps ended in a narrow passage, and Ernest proceeded a long\ndistance through it in total dark and silence, guiding himself by\nfeeling the cold, dripping walls at each side, which seemed hewn out of\nthe solid rock, and was so low and narrow that he was obliged to stoop\nvery low to get through at all.\n\nSuddenly a sound of merry voices broke the silence, and, turning a\nsharp corner, the young man found himself close to an opening, which\nappeared to conduct into a grotto or cavern; but the only thing which\nErnest could distinguish was a heavy curtain whose rich folds lay upon\nthe ground at his feet. It seemed to be of satin; but on putting out\nhis hand to pull it cautiously away, Ernest found to his astonishment\nthat it was made of gold, so pure in its quality and beaten so thin\nin substance, that it was flexible and delicate as silk. Creeping\ncautiously along behind this screen, Ernest presently came to a small\nopening between his curtain and the next one, through which he could\nsee plainly without being himself discovered.\n\nHe found that the opening, as he supposed, led into a small grotto,\nacross whose rocky roof ran in every direction veins of purest gold,\nwhich sparkled in the brilliant rays of the immense carbuncle hanging\nfrom the centre of the roof, which was thickly studded with twinkling\ndiamond stars.\n\nAll around, the walls were draped with curtains like that which\nconcealed Ernest, and the floor was composed of alternate blocks of\ngold and silver.\n\nAt one side of the cavern was a throne of gold and gems, over which\nhung by way of canopy an immense orange, the lobes divided and spread\napart at the bottom, but united at the top. The peel of this orange\nwas of solid gold, roughened to resemble the natural skin; but the\ninterior or pulp was composed of innumerable little cells, each wrought\nseparately in fine gold, and then placed in their natural position; the\nseeds were represented by very pale topazes, cut in the exact shape of\nan orange seed.\n\nUpon this throne sat a young woman about the age of Phelia, whom Ernest\nat once concluded to be her rival Oriphera; for on her head, which\nwas covered with long golden ringlets, was placed a crown, composed\nentirely of the gems known as cat\u2019s-eyes, held together by gold wire.\n\nThis princess was very gorgeously dressed and decorated with a great\nmany jewels, and to most persons would have appeared very beautiful;\nbut, of course, Ernest could not think any thing of the sort, seeing in\nher as he did, only the enemy and rival of his beloved Phelia.\n\nAll around the princess stood her beautiful maids of honor, while\nbehind the throne Ernest perceived a body-guard of Gnomes, each armed,\nin addition to his pick-axe, with a sling, while in a pouch at his belt\nhe carried a supply of golden bullets. Other Gnomes were constantly\nappearing from behind the screens and laying at the feet of their\nprincess whatever rare or beautiful gems they had discovered in their\nmining operations. Some of these Oriphera ordered her treasurer, a\nlittle, old, yellow Gnome, to take up and carry away, others she\npushed aside with her foot, and they were taken away to be put in the\nrubbish-pit.\n\nSuddenly, as Ernest was looking with all his eyes, he heard a noise\nbehind him, and, listening attentively, he found that the Gnomes\nwhom he had left above ground had awakened from their sleep and were\npursuing him.\n\nSeizing his flute, Ernest blew a hurried strain with all his force;\nbut, not stopping to select his mouthpiece, he took that belonging to\nBoreas, the North Wind, and the noise which ensued was so loud and\nsudden that it cracked the golden curtain from top to bottom, caused\nseveral of the diamond stars to fall from the roof, set the great\ncarbuncle swinging like a pendulum, and made the princess and all her\nattendants fall down as if they had been shot.\n\nErnest stood for a moment, thunderstruck at the mischief he had\nwrought; but, quickly recovering himself, he darted forward, seized\nPhelia\u2019s crown from the head of the prostrate Oriphera, filled his\npockets with some of the refuse diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, and\nthen, finding the proper mouthpiece, he made the best of his way out of\nthe grotto and up the stairs, playing away as hard as he could at the\nfandango and love-song of the South Wind. He however found it necessary\nto go very slowly, not only on account of the darkness, but because on\nalmost every step lay a Gnome stupefied, or rather entranced with the\nmusic; and Ernest, who was a very kind-hearted young man, could not\nbear to hurt one of the little fellows, although they would willingly\nhave killed him.\n\nAt length he found himself once more in the open air, and, heaving a\ngreat sigh of relief, he hastened on, hoping soon to get out of the\nwood; but what with constantly losing his way, and what with having to\nstop every little while to play the Gnomes to sleep (who pursued him\nfuriously), it was many days before he gained the open country, and a\ngreat many more before he found himself approaching the beloved hut\nwhere he hoped to find Phelia waiting for him. Even then he turned a\nlittle out of his way to visit the place where the Four Winds meet,\nthat he might lay the borrowed flute upon the little circle in the\ncentre, where the Winds could not fail to see and reclaim it; for, as\nErnest said to himself, if they had not the flute, how could they try\ntheir voices to see if they were in tune? and if they were obliged to\nsing false, what would become of the world then?\n\nFinally, toward evening, on the very last day of the month which had\nbeen allowed him for his enterprise, Ernest came in sight of his little\nhut, where almost the first object that met his view was the Gray Cat\nperched upon the top of the chimney, and anxiously looking in every\ndirection to see if she could catch sight of her deliverer.\n\nNo sooner did she see him than, leaping to the ground, she came\nbounding to meet him; but before she had quite reached him, her dignity\nas a princess overcame her delight as a cat, and, pausing at the foot\nof a low rock, she leaped upon it, and seated herself upright with her\ntail folded closely about her feet, in a very stately and formal manner.\n\nErnest approached the presence of this little sovereign with all the\nrespect imaginable, and, kneeling upon one knee, laid the recovered\ncrown at her feet.\n\nThe cat purred her thanks and approval, but gracefully intimated, by\nplacing her paw upon the crown and then upon her head, that she would\nthank her gallant knight to complete her transformation by placing the\ndiadem in its proper place.\n\nErnest understood the silent request, and immediately complied with it.\nNo sooner had he done so than the Gray Cat forever disappeared, and in\nher place sat the Princess Phelia, who extended her white hand to the\nyoung man, with the same gracious dignity with which she had given him\nher paw to kiss when he was setting out upon his journey.\n\n\u201cHow can I ever thank you,--how can I ever reward you, dearest friend?\u201d\nsaid she, softly.\n\n\u201cI will tell you, fairest Phelia,\u201d replied Ernest, blushing far more\ndeeply than the princess, brought up in a court, had done.\n\n\u201cYou can reward me by giving me this little hand, which I fear but for\nme would have been but a cat\u2019s paw to the end of time.\u201d\n\nPhelia, to this proposition--which, perhaps, was not quite\nunexpected--yielded a gracious assent; and the next day the young\ncouple journeyed together to Catland, where they were immediately\nmarried, and, soon succeeding to the throne, lived and reigned many,\nmany happy years; and, for any thing I have ever heard, they do so\nstill.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                           THE FROST-MAIDEN\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOnce there was a little boy, who more than any thing else loved to look\nat pictures. He had but few books containing them, nor were his parents\nable to hang their walls with beautiful paintings and engravings,\nas rich people can do. Still, little Claude found pictures all about\nhim. In the spring, it was the tender green of the new leaves and the\nspringing grass; in the summer, the thousand different flowers and the\nbeautiful birds; in the autumn, the gorgeous scarlet and golden tints\nof the changing woods; and in the winter--oh, in the winter--Claude\nnever wanted for pictures!\n\nEvery morning there they were, twelve new ones, all different, ready\nplaced to meet his eyes as soon as they should open!\n\nBut what do you think these twelve pictures were, and where were they\ndrawn?\n\nWhy, on the twelve panes of glass in the window of Claude\u2019s little\nbedroom.\n\nEvery morning was to the boy a new delight; and how sorry he felt, if,\nby sleeping a little later than usual, he lost a few minutes of the\nhalf hour which he usually enjoyed before his mother called him to get\nup.\n\nThe pictures were quite different. Sometimes there was a dense forest\ncovering all one pane, the tree tops crowded together with scarcely any\ngap between them.\n\nSometimes there was a grove at one side, and a wide, lawn-like field\nstretching away out of sight at the other.\n\nSometimes a few scattered trees, with a brook winding among them, and\ntroops of deer drinking at it.\n\nSometimes a wild and savage ravine between two precipices, and a crazy\nwaterfall dashing down between them.\n\nSometimes a flowery plain, with a star-spangled sky overhead, and\na flower wreathed May-pole, waiting quietly for a troop of happy\nchildren to dance about it in the sunrise.\n\nSometimes, behind a trim and quiet-looking group of trees, Claude could\nsee the outline of a stately castle, its chimneys and turrets peeping\nover the tree tops.\n\nSometimes it was a ruined and deserted tower, standing gloomy and\nsolitary upon a craggy mountain side.\n\nIn short, there was no end to the beauty and variety of the pictures in\nClaude\u2019s gallery.\n\nBut who drew them in a single night, while all in the house slept?\n\nThis question troubled the boy\u2019s mind constantly. His mother said the\nfrost did it; but how could that be? \u201cFrost has nothing lovely about\nhim,\u201d thought Claude. \u201cHe turns all my beautiful flowers to ugly black\nstalks as soon as he sees them; he makes the ground hard and white,\nand changes the soft green of the grass to a dull brown; he makes my\nmother\u2019s pretty face look blue and pinched, and spoils her curls. How\ncan it be the frost who draws my dear pictures?\u201d\n\nHis mother could not tell him why,--only she was quite sure it was the\nfrost, because everybody said so.\n\nHe asked his father, who laughed, and told him that when he was older\nhe would find out.\n\nSo Claude asked no more questions, but wondered all the more.\n\nOne morning there was a new picture, one which had never come before;\nand Claude\u2019s eyes only glanced at the rest, turning again and again to\nthis new one, which seemed to call him to it as if it spoke.\n\nA low, irregular mountain, with a wide plain at its foot,--that was all.\n\nBut stop!--was it a mountain? No,--it was a palace; very large, and\nvery fantastic in its shape, but evidently a palace, and a very\nmagnificent one.\n\nWhat he had at first taken for crags and ice-peaks were in reality\ngraceful minarets and spires; what he had supposed a mass of frozen\nsnow upon the mountain top was the sheeny, silvered roof of the palace;\nwhat had been solitary trees upon the mountain side were now gayly\nfloating banners; little clear spots, which he had not noticed at\nfirst, now showed as thousands of windows and scores of doors; what,\nat the first glance, seemed wild bushes about the base of the hill,\nsuddenly became a troop of guards, some mounted, some on foot.\n\nClaude, astonished, raised himself upon his elbow to look more closely\nat this transformation. Just then his mother entered the room to call\nhim to breakfast.\n\n\u201cSee, see, mother!\u201d cried he, \u201cthat beautiful palace, in the middle of\nmy window! How I wish I could really go to it!\u201d\n\n\u201cPalace, child!\u201d said his mother, \u201cI see no palace. There is something\nthere which looks like a mountain, but nothing more. You will hurt\nyourself, dear boy, looking so much at these frost pictures; we shall\nhave you crazy next. Come, now, and eat some nice, warm breakfast.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, mother\u201d--began Claude, and then stopped suddenly. His mother was\nright, it _was_ nothing but a mountain,--how could he have been\nso deceived? \u201cAnd yet,\u201d--\n\nClaude rose, and dressed himself slowly, often glancing at the window,\nwhere now the mountain (nothing but a mountain) was fading slowly under\nthe bright rays of the rising sun, which shone full upon it.\n\nClaude paid but little attention to his breakfast, or his dinner\neither, he was so anxious to have night come and go again, that he\nmight see if the enchanted palace, as he called it, would reappear.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as there was light enough to see any thing,\nhis eager eyes started open, and turned at once to the upper centre\npane of glass, which was, indeed, the only one bearing any intelligible\npicture, all the rest being covered with a thick white coat, looking\nlike nothing, unless it was a curtain, to hide what might be behind.\nBut there, where it had stood before, rose clear and sharp the fairy\npalace; and Claude wondered how he could have taken it for a mountain.\n\nAfter looking at it for a while, the boy suddenly noticed a new feature\nin his picture.\n\nThis was a large fir-tree, standing in the middle of the plain, quite\nalone, its lower branches dead and broken, while the top was dense and\nflourishing. Under the tree was an object which Claude could not make\nout.\n\n\u201cIt must be a little bush,\u201d thought he, and turned his eyes again\ntoward the palace.\n\nThe next morning Claude slept late, and when he woke was obliged to\njump up directly.\n\nHe looked at the window, but saw nothing except a shapeless mark,\nhardly resembling even a mountain.\n\nAll that day Claude was sad and uneasy, feeling as if something were\nwanting to his happiness which he knew not where to find.\n\nThe next morning, however, he waked betimes, and turned eagerly to the\nwindow. Clear and splendid rose the palace in the frosty air; stern and\nsad stood the lonely tree,--but, that shrub at its foot! How blind he\nhad been! It was the perfect and graceful figure of a young girl,--her\nlong hair hanging about her, her gossamer looking robe and scarf\nfluttering in the morning air. She seemed looking down at something\nlying at the foot of the old fir, something quite as vague to Claude,\nhowever, as the girl herself had been when he first saw her.\n\nFull of delight, he bounded from his bed, and rushed to the window to\nexamine more closely this new figure in the strange frost picture; but,\nwhen he reached it, look as he might, he could see nothing but a rugged\nmountain, a tree, and a bush.\n\nSad and disappointed, Claude crept back to bed, but comforted himself\nby thinking,--\u201cSomewhere, somewhere in this world, stands that\npalace,--lives that maiden. In a few years I shall be a man, and then I\nwill go and find them.\u201d\n\nAgain he turned his eyes upon the window, through which the sun\u2019s\nfirst rays were streaming. Under their influence the picture began\nto disappear; but for one moment first, they stood out, clear and\ndistinct as over,--the palace and the maiden.\n\nMany mornings came and went. Often the enchanted palace greeted\nClaude\u2019s wakening eyes, but there were also long intervals in which he\nsaw nothing, or only the shapeless mountain.\n\nStill the idea grew in his mind, that somewhere he should find the\npalace, the tree, and the maiden who waited beneath it,--waited,\nperhaps, for him.\n\nYears rolled away. Claude left his home, and travelled in many\ncountries.\n\nHe found himself in glowing southern lands, with pictures all around\nhim,--pictures painted by men, which thrilled his heart as he gazed\nat them; pictures in the trees and flowers, such as he had known and\nloved at home; beautiful women and beautiful palaces; but none ever\ncontented him or held him long; still he whispered to himself,--\n\n\u201cHere is not _my_ palace or _my_ maiden,\u201d and then he\nwandered on.\n\nAt last he left this warm and glowing land, and found himself in a\nfrozen, wintry region, where on every side rose steep and snow-clad\nmountains, upon whose summits the foot of man had never rested.\n\nHere Claude felt more content, and looked eagerly around him for the\nmountain he had known so many years.\n\nNo, it was not here; and still he wandered on.\n\nOn, through level, fertile plains, over which he hastened impatiently;\non, through cities and over seas, ever looking, ever longing.\n\nAt last he reached a frozen country, where people hardly dared breathe\nthe cutting, icy air; and where no trees and flowers grew, except the\nstrongest and bravest of their kind.\n\nOn wandered Claude, a wild impatience burning in his heart; a feeling\nas if what he so long had sought was close at hand,--almost within his\ngrasp.\n\nLate one night he reached a lonely hut, far beyond all towns and farms,\nwhere dwelt an old man with his old wife. They welcomed the youth, gave\nhim of their reindeer\u2019s milk and coarse bread, and then spread a couch\nof lichens in the corner of the hut, where Claude slept soundly till\nmorning light. Then, springing up, he bade the aged couple good-by with\nmany thanks, and was leaving the hut, when the old man said kindly,--\n\n\u201cBut, my son, where will you go? Beyond here lies only the country of\nKing Frost; a country in which no man can live a day.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cStay with us till summer comes, or else go back from whence you came;\nyou are too young and too beautiful to die in the cold grasp of the\nfrost-king.\u201d\n\nA glad smile came upon Claude\u2019s pale face, and he said suddenly,--\n\n\u201cI know it now. It is to King Frost\u2019s palace that I am going. Farewell,\nfather.\u201d\n\nAnd before the old man could say another word, the youth was far beyond\nthe sound of his feeble voice.\n\nAll day Claude hastened on, although the cold became so terrible that\nit seemed to fetter his limbs with icy chains.\n\nAt last, just at sunset, he found himself upon a wide plain, covered\nwith hard, frozen snow. No shelter was at hand, nothing to protect him\nfrom the cutting wind, which began to rise; but stop,--yes, there is\none tree, an aged fir, standing in the centre of the plain.\n\nToward it Claude staggered feebly, hoping to find some slight relief\nfrom his suffering by interposing its gnarled trunk between him and the\nbiting wind.\n\nHe reached it, and sunk upon the snow, his eyes closing with a sense of\ndrowsiness.\n\nAs they did so, Claude half saw before him a low, broad mountain\ncovered with snow, which glittered in the rays of the setting sun.\n\nHe started with a sudden thought, opened his eyes, and looked about him.\n\nYes! The mountain, the tree, the plain! It was, at last, the\nlong-sought picture; but, sinking back, he murmured with a bitter\nsigh,--\n\n\u201cIt was only a mountain, after all!\u201d\n\nOnce more he unclosed his eyes, and gazed steadfastly before him.\n\nAs he did so, he started upright; the warm blood tingling again in his\nfrozen veins.\n\nIt was the palace! The palace of his boyish dreams! The palace of King\nFrost!\n\nEagerly he strove to move toward it, but his limbs refused to obey him;\nhe sunk exhausted upon the snow, his eyes fixed upon the fairy palace.\n\nAt that moment the great doors were thrown wide open, the guards ranged\nthemselves upon either hand, and between them appeared a light and\ngraceful figure, her white robes floating back as she came swiftly\ntoward him.\n\nThe stiffening eyelids fell over Claude\u2019s weary eyes. With an effort\nhe raised them once more, and she stood over him, looking down, as he\nhad seen her in the frost picture; a tall and slender maiden, with eyes\nblue as the winter sky, and bright as the stars in a frosty night; her\nlong, waving hair, pale as the rays of the setting sun which shone\nupon her; her brow and cheeks pure and pale as the new-fallen snow.\n\nLovingly she looked down at him, and earnestly Claude tried to return\nher gaze; but the heavy lids closed over his eyes in spite of every\neffort. The frost-maiden knelt beside him and took his hand in hers. A\nfeeling of delicious repose stole over Claude\u2019s senses, and he slept,\nwhile in a low, whispering voice, the maiden murmured in his ear,--\n\n\u201cYou have come, my darling, you have come! Long have I waited and\nwatched, since the night I first peeped in at your casement, while I\ndrew the pictures that you love; since I showed you my father\u2019s palace,\nand this tree, and my own image; long have you wandered, long have you\nsought, my poor Claude! Did you think to find the frost-maiden in that\nburning south where you have been so long? I should die, my beloved,\nif I even hovered over that scorching land,--die, and fall in tears,\nwhich men call rain. No, here is my home; and here shall you dwell\never with me, my Claude! The walls of my father\u2019s palace are covered\nwith pictures such as mortals never saw; and when we tire of them, the\nfrost-sprites which wait upon us shall draw other and more beautiful\nones.\n\n\u201cThen, together we will roam over sea and land, borne upon the broad\nwings of the north wind, and, passing by the curtained, shuttered\nwindows of the rich, we will draw our fairest pictures on the lowly\ncasement where dwell those who have none save those we give them. We\nwill touch with flying feet the surface of the lake and brook, and\nspread a glittering roof over the Naiads far below; we will breathe,\nas we pass by, upon the withering leaves, and clothe their death with\nbeauty; we will fringe the cottage eaves with pendant jewels, such as\nno queen wears; we will open the chestnut burrs that the squirrels\nmay feast, and kiss the cheeks of merry children till they bloom like\nwinter roses. All this, and more will we do, dear Claude. Come, then,\nto the home of the frost-maiden,--come, come, come!\u201d\n\nSinging the last words in a low, sighing voice, the frost-maiden\nbreathed upon Claude\u2019s face. Immediately a light vapor rose into the\nair above where he lay, and rapidly took form and shape; it was Claude,\nyet not Claude. He was changed to a frost-sprite, and no longer could\nsuffer pain in the kingdom of the Frost King.\n\nHe seized the maiden\u2019s hand, together they entered the palace, and the\ngreat gates closed slowly behind them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo now every child who sees in the morning his window covered with\npictures, will know that while he slept, Claude and the frost-maiden\nhave been at work.\n\n\n\n\n                             UNDER THE SEA\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIn the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from any land, a great\nship lay becalmed. It was a passenger ship, bound to the East Indies,\nand there were a good many families on board, and a still larger number\nof young men who had left their friends behind, and were going out to\nsee if they could gather some of the famous \u201criches of the Indies\u201d\ninto their own pockets. Among these young men was one called Ernest,\nwho not only had no relatives or near friends on board the ship, but,\nso far as he knew, in the wide world. Ever since he could remember he\nhad been alone, and very lonely; nor did he feel less so now among all\nthese persons, who each seemed to have some one to love or take an\ninterest in them, except himself; and so still he was alone.\n\nDay after day passed, and the ship lay becalmed, until the motionless\nheat became very oppressive. One night Ernest, strolling languidly up\nand down the deck, stopped, and, looking over the taffrail near the\nstern of the vessel, saw a little boat, which had been let down that\none of the officers might bathe from it, and which still lay rocking\ngently on the little waves; so Ernest, thinking it would be a pleasant\nplace to lie and dream, clambered down the side of the great ship, and,\nstretching himself upon a cloak in the bottom of the boat, soon fell\nfast asleep.\n\nSome hours passed, and then Ernest awoke with a start, for a great\nwave had broken over his little skiff and drenched him with water.\nSitting upright, he looked about him in silent amazement. During the\nnight the wind had suddenly risen, and in a few hours increased to a\ngale. On board the ship, the sailors who were keeping watch had set\nthe great sails, glad enough to see them fill once more. But no one\nhad remembered or noticed the little boat towing astern, which, after\nfollowing quietly on for awhile, pulling harder and harder upon the\nslender line which held it to the ship, suddenly snapped it in two,\nand in a moment was left far behind.\n\nSo now, when Ernest sat up and looked about him, he saw nothing but\nwater; on every side, great black waves with white, foamy crests, came\nrolling angrily toward him, as if they would swallow him up; and some\nof them, like the one which had awakened him, even broke into the\nlittle boat, so that for some time Ernest was too busy in baling out\nthe water to have time even to be frightened.\n\nThe rest of the night passed in this manner; but just before sunrise\nthe wind died away to little and less, until, as the first level rays\nshot across the ocean, the calm was as intense as it had been the day\nbefore.\n\nThe waves continued restless some hours longer; but before noon they\ntoo had sunk to sleep, and the little boat with the lonely youth\nremained motionless, the centre of a great, round water-plain extending\non every side to where the burning sky dipped down, trying in vain to\ncool itself.\n\nFor many hours Ernest had suffered terribly from heat and thirst, and\nnow that the utter calm increased both, he thought he must surely die.\nWrapping himself again in the thick cloak, and covering his head from\nthe blistering rays of the sun, he lay many hours motionless in a sort\nof swoon. When he recovered consciousness, night had come again; the\nfierce sun had given way to the cool, pitying moon, which, round and\nfull, beamed kindly down upon him; and a little breath of air, not\nenough to make the gentlest breeze, just rippled the surface of the\nwater, and gave a faint, delightful motion to the little boat.\n\nErnest, faint and exhausted, sat up and looked about him. The scene was\ndelightful, but he hardly knew it, his sufferings from thirst and fever\nwere so intense; he looked toward the east and shuddered,--a few hours\nmore and the sun would rise, burning and scorching all before him, and\nErnest felt that then he must die.\n\nWith a low moan he stretched himself again in the bottom of the boat,\nand lay there still, with half-closed eyes, listening to the soft\nripple of the tiny wavelets upon the side, and soothed by the faint\nmotion of the little skiff.\n\nSuddenly he perceived that this motion had increased; that it had\nbecome a gentle, regular rocking, although the noise of the water\nagainst the side was rather less than more. Raising his languid\neyes, what was Ernest\u2019s astonishment to see a row of little white\nhands clasping the edge of the boat on each side, and rocking it\nas if it were a cradle. Softly putting out his own hand, Ernest\ncautiously touched one of those nearest to him; yes, they were real\nfingers,--cool, white, and soft.\n\nRising upon his elbow, the young man peeped over the gunwale of his\nboat. Oh, what a singular picture met his view! The world beneath the\nsea had come up to visit the world above the sea. Strange, beautiful\nfishes, such as no man\u2019s eye ever saw before, glittered and swam on\nevery side; great whales, white as milk, too cautious ever to appear\nby day, moved in stately measure beneath the moon; the sea-serpent\nundulated his miles of glossy length, coiling himself up, and suddenly\nwhirling into the air and down again in a great, gleaming arch to the\nwater; far away in lonely grandeur, vast, white, and motionless, lay\nthe great Kraken, that mysterious, traditional inhabitant of the sea,\nonly known to men through the wild stories which ancient mariners will\nsometimes tell around the evening fire. Wonderful enough it was to see\nall these; but Ernest hardly glanced at them,--for, close about his\nboat on every side crowded beautiful forms, with fair, childlike faces\nand long, golden hair, which floated and glittered upon the moon-lit\nwaves, as they swam gracefully hither and thither. Ernest knew them\nat once; they were the mer-maidens, the children of the sea, of whom\nhe had often heard, and for whom he had often vainly gazed across the\nmidnight ocean.\n\nThese it were, who, grasping with white fingers the little boat, had\nrocked it softly to the cadence of an inarticulate song. As the youth\narose and looked at them, they gently loosed their hold, and sunk\nbeneath the water; but in an instant he heard them again behind him,\nand, turning suddenly, saw them surrounding a great sea-shell, white\nwithout, and of an exquisite pink within, which they were softly moving\non across the water toward his own boat, while they sung in unison\ntheir mysterious, wordless song. But Ernest neither looked nor listened\nto the mer-maidens, for within the shell, robed in the rich abundance\nof her own golden hair, reclined the loveliest creature that the youth\nhad ever seen, with fair, pale face and great, dreamy eyes, blue as the\nsea itself. Upon her head was set a crown, and about her neck and\narms were strings of enormous pearls, perfect in form and color, and\nyet no whiter or rounder than the throat and arms which they encircled.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIn her hands she carried a little golden harp, and when she had\napproached within a few feet of Ernest\u2019s boat, gently motioning her\nmaidens to pause, she raised it and swept her tiny hand across the\nstrings; a faint, sweet sound, like summer wind sighing through summer\nwoods, met the young man\u2019s ear, and then in a soft, low voice she sung.\nThe words were in the same unknown tongue with which the mer-maidens\nhad chanted his lullaby, but as Ernest listened they shaped themselves\ninto meaning in his mind; and this was the song of the sea-princess:--\n\n    Come with me! Come with me!\n      To the world beneath the sea.\n    There live we, with mirth and glee,\n      Oh, \u2019tis pleasant there to be!\n\n    Pearls so rare, jewels fair,\n      Gather we to deck our hair;\n    Toil nor care, dwell not there,\n      Come then, mortal, if thou dare!\n\nThe song was repeated over and over, and each moment Ernest longed\nmore to go and dwell in this fair world beneath the sea. At last the\nshell-boat was pushed close to his own; and all the little white hands\nof the mer-maidens, clasping one side of his skiff, tipped it more and\nmore, until half unconsciously he slid from his own to the boat of the\nbeautiful maiden, who clasped him in her arms, murmuring her soft song\ndreamily into his ear, while the great pink shell began first slowly,\nthen more and more swiftly, to spin round and round, sinking at the\nsame time until it was countless fathoms beneath the sea.\n\nErnest awoke as from a dream, to find himself laid upon a couch\nof soft, many colored sea-mosses, heaped high in the centre of a\ngrotto-like chamber, whose walls of red and white coral were curiously\ncut, by the labor of the sword-fish employed as decorator in the royal\npalace, into the delicate and fanciful images of all the beautiful\nflowers and leaves which grow far beneath the sea, and are never seen\nby men. A cool, green light diffused itself through the chamber, and\nshowed to Ernest the figure of the princess seated beside him, and\ngazing at him with loving eyes.\n\n\u201cWhat is your name, fair queen?\u201d asked the young man softly.\n\n\u201cI am the Princess Su-le-mair, daughter of the great King Maro,\u201d\nreplied the maiden, a little proudly; but added, in a more tender\nvoice, \u201cAnd you, beautiful mortal,--what do they call you, above there?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Ernest; but no mortal will ever call me so again, for I\nwill live here always with you, beautiful Sulemair,\u201d and the youth\ntimidly kissed the rose-red lips of the fair sea-maiden.\n\n\u201cThen come with me and see our palace,--your home, now,\u201d said Sulemair,\nbashfully drawing back, but holding out her cool, white hand to take\nthat of her lover.\n\nSo Ernest went, guided by the princess, from one curious and beautiful\nroom to another, until he had seen all the wonders of the palace in\nwhich he was now to dwell. Then Sulemair proposed that he should come\nwith her to see her father and mother, who lived at some distance; for\neach of the princes and princesses had a palace to themselves; and as\nthe royal family was very large, the king was obliged to keep a large\ncorps of sword-fish coral-cutters constantly at work.\n\nThe young couple found that King Maro was just presiding at his council\ntable, so that he could not receive them; but Queen Nymphia, Sulemair\u2019s\nmother, professed herself very much pleased with their visit, and\nwelcomed Ernest to the kingdom under the sea very warmly and gracefully.\n\nAfter this, it being dinner time, the two returned to their own palace,\nand spent the rest of the day very happily in telling each other the\nhistory of their previous lives.\n\nSo the days went dreamily on. Sometimes Sulemair sung to her golden\nharp love-songs, or ballads of sea-life; sometimes she and her maidens\ndanced with Ernest, who soon learned their strange and fanciful\nfigures, while a band of conchs, carefully graduated in tone, played\neach on his own shell; sometimes the princess, or one of the maidens,\ntold strange stories of wonderful sights and romantic adventures in\ntheir own country, to which Ernest replied with stories of the world\nabove the sea, which made the mer-maidens open their blue eyes wide\nwith astonishment.\n\nThese and other amusements filled the day; yet sometimes Ernest would\nfind time to wonder if matters went on above as they had done in his\nown time, and to wish occasionally that he and Sulemair could make a\nlittle visit to earth, just to see how it looked once more. He never\nmentioned this fancy to his beautiful bride, however, lest she should\nthink him discontented; but keeping it to himself, he dwelt upon it\nmore and more, until at last he thought of hardly any thing else, and\nat times was so absent and dreamy that he forgot to listen to the songs\nand stories, or to dance when it was his turn to do so.\n\nSulemair was not slow to notice and to suspect the cause of this\nalteration in her beloved Ernest, and she, too, grew silent,\nthoughtful, and abstracted. At last, one day, Ernest, rousing suddenly\nfrom a reverie, found the princess seated beside him gazing into his\nface, while great tears, rolling down her cheeks and dropping off her\nchin, fell in round, white pearls at her feet.\n\n\u201cDearest, sweetest, what is the matter?\u201d asked Ernest, anxiously; for\nhe had never seen the princess cry before.\n\n\u201cIt is--it is, that Ernest wishes to leave me,\u201d sobbed the poor little\nsea-nymph.\n\n\u201cLeave you! leave my Sulemair!\u201d exclaimed Ernest, kissing her over and\nover; \u201cI never dreamed of such a thing. But if you and I together,\ndearest, could make just a little visit up above,--eh, Susu?\u201d\n\n\u201cListen, dear,\u201d said the princess, sitting up, and wiping her eyes;\n\u201cfor I have something to tell you. I never can visit the world above\nand return here--never. But I have one chance to exchange this life for\nthat, if I choose, though I never thought of wishing it before. Are\nyou sure, very sure, dear Ernest, that you wish me to come too? Will\nit not be enough if you can return alone? Perhaps, after a while, you\nwould grow tired of your poor Sulemair, and then what should she do,\nall alone in a strange world?\u201d\n\nIt required several words and a great many kisses to convince the\nprincess of the absurdity of this idea; but at last she continued:--\n\n\u201cWe daughters of the royal house have a privilege not shared by any\nother of the maidens of the sea. On the night we are sixteen (our\nbirthdays always come in the full moon), if we can by any means\npersuade a mortal maiden to leap into the sea, and catch her in our\narms as she falls, we are able to change conditions with her,--she\nbecoming a mer-maiden, and we a child of earth. This is possible, but\nrarely attempted by us; partly because we love our own natures so well\nwe do not care to change, and partly from the difficulty of inducing\nany earthly maiden to make the exchange. Sometimes, however, one of us\nhas done it; my eldest sister did. She ascended to the upper waters on\nher birth-night, and found herself near a ship moving slowly through\nthe sea; floating quietly about it she perceived a beautiful girl\nleaning over the side, and looking sadly into the water. My sister, who\nhad a harp like mine, began to play and sing softly, and the maiden,\nfixing her eyes upon the spot where my sister\u2019s hair, floating behind\nher, looked like what the sailors call a moon-glade, drooped lower and\nlower over the side of the vessel, until Neria, holding out her arms,\nthe maiden sunk into them, and in the next moment floated away a\nmer-maiden, while my sister clambered into the ship and took her place.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut did they look alike?\u201d asked Ernest.\n\n\u201cOh, the two change faces as well as forms, you understand.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut then you would not be my Sulemair any more,\u201d said Ernest,\ndiscontentedly.\n\n\u201cFoolish boy, you will find some one so much more beautiful to take my\nplace, that you will be glad to make the change,\u201d said the princess,\nlaughing merrily.\n\n\u201c_I_ shall find, little Susu? What does that mean?\u201d asked the\nlover.\n\n\u201cWhy, my plan is, that you shall return immediately to the earth, and\nspend the time from now to my birthday, which will not be for ten more\nfull moons, in trying to find a maiden (a beautiful one, mind--I\nwon\u2019t change with an ugly one), who will leap into the sea of her own\nfreewill. I don\u2019t think it right to charm one, as Neria did, although I\ndare say I could\u201d--\n\n\u201cAs you charmed me,\u201d suggested Ernest.\n\n\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t charm you, I only sung to you,\u201d replied Sulemair\ninnocently.\n\n\u201cAll the same; but go on with your little plan, darling.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if you can find one who will change with me willingly, bring her\nto a place which I will show you, the night of the tenth full moon from\nthat now shining; let her leap into my arms, and the next moment you\nwill have me, a mortal maiden, ready to live and die with you in your\nown way.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me set out immediately,\u201d exclaimed Ernest, starting up, \u201cI shall\nfind not one, but twenty maidens, with whom to purchase my Sulemair\u2019s\nlife.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot twenty, but one will be enough,\u201d smiled the princess, as, winding\nher arms about Ernest, she floated with him to the surface of the\nocean, directing her course obliquely, as if to reach some particular\npoint. Emerging at length, they found themselves near the shore, and\ndirectly opposite a high cliff of peculiar shape, which overhung the\nwater like a petrified cataract.\n\n\u201cThere, Ernest,\u201d said the princess, pointing at the cliff, \u201cyou see\nthat--we call it \u2018the frozen fall\u2019--now if you can find a maiden\nwilling to exchange with me, bring her there, and let her leap, just as\nthe moon reaches the summit of the heavens, into my arms, which shall\nbe open to catch her. Farewell till then.\u201d\n\nAnd Sulemair, with a little laugh and a playful gesture, sunk beneath\nthe surface and was gone immediately. Ernest would have followed,\nto assure her once more that he would certainly return; but to his\nsurprise he found the water, which had so long been like a native\nelement to him, had suddenly become a foreign one, and he was obliged\nto swim vigorously to gain the shore, which, while he was floating with\nSulemair, had seemed so near and easy of access.\n\nOnce landed, Ernest immediately set out upon his strange search. He\ntravelled far and wide, and tried to persuade many beautiful maidens\nto change their earthly condition for a life beneath the sea. But some\nlaughed in his face, some told him he was a madman who should be shut\nup, some shuddered, and said they were frightened at the very idea,\nand some tried to persuade him to stay with them instead.\n\nSo one month after another slipped away, until the tenth moon had grown\nfrom a crescent to half its full size, and still the maiden was not\nfound.\n\nGloomy and despairing, Ernest had almost abandoned hope; and one day\nfinding himself in a thick wood just outside a great city, he threw\nhimself upon the ground, and covering his face with his hands, began to\nlament and groan aloud; but after a while, his grief becoming a little\ncalmer, he lay quite still and quiet; to his great surprise, however,\nthe sounds of lamentation still echoed through the stillness of the\nwood, as if the very trees were mourning with him. Thinking that this\ncould hardly be the case, Ernest looked about him in every direction,\nand presently perceived at a little distance a female figure seated\nupon the ground, her face covered with her hands, and her whole form\nshaken with the violence of her grief.\n\nFull of compassion and some little curiosity, Ernest arose, and\napproaching the stranger, asked kindly what was the matter with her.\nLooking up, with a little startled cry, the mourner showed the face of\na young girl, with so striking resemblance to Sulemair, that the lover\nuttered an exclamation of astonishment; but without heeding this, the\nyoung girl said sadly,--\n\n\u201cYou ask what is the matter, sir, that I thus weep and lament. I\nwill tell you; for you look kind and good. My father, whom they call\na traitor, though no man is less so, is to be beheaded at sunrise\nto-morrow, and I shall be left alone in the wide world.\u201d Saying this,\nshe burst into fresh tears and sobs. Ernest sat down beside her, and\nwhen her grief had a little subsided, told her how sorry he felt for\nher, and that if he could in any way help her or her father, he would\ndo so. Then he told her his own story, and asked if she could help him.\n\nVeria (this was the maiden\u2019s name) listened attentively to Ernest\u2019s\nstory, and when he had finished, sat for a moment thinking. Then,\nholding out her hand to the youth, she said,--\n\n\u201cI will be the maiden for whom you search, Ernest, if you will find\nmeans to save my father\u2019s life. Gladly will I give mine for his; and if\nI can make you and Sulemair happy at the same time, it will be so much\nthe more joy. Will you try, Ernest?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will try, Veria,\u201d said the young man, sadly; for he did not quite\nlike the idea, after all, of seeing Veria throw herself into the sea,\nand become a mer-maiden.\n\nNevertheless, he rose, and walked quickly toward the city, leaving the\nmaiden still weeping in the wood.\n\nHaving engaged a lodging at a small inn near the city gate, Ernest\nmingled with a group of men at the door of the inn, who were busily\ntalking in a low voice, and who did not notice that a stranger had\njoined them.\n\n\u201cBut what will they do for an executioner to-morrow,\u201d said one, \u201csince\nVincent cannot be found?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you suppose some of Hugo\u2019s friends hired him to run away, that the\nexecution might be deferred?\u201d asked another.\n\n\u201cLike enough,\u201d responded a third; \u201cand if it could be put off\naltogether, I don\u2019t think any one would be sorry; for, after all, what\nhas this Hugo done, to have his head chopped off? There are more worse\nthan better men, I\u2019ll be bound.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the first cautiously, \u201cand I, for my part, would gladly\nhelp to set him free, if it could be done.\u201d\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d responded the second, \u201cbut how is that to be accomplished?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you, good friends,\u201d interrupted Ernest, \u201c_I_ will set\nhim free, if you will only help me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou, young man? How will you do it?\u201d\n\n\u201cCome close to me, and I will tell you my plan.\u201d\n\nThe citizens crowded about Ernest, who in a very low voice told them a\nplan which had just occurred to him, and which they all agreed was an\nexcellent one. Each promised to help him in every way that he should\npoint out, and all kept their word.\n\nThat very night Ernest presented himself to the governor of the city\nas an executioner from another town, who was willing to take the\nplace of Vincent, the missing officer, who had suddenly disappeared.\nThe governor asked, of course, for his certificates of character and\nability, but Ernest was ready for him; for his good friends of the\ntavern had provided him with papers, which, if not quite as genuine,\nwere just as good looking as any executioner could have shown.\n\nThe governor read all the papers carefully, examined the signatures,\nasked Ernest a good many questions, and finished by engaging him,\noffering to pay him half the price for which they agreed in advance;\nbut Ernest, who was too honest to take money for work which he never\nmeant to do, said he preferred to wait, and have it altogether.\n\nThe next morning at sunrise was the time appointed, and a great crowd\nhad collected to witness the execution; but Ernest saw with pleasure\nthat his new friends had contrived to get places next the scaffold, and\nall looked determined and ready.\n\nPresently the criminal, Hugo, as he was called, was brought from the\ninterior of the prison, and Ernest felt a double longing to save him\nwhen he saw how much he resembled Veria.\n\nMaking a pretence of arranging his dress that it might not interfere\nwith the blow, he whispered rapidly that he was no executioner, but\nwas there to save him; and as he stood close behind him he slyly cut\nthe cords which bound Hugo\u2019s arms, and, slipping a strong knife into\nhis hand, bid him do just as he did.\n\nHugo, although startled for a moment, soon recovered his\nself-possession, and, in a whisper, said he was ready.\n\nThen Ernest, springing from the scaffold into the midst of the group of\nfriends who were waiting for him, brandished his axe about his head,\ncrying,--\n\n\u201cRescue! rescue! Good men, rescue!\u201d\n\nHugo, flourishing his knife, and crying out, \u201cHelp! friends, help!\u201d\nfollowed immediately; and the little group, each of whom drew a knife,\na dagger, a pistol, or some other weapon, closed about them, all\ncrying, \u201cRescue! rescue!\u201d which induced many others to join them.\n\nMore than this, the people, who all wished well to Hugo, made way for\nhim and his friends to pass, but closed up when the soldiers tried to\nfollow them, which caused much delay and vexation to the pursuers.\nReaching the city gates, Hugo, Ernest, and one or two others, rushed\nout, and their friends, snatching the keys from the astonished guard,\nlocked the gates, and threw the keys over the wall; then, hiding their\nweapons and mingling in the crowd, they escaped unrecognized.\n\nThe little group outside meantime had gained the wood, where horses\nwere waiting for them; and Hugo, with one hurried kiss and good-by\nto Veria (who also was there waiting for him), mounted with one or\ntwo friends and rode off at full speed, and that same night left the\ncountry forever.\n\nErnest and Veria, at the same time mounting the two remaining horses,\nset out in another direction, and when the angry soldiers from the\ncity had at last forced the gate and reached the forest, they found it\nsilent and deserted; nor did they ever again see one of the fugitives.\n\nErnest and Veria, saying but little to each other, and both exceedingly\nsorrowful, rode all that day, and the next, and the next, until, the\nvery evening when the tenth full moon was rising majestically from the\nsea, they turned loose their exhausted horses at the foot of the cliff\nwhich Sulemair had named the Frozen Fall.\n\nSilently the two climbed the cliff, until they had nearly reached its\ncrest, and then, Ernest motioning his companion to seat herself on\na flat, gray rock which lay there, threw himself at her feet, and,\nlooking up in her face, said,--\n\n\u201cVeria, I will not have it so. Why are you to sacrifice yourself that\nSulemair should be happy? She has never known any other life than that\nbeneath the sea, and she will soon forget me and her wild dream of\nbecoming a mortal. I will stay with you, Veria, and we shall all be\nhappy in our own way.\u201d\n\nVeria smiled sadly in the moonlight.\n\n\u201cNo, Ernest,\u201d said she, \u201cI have bought my father\u2019s life, and I will pay\nthe price. Sulemair trusted you, and brought you back to earth that you\nmight win for her the means of living always with you. Shall we be so\nbase as to deceive and defraud her?\u201d\n\nErnest, covering his face, groaned aloud, but did not speak; nor did\neither utter another word until the moon, sailing slowly through the\ncalm, blue ocean of heaven, stood in the zenith smiling down at the\ntwin moon, which smiled up to her from the ocean of waters beneath.\n\nThen Veria, rising, pointed upward, and said softly,--\n\n\u201cErnest, do you see?\u201d\n\nThe young man slowly raised his pale face and looked. Veria, standing\non the very verge of the cliff, the soft night wind floating back her\nsnow-white dress and golden hair, her hands clasped and raised, as were\nher soft eyes, to heaven,--stood ready for the leap.\n\nBelow, gazing up at her, as the moon below gazed up to the moon above,\nfloated Sulemair; her white form gleaming through the still water,\nher yellow hair floating out upon the waves, her snowy arms extended\nupward.\n\n\u201cVeria, Veria, stay!\u201d shouted the young man in agony.\n\n\u201cVeria, Veria, come!\u201d floated up from the water like a mocking echo, in\nthe silvery voice of Sulemair.\n\nErnest sprung forward; but Veria, with one wild glance backward, leaped\nfrom the cliff, and was clasped in the white arms of Sulemair.\n\nMechanically, more with the idea of saving Veria than of greeting her\nrival, Ernest rushed down the path leading to the beach, and stood a\nmoment, with the little laughing waves curling and plashing round his\nfeet.\n\nA white, floating figure rose to the surface, and was borne gently\ntoward him;--plunging in, the young man swam toward her, reached her,\nand drew her out. Then, standing on the moon-lit beach, he gazed in\nastonishment at the being beside him. Fair and golden-haired, she had\nthe dove-like, spiritual eyes of Veria, but the laughing, rose-red\nmouth and dimpled cheek of Sulemair. Upon her head and neck and arms\nshone the crown and pearls of the sea-princess, but her form was\nclothed in the modest garments of the earth-maiden. All that he had\nloved, all that was best and dearest of each, was there. Who was it?\n\n\u201cVeria!--Sulemair!\u201d stammered Ernest. \u201cWhich are you? What does this\nmean? Speak to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Ernest!\u201d said a voice as true and loving as Veria, as arch and\nplayful as Sulemair, \u201cI am both,--all. What each wanted, the other\npossessed,--I am the childlike, frolicsome mer-maiden joined to the\ntrue heart and immortal soul of Veria. When we clasped our arms about\neach other, the heart of each leaped to meet that of the other; in a\nmoment we were one,--two in one. Do you like me, Ernest?\u201d\n\n\u201cLike you, my queen, my angel?\u201d exclaimed the youth, clasping her to\nhis heart; \u201cI love you with twofold love. All my old love for Sulemair,\nall my new love for Veria, has mingled in my heart, as you two have\nmingled soul and body; and my love is as much stronger for you than for\neither of those, as you now are more perfect and more charming than\neither half could have been alone.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut my name?\u201d murmured the maiden, \u201cwhat will you call me, now that I\nhave lost both those which I bore before?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will call you Una now, for you are perfect--you are one,--a woman;\nand can be no better, no higher.\u201d\n\nAnd the moon beamed, and the wavelets crisped in her pure light at\ntheir feet; and their hearts had room for no more joy.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CASTLE ON THE CLIFF\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPerched upon a high cliff which overhung the mouth of a mighty river,\nstood the castle of the Baron von Hoche, and beneath it, in a little\nharbor sheltered by the huge rocks stretching into the water on either\nside, lay the boats in which the baron with his crew of ruffians used\nto attack and plunder all vessels which tried to pass up or down\nthe river; so that after a while, no ship thought of attempting the\npassage, unless it was armed with sufficient force to beat off the\npirates, who would be sure to assail it.\n\nOther times, the baron and his troop would mount their horses, and,\nswooping down the road which led to the plains below, would pounce upon\nunwary travellers or rich trains of merchandise, and force them to\ngive up all they had of value. In short, the Baron von Hoche and his\nfollowers were so wicked and so bold that the whole country trembled\nwhen only his name was mentioned.\n\nA little distance below the castle stood the hut of old Hans the\nfisherman, who dwelt there alone with Fritzchen, his little son; and\nthither came, one Christmas morning, a servant from the castle, with a\nmessage that the baron would make a great feast that night, and that\nHans must supply twice the amount of fish, which he carried daily to\nthe castle as Reiter-malle or black-mail, with which to purchase the\nbaron\u2019s protection and good-will.\n\nSo Hans, bidding Fritzchen follow him, went down to the shore, and,\nloosing his little boat, spread the tattered sail, and set out for\nhis favorite fishing-ground. All day Hans and Fritzchen, fearful that\nthey were wrong in laboring even at the command of their master, upon\nthe birthday of the Lord Jesus, sung hymns and anthems, and repeated\npious sentences from good books which they had heard read in the\nconvent chapel, where they sometimes went; and this pious conduct had\nits reward, for the fish, crowding to the boat to hear the holy music,\nwere taken in crowds, and it was hardly more than noon when Hans again\nhoisted his ragged sail and turned his boat\u2019s head homeward.\n\n\u201cNow, my Fritzchen,\u201d said he, as they landed, \u201chere are more fish than\nthe baron bade us bring, or than they can use; so we will take out four\nfor ourselves, and will make a little Christmas feast of our own.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood, dear father!\u201d said Fritzchen. \u201cAnd let me take out this great\nturbot, the finest of the whole load, and carry it to the convent, that\nthe good fathers may add it to their feast to-night. The baron will\nthen have three times as many as we carry him every day.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my Fritzchen, it is far to the convent, and the ground is covered\ndeep with snow,\u201d said the father anxiously.\n\n\u201cOh, that will not hurt me.\u201d said Fritzchen skipping about; \u201cI shall\nrun so fast that I shall keep myself warm, and the way will seem so\nshort that I shall hardly start before I reach there.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo, then, good child,\u201d said the old man, fondly patting the boy\u2019s\nshoulder. \u201cBut first carry this fish to the castle, with our humble\nduty and Christmas greeting.\u201d\n\nSo Fritzchen, taking the great sack of fish upon his shoulder, trudged\naway to the castle, where he went to the kitchen to leave his load.\nHere he found old Brigitta, the housekeeper, fuming round and scolding\neverybody, because she had so much work to do. Fritzchen, cap in hand,\nlaid his sack of fish upon the floor and gave his father\u2019s message.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, a merry Christmas to idlers like you, who have nothing to do\nbut catch a few miserable fish, it may be,\u201d said the cross old woman.\n\u201cBut for me, who have the whole castle on my shoulders, and no one to\ndo a hand\u2019s turn to help me;--but, there now, why can\u2019t you go, my\nFritzchen, to the town and buy the candles?\u201d pursued the old woman,\nchanging to a wheedling tone as a new thought crossed her mind.\n\n\u201cThe candles, ma\u2019am?\u201d asked Fritzchen.\n\n\u201cYes, child; we have not more than half candles enough to illuminate\nthe castle, and the baron has ordered that every window shall blaze\nto-night; so go you to the town and buy me a dozen pounds, and you\nshall have three pennies for yourself to buy a Christmas-box.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, indeed, ma\u2019am, I will go; and I can go to the convent on the\nway,\u201d said the boy, gayly.\n\n\u201cAnd what do you go to the convent for?\u201d asked the dame curiously.\n\n\u201cTo carry a great fish to the fathers for their Christmas supper,\u201d said\nFritzchen simply.\n\n\u201cAnd get your pay in Aves and Paters, eh?\u201d said the dame, with a sneer.\n\u201cI\u2019ve seen enough of priests, if they\u2019re all like old Father Boniface,\nwho drank himself to death here last year at Whitsuntide. Well, here\u2019s\nyour money, and mind you get me the best candles, and be sure to get\nhome before dark.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be as quick as I can, ma\u2019am,\u201d said Fritz sorrowfully, for it\ngrieved him to hear any one slight the good fathers, whom he loved, and\nwho had been so kind to him.\n\nRunning home for the fish, he told his father hurriedly of his errand,\nand that he should be later home than he expected; but old Hans\npromised to have supper all ready without his help, and bid him haste\naway.\n\nSo Fritzchen with the fish at his back, and a great piece of black\nbread in his hand for dinner, set out, whistling merrily as he ran over\nthe snowy ground.\n\nArriving at the convent, he left his great fish with the kitchener,\nwho, besides thanking him, gave him his blessing and a beautiful\npicture of the Virgin Mary all dressed in a blue gown with a red mantle\nand a green scarf wound about her head. The picture was in a little\nwooden frame, and Fritzchen thought that surely nothing else in the\nwide world could be one half so fine or valuable.\n\nHis picture under his arm, the little boy ran on to the town, which\nwas still half a mile off; and there, having bought dame Brigitta\u2019s\ncandles, he spent his three pennies; one in buying two little rolls\nof white bread to add to their Christmas supper, and the rest for two\nsmall candles of yellow wax, with which he said to himself he would\nilluminate their cottage in honor of the holy Christmas night. Then\nFritzchen turned his face homeward and hurried along, now running,\nnow walking, but always singing,--with his mouth when he had breath,\nand with his heart when he had not,--until he reached the foot of the\ncliff, and began to climb the steep pathway leading to the castle of\nthe robber-baron.\n\nBut here, half way up the ascent, he paused, shuddering with fright and\nastonishment. The servants were just beginning to light up the windows,\nand while the great square keep, which formed the centre of the castle,\nfrowned in black and sullen shadow, the two wings--one of which was\nthe great banqueting-hall, and the other the neglected and ruined\nchapel--were in a blaze of light.\n\nBut this was not what had so startled Fritzchen. The banqueting-hall,\nwhere already the guests were assembled, was illuminated not only by\nthe lights within, but by a lurid, deep-red cloud, or mist, which,\nfalling lower and lower, seemed about to swallow it altogether; beneath\nthe cloud, brooding indeed on the very roof-tree of the hall, hovered\na huge, bat-like figure, black as midnight, who, slowly flapping his\ngreat wings, seemed to draw with them the lurid cloud ever nearer and\nnearer.\n\nThe chapel, too, was illuminated in otherwise than by Dame Brigitta\u2019s\ncandles, for over it and around it shone a soft, clear light, white\nand pure, by which Fritzchen could see a beautiful silver-white dove,\nclinging to the roof, and seeming, with the gentle motion of its wings,\nto create and retain the heavenly radiance which surrounded it. In the\neast, toward which the chapel wing pointed, rose the calm, pure moon\nfrom out the sea; but in the west, opposite the banqueting-hall, great\nangry thunderclouds were gathering sullenly and slow,--but rising,\nalways rising.\n\nFritzchen stood long looking at these strange appearances, not\ndaring to approach any nearer to the castle, and once he turned to\nrun homeward; but just then he remembered that he had promised Dame\nBrigitta to buy her candles, and had taken the money which she had\ngiven him for doing so. He remembered, too, the words which his father\nhad often repeated to him,--\n\n\u201cGod and duty first--self last.\u201d\n\nSo, keeping his eyes upon the ground, he rapidly approached the castle,\nand went round the chapel-end (though the path lay the other side) to\nthe kitchen door, gave his parcel to one of the maids without speaking,\nand then, never looking behind, ran toward home as fast as his legs\nwould carry him.\n\nOld Hans was ready with the supper, and so merry and full of jokes and\nlaughter, that Fritzchen would not tell him what he had seen, lest it\nshould sadden him, and spoil his little holiday.\n\nSo, while Hans, proud of his cookery dished the smoking fish and placed\nthem on the table, Fritzchen lighted his candles, and placed one before\nthe picture of the Holy Virgin, and the other in the one window of the\nhut, that its light might ascend gratefully toward heaven.\n\nAt the castle, meantime, all was noisy mirth and rude merriment. The\nbaron, sitting at the head of his long table, with his retainers and\ntheir wives, with a few guests of their own stamp ranged down either\nside, ate and drank, laughed, sung, and swore by turns; and each man\npresent, thinking to flatter his humor, ate, drank, laughed, sung, and\nswore likewise, till the sound of their rioting and their blasphemies\nshook the very roof above them, close to which now clung the lurid\ncloud, hiding the bat-like demon, who, brooding closer and closer to\nthe roof-tree, leaned over now and again to glare with great red eyes\nthrough the unshuttered windows at the mad revellers within.\n\n\u201cMore wine--more!\u201d shouted the baron every moment; and the old butler\nwas forced to make so many journeys from the hall to the cellar and the\ncellar to the hall, that he had not time to drink more than six bottles\nto his own share, and grumbled loudly at the hardships of such a life.\n\nBut at last the baron, in the very midst of a horrible oath, dropped\nhis head upon the table, and sunk into a heavy, drunken sleep. Many of\nthe others followed his example, and for the rest old Peter did not\ncare; so, muttering to himself \u201c\u2018Every dog shall have his day,\u2019 and mine\ncomes now,\u201d he took a candle from the table and descended once more to\nthe cellar, locking the door behind him, lest he should be interrupted.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cThe best, the oldest and the best,\u201d muttered he, staggering around\namong the casks and bottles. \u201cI won\u2019t live such a dog\u2019s life for\nnought,--I will have my pleasure too, when I get a chance.\u201d Talking\nin this way to himself, the butler suddenly came upon a dim old cask\nstanding under an arch in the western wing of the castle, and so\nconcealed that he had not noticed it before.\n\n\u201cAha! what have we here?\u201d muttered he, stooping, and putting his auger\ninto the wood near the bottom of the cask. \u201cSome rare old vintage,\nI\u2019ll be bound, that\u2019s been hid away here ever since the castle was\na convent,--we\u2019re not much like a convent now, I think. Saint Jude!\nwhat stuff have we here?--droll wine this,\u201d added he, as a stream of\nsomething black and shining followed the auger when he drew it out.\nFull of curiosity, he stooped to examine it. Just then a terrific peal\nof thunder rocked the cliff to its foundation; at the same instant a\nblinding bolt shot from roof-tree to cellar,--and, in another moment,\nbutler, castle, and revellers were blown altogether hundreds of feet\ninto the air.\n\nThe terrible noise of the explosion wakened both Hans and Fritzchen;\nbut, too much terrified to rise or look out, they only clung the closer\nto each other, and said over and over all the prayers that they knew.\n\nAt last, an hour after every thing was still, they timidly rose,\nand, holding fast by each other\u2019s hand, crept to the door and looked\nout. All about the little hut lay great stones, beams, and fragments;\nbut not the smallest pebble had touched the humble roof, on which now\nperched, surrounded by its pure, soft light, the silver-white dove.\n\n\u201cThe castle, father! the dove has left the castle!\u201d cried Fritzchen.\n\u201cCome and see what has befallen it.\u201d\n\nStill hand in hand they hastened up the cliff. On its summit stood\nnothing but cold, gray walls, roofless and desolate, through whose\nempty window places the setting moon cast long, mournful beams, while\noverhead the gloomy thunderclouds were breaking and rolling away in\ngreat masses.\n\nHans and Fritzchen stood long looking at the ruin, but neither spoke;\nand presently they silently turned, and, re\u00ebntering the little\nhut, over which still clung the bright cloud--although the dove had\nflown--they trimmed the little candles which yet burned with a clear,\nsteady light, and, having once more murmured a prayer, lay down and\nagain slept sweetly and calmly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                          Transcriber\u2019s Notes\n\n New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the\n public domain.\n\n Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.\n\n Chapter headings as listed in the Table of Contents have been added to\n the text.","title":"Fairy dreams : $b or, Wanderings in Elf-land","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":26048}