{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_9952/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_9952","id":"gutenberg_9952","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9952","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Mary Meehan, and the Project\nGutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Faery Tales of Weir\n\nBy Anna McClure Sholl\n\n1908\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nTHE FAERY TALES OF WEIR\n\nTHE TALE OF THE BLUE GLOVE\n\nTHE INVISIBLE WALL\n\nTHE TREE IN THE DARK WOOD\n\nTHE CAT THAT WINKED\n\nTHE MAGIC TEARS\n\nTHE GOLDEN ARCHER\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE TOWN OF WEIR]\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAERY TALES OF WEIR\n\n\nOnly in far-away towns are the real faery tales told in shadowy nurseries\nwhose windows in summer open upon shimmering gardens and on whose walls\nin winter the fire-goblins dance. Weir is one of these towns--a sweet,\nhushed place, lying where the hills spread broadly to the south sun, and\nthe trees are thick as in a painting.\n\nThere are shops, too, with bulging windows through which you can scarcely\nsee the toys or the flowers or the sweetmeats, because Time has\nfinger-marked the glass with violet and crimson stains that shift and\nmerge so that the contents of the windows are seen as through wavering\nsea-water. Beyond the shops are the houses asleep beneath great trees,\ntheir warm red bricks showing where the ivy has thinned. Their stacked\nchimneys send out faint blue spirals of smoke, to let you know that the\nfires are on the hearths and about the hearths the children are gathered.\n\nThe little old churches placed where Weir drowses out into the country,\nhave hoarse, sweet bells like the voices of old women who whisper of the\nChrist Child at Christmas time; and in the churches are windows as full\nof color as the gardens of Weir.\n\nThe sleepy, forgotten town was famous for nothing but its faery tales\ntold long ago to children whose bright eyes have looked by now on wider\nscenes, and whose voices have died away on that wind upon which all\nvoices sink from hearing at last. I sometimes wonder whether in\nimagination they all troop back at the twilight hour: Hubert to cuddle up\nin the wing-chair; James to stretch out on the hearth-rug; Veronica and\nlittle Eve to nurse their dolls and gaze through the nursery window half\nfearfully at the striding dusk, or to listen to the tap upon the panes of\nflying leaves when the great winds rise. Where is Richard who always\nwanted \"a tale never told before,\" and small Spencer with his dreaming\neyes and baby mouth? Where is quaint Matilda with her plaid dress and her\nstraight black hair; where is Ruth?\n\nWherever they are, I like to think that to them Weir is always their true\nhome; and their hearts really live in that broad shadowy house where the\nsteps of the staircase were so wide and shallow that each was a little\nlanding in itself; and where the candles flamed at night in high sconces;\nand in the halls was a rustling of silk; and in the air the smell of\nflowers and burning wood. The nursery was high up under the eaves, so\nthat the rest of the house seemed far-away--a wonderful region where\nmusic might sound, or where, by stealing down, one might see fair ladies\nlike the princesses of the tales smiling at gallant gentlemen. One's own\nmother might turn, indeed, into a princess just before it was time to go\nto bed, with white arms and jewels upon her neck.\n\nThen one fell asleep knowing that no day in Weir could be without its\nenchantment, whether the clouds seemed caught in the tree-tops, or the\nsnow flew and made the red roofs white; or whether the sun danced on the\ngreen lawns, for each day ended with a faery tale, and these are the\ntales of Weir.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TALE OF THE BLUE GLOVE\n\n\nThe King of the South country was not as happy as a king ought to be\nwhose subjects are both peaceful and industrious. Every night when the\nmoths were flying and the tall candles were lit in the hall, when the\nsoft air was musical with the strumming of harps, and the sweet\ncomplaint of violins, he would walk out on the great parapet with one\nhand under his chin and his head drooping; then the courtiers would say,\n\"The King is sad.\"\n\nIf he looked out he could see town after town, like strings of pearls and\ncorals, with blue smoke coming from the chimneys of red-roofed houses,\nand beyond the towns the sea like a green bowl. If he looked straight\ndown he could see a rush of color, as if the flowers were coming up to\nhim in billowy waves.\n\nBut the King was not happy, for the reason that he wanted to marry his\nthree sons, and he didn't know of any princesses who would, so to speak,\nfill the bill. He had journeyed over the mountains to inspect several\nlittle ladies who were brought to him, in their stiff satin gowns to\nmake their curtsey and smile their prettiest, but none of them seemed\ndesirable for a daughter. The King knew, indeed, very much what he\nwanted. She mustn't chatter and she mustn't be too fond of chocolates in\ngold and enameled boxes; and she mustn't have likes and dislikes; and\nshe must be patient, for all really royal people know how to wait; and\nshe must possess the beautiful art of smiling. The King had seen her in\nthe frames of old paintings, still and sweet and jeweled, but never\nalive and lovely.\n\nOn the evening when this tale begins the King was watching the three\nprinces play at ball. The ball was of scented Spanish leather covered\nwith crimson silk on which was stamped the sporting dolphin of the royal\nhouse. Sometimes it would drop to the green turf where the parrots would\npeck at it, thinking it a gorgeous apple. The hooded falcon on the\njester's arm knew better, for the jester fed him real apples.\n\nPrince Hugh, Prince Merlin, and Prince Richard were as supple as willows,\nas straight as pines, as graceful as silver birches. Their blond hair\nhung thick and straight against their necks and was cut square above\ntheir level brows. Their manners were so good that their father didn't\nquite know their characters; and that made the problem of their marriages\nmore difficult.\n\nAll at once, as on a stage, they stopped playing ball and began to look\nat something or someone. The King followed their eyes, and saw a strange\nsight. A young girl with a great dog at her side was coming slowly over\nthe grass, her hands clasped above her breast, her long golden hair\nhanging nearly to the hem of her gown which was of coarse brown wool. She\nhad no stockings, and on her feet she wore wooden shoes.\n\nThat a peasant girl should walk across the royal gardens was enough to\nmake the princes stare. Then the King saw that they were looking at\nthe girl's hands, of which one was bare. On the other was a glove of\nblue cut-velvet, heavily embroidered with a design of flowers which\ncircled themselves about a tiny mirror set exactly on the wrist; no\nglove for a peasant!\n\nShe came slowly up the great stairs of the terrace as if she were\nexpected. By this time the court-lackeys had rushed out, full of\nofficiousness, to stop the outrage; but the King, at the end of a puzzled\nday, was in no mood to hinder the least diversion. He advanced to meet\nthe visitor, who raised to him a pair of beautiful blue eyes and smiled.\n\n\"Where did she learn to smile?\" thought the King, conscious that the gaze\nof the three princes was still upon the girl.\n\nShe held out the gloved hand. \"King Cuthbert, I am sent to your court by\nKing Luke. Will you be pleased to look in my mirror?\"\n\nHer wrist was raised to the level of his eyes. \"What do you see?\" she\nasked in a soft, solicitous voice.\n\n\"Myself, maiden,\" he replied.\n\nShe sighed, and the tears came in her eyes.\n\n\"Who else could I see?\" he exclaimed.\n\nShe smiled and shook her head, then she nodded towards the three straight\nboys on the lawn. \"Those are your sons?\"\n\n\"Mine, indeed, maiden.\"\n\n\"I am sent to make their acquaintance. I am the niece of King Luke, the\nPrincess Myrtle.\"\n\nKing Cuthbert could not believe his ears, nor trust his eyes, for the\nPrincess Myrtle had great vaults of gold under the thousand-year-old\nturrets of her castle; and pearls like pigeon eggs in the renowned\ndiadem with which the generations of her royal race were crowned kings\nor queens.\n\n\"My uncle sends me as a beggar-maid so that I can make a true marriage. I\ndesire to be loved for myself alone. Speak not of me to the court, but\ndeal with me as I appear to be.\"\n\nKing Cuthbert gazed in admiration at her, for she had the voice of one\nwho thinks more than she speaks and feels more than she thinks, which is\nthe proper order for great and little ladies. \"Here,\" thought he, \"is the\nchild I have been seeking. I will not tell the three straight-limbed lads\nso beautifully mannered who or what she is, but I will say that a friend\nhath sent an orphaned girl to be protected by me; then I will watch how\nthey treat her, and learn at last what my sons are.\"\n\n\"Princess Myrtle,\" he said, \"I will henceforth treat you as an orphaned\nand poor girl. Is that to your liking?\"\n\n\"It is my wish, Sir,\" she answered, and suddenly a rising wind blew all\nthe strands of her hair into a cloud of gold, so that her coarse wool\ndress appeared brocaded; and while she was thus sumptuously clothed a\ngreat peacock in iridescent array strutted by her, and she placed her\ngloved hand for a moment on his shining feathers, looking, indeed, a\nprincess. Back of her the courtiers stared and rubbed their eyes. The\nthree slim boys on the lawn were smiling.\n\nPrince Hugh tossed the scarlet ball to her and she caught it lightly as\nif she were making a curtsey.\n\n\"Take the ball back to him,\" said the King, \"and tell him I sent you.\"\n\nAs she went down through the parterres of flowers she was as straight\nas a delphinium and fresh-colored as a rose. Where the great trees\nclouded into the sky she looked as little as a floating petal; but when\nshe stepped upon the sward, she seemed to grow tall like an upward\nsoaring flame.\n\nThough she walked with such courage towards the three slim lads her heart\nwas beating fast, because she was afraid they would not be as noble as\nthey looked. For at court nearly everyone looks noble, and the Princess\nMyrtle had learned how easy it is to keep your eyes level, and your head\nhigh, and your bearing proud; and how hard it is to preserve a sweet\nheart like a rose, within the shadow of this grandeur.\n\nSo she went to meet the princes with a shy, hopeful manner, the scarlet\nball in her hand, and her blue eyes addressed to theirs.\n\n\"I am commanded by your royal father to return to you this ball,\" she\nsaid.\n\n\"I pray you tell me,\" said Prince Hugh, \"how you, being a beggar-maid,\nwalk as if possessed of wealth?\"\n\nShe smiled. \"All people are rich. Some know it. Some do not.\"\n\nThe princeling gave a royal whistle, and smiled at his brother Richard,\nwho picked a white carnation and began to pull its petals. \"Tell me,\nmaid, why you wear the blue glove?\" he asked.\n\n\"To cover a hand still my own,\" she returned proudly.\n\nMerlin said nothing at all. He took the scarlet ball, bowed, and turned\nfrom her. She raised her eyes to the heights where the turrets cut the\nsky, black against gold, and the whirling sea-birds beat down the seaward\nrushing wind. Then stepping softly, she followed Merlin, who walked on to\na place where the arching trees made a green cave, and in the depths of\nthe cave was a fountain of marble sunk into a round of ferns. At the edge\nthe prince paused, then he dropped the ball into the water, and it sank,\nfor it was solid and heavy.\n\n[Illustration: MERLIN DROPS THE BALL INTO THE FOUNTAIN]\n\n\"Why did you do that?\" cried the Princess.\n\nHe wheeled about, and looked upon her coldly. \"Why have you followed\nme?\" he asked.\n\n\"To pick up the ball, should you drop it.\"\n\n\"The ball is drowned,\" he said.\n\n\"Why did you put it in the water?\" she asked.\n\n\"Because you touched it,\" he replied.\n\nShe was very sad then. \"You scorn to touch what a beggar-maid has\nhandled?\" she asked.\n\nTo this he made no reply, but strolled away into the green wood, while\nwearily she turned back. The stag-hounds, with their collars of jade,\ncame to meet her, and the three enormous Persian cats whose tails were\nlike long plumes. She stooped to caress them, and to hide her tears, for\nPrince Hugh and Prince Richard were coming towards her, and she did not\nwish them to know she was sad.\n\nThey stood like twin trees regarding her, then Prince Richard spoke.\n\"Will you sell your glove, beggar-maid?\" and he drew a piece of gold from\nhis purse.\n\nShe replied: \"I have more need of my glove than of your gold.\"\n\n\"If you were a court lady,\" said Prince Hugh, \"you would know that one\nglove is of no use to anyone.\"\n\n\"If you were a beggar, Sir,\" she replied, \"you would be glad to have one\nhand warm.\"\n\n\"I shall never be a beggar,\" returned the Prince proudly.\n\n\"Yet you begged your father for a cloth-of-silver falcon hood this\nmorning.\"\n\nPrince Richard laughed and his brother stared. \"Are you a witch?\" asked\nthe latter.\n\n\"No, I am not a witch. I lost my way in the gardens before I found the\nright path. You were talking in the arbor by the edge of the lake, and\nyou implored your father, the King, like a beggar on the street corner.\"\n\nPrince Hugh's cheeks were red as peonies. \"Your words are too bold,\nbeggar-maid. If you will not sell your glove, I will take it.\"\n\nShe stretched out her arm. \"You will not be able to take what is\nnot yours!\"\n\n\"Will I not!\" and he rushed at her and began to tug at the glove. His\nface grew redder and redder, but he could not strip off the glove, which\nseemed to have grown to the maid's arm. Suddenly he caught sight of his\nfiery countenance in the little round mirror, and he left off pulling at\nthe glove, but his failure aroused emulation in the heart of Prince\nRichard, who now began to tug at the glove as if it were heavy armor.\n\nThe Princess Myrtle grew as white as a snow-drop in pale wintry sunshine,\nfor it seemed to her that all three of the princes were of base metal\nbeneath their noble bearing. \"Look in the mirror,\" she said pitifully,\n\"and tell me what you see!\"\n\n\"His own red face, I warrant, as I saw mine,\" cried Prince Hugh; then\nPrince Richard seeing how flushed his face was, drew away sulkily; and\nthe Princess walked from them up and up through the parterres of flowers\nto the terrace where the King stood in the evening light, his cloak blown\nout, so that the satin lining showed like a great magnolia petal. His\nlong fingers rested on the marble balustrade, and the royal rings winked\nwickedly at the Princess.\n\nThe King said to her, \"What did my sons say and do to you?\"\n\nThen she related everything.\n\nThe King frowned. \"But how do I know whether you are really the Princess\nMyrtle? You may for all that be but a goose-girl or a beggar-maid.\"\n\nShe replied, \"Let me remain in your court three days as a beggar-maid. If\nat the end of that time you are not sure, turn me out. I, too, will be\nsure of something at the end of three days.\"\n\n\"Of what will you be sure?\" asked the King.\n\n\"Which of you is the real king here.\"\n\nThen King Cuthbert grew red like old leather, and laughed and sighed and\nfrowned. \"God knows, I should myself like that knowledge.\" Then he\nsigned to a court lady, who was looking on with proud eyes. \"Come, Dame\nCaecilia, take this beggar-maid to one of the suites in the palace, and\nput fair clothes on her, and conduct her to the dining-hall when the\nhour strikes.\"\n\nThe court lady smiled to hide her anger, for she dared not disobey, and\nshe beckoned the Princess Myrtle to follow her. They went through a vast\ndoor into a corridor that ran beneath heavy arches, and the walls of this\npassage moved as if alive, but it was only the draught swaying the\ntapestries with their gray trees and knights who rode among the trees\nlike heavy shadows, and long-haired women who watched the knights ride\nwhile they wove flower-wreaths.\n\nThen the proud court lady took the Princess up a winding stair, like the\ntwisted ways of life, down more corridors, then into a room, through\nwhose windows high cypresses looked, and upon whose ceiling little cupids\nflew about.\n\n\"Now, beggar,\" she said angrily, throwing open the door of a wardrobe\nwhere hung silken things, \"make the most of your luck. What will you\nwear? Here is mallow satin sewn with pearls, and with a running border of\njasmine flowers done in sweet embroidery silks. Will it please you? Here\nis a silver cloth, studded with little coral beads over a petticoat of\nancient lace. Here is black velvet softly lined with apricot brocade!\"\n\n\"Nay, none of these will I wear, but my gown of good wool, and in my\nbundle are changes of linen, for I want no lace on my limbs. Send me\nfresh flowers for my hair, I entreat you, and I will bathe and so prepare\nmyself for the court dinner.\"\n\nDame Caecilia stared at her, and moved the golden combs and mirrors\nabout angrily on the dressing-table. \"You will lose me my place at\ncourt,\" she cried.\n\n\"Perhaps it is already lost,\" answered the Princess.\n\n\"You speak not at all like a beggar.\"\n\n\"You never took the trouble to learn what a beggar really says,\" the\nPrincess replied as she stripped the blue glove from her hand.\n\nCuriosity got the better of the court lady's anger. \"What person gave you\nthat glove in place of alms?\" she asked.\n\n\"My godmother out of faery land!\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" cried the Dame, and she departed for the flowers with a face\nlike a withered leaf.\n\nThe little Princess leaned against the sill of the window and sighed, and\nlooked into the blue sphere of the night and wondered on what altar the\nhigh stars were lit. She thought of Merlin who had drowned his ball\nbecause her touch was on it, and her heart throbbed as if a hand were\ndrawing it from her breast to place it out of her reach. She had seen\nlittle maids among the golden shadows of her own court with their white\nhands outstretched towards a heart someone had taken. Now the thrilling\ntouch of that theft was upon her own spirit. Her thoughts followed Merlin\nas if her substance had been changed into his shadow.\n\nAll the court had assembled for dinner, when she entered the banquet\nhall behind the shame-faced Dame Caecilia, who made a curtsey to the\nfloor as she explained to the King that the beggar-maid, being lacking\nin art, refused the silken clothes. \"She would wear only this crown of\nwood violets.\"\n\nThen the Princess curtsied, and all the courtiers laughed, but the King\ngravely bowed to her; and called, \"Prince Hugh.\"\n\nPrince Hugh came forward, looking noble as was his wont in the presence\nof his father. \"What is your will, Sire?\"\n\n\"I desire you to lead this maiden to the banquet.\"\n\n\"Sire, I have already asked the Lady Diana,\" he said and blushed a\nlittle, for he was lying.\n\nThe King then asked a lackey to summon Prince Richard, who came looking\nnoble as was his custom, also, in the presence of his father.\n\n\"I desire you to lead this maiden to the banquet.\"\n\nPrince Richard still endeavored to look noble. \"Sire,\" he replied, \"I am\nnot dining to-night. I have a headache.\"\n\nThen King Cuthbert sent for Prince Merlin. Now when the Princess Myrtle\nheard his name, it seemed to her as if musicians had begun to play in a\nfar-off room. She drooped her head a little lest she should show tears in\nher eyes when he, too, refused her. He came up white and grave with a\nlook that was not patient. When his father made the request of him that\nhe made of his other sons, Prince Merlin bowed and extended his arm to\nthe beggar-girl, but he was as silent as a wood before a storm. Only the\nPrincess quivered like a leaf that expects a great wind to pass.\n\n\"Did you obey your father because you are sorry for me?\" she whispered.\n\n\"No, I obeyed him because he is the King, not I. I am sorry for myself\nrather than you.\"\n\nThen the Princess felt her soul sink into a gulf, but she smiled and\nate the food that was offered her, and made no attempt to speak to\nPrince Merlin.\n\nAll the next day she wandered in the rose-alleys, through marvelous\nterraces, and under the great trees, but no one spoke to her, nor could\nshe see anything but vanishing forms; and so it was until evening, when\nwearied, she sat down on a bench and gazed into her mirror and gave a cry\nof joy. \"Now,\" said she, \"I love truly. By this sign I know I love truly,\nfor I see Merlin's face in the mirror and not my own.\"\n\nThen she went alone to her rooms through the vast corridors, and stood\nbefore the long mirrors which were not magic, but only meant to\nreflect earthly vanities; and from the shining marble floor came up a\nkind of radiance about her. She opened the cedar doors of the\nwardrobes, and there issued a scent as of costly silk that has been\nperfumed with iris root.\n\nThe temptation was heavy upon her to clothe herself delicately that she\nmight please Merlin; and never before had beautiful clothes seemed so\nwonderful to her. She ran her long white fingers through the folds of\nsilk, and let the laces cascade over her arms; but in the end she changed\nonly her wooden shoes for little dancing slippers of violet velvet, and\nagain she put fresh violets in her hair.\n\nWhen she entered the banquet hall, she found the King on the dais, and on\none side of him stood Prince Hugh in a rose-satin dancing dress; and on\nthe other Prince Richard in a garb of yellow velvet. Both wore jeweled\ngirdles to which were attached little shining swords with opals in the\nhilts. About the throne were grouped the courtiers; and beyond the\ncourtiers were the knights and ladies of the frescoed walls which bore\nthe history of King Cuthbert's ancestors; girls like drifting blossoms,\nmatrons like sweet fruit, and knights like strong trees.\n\nThe white velvet curtains before the tall casements shut out the stars,\nbut all the heavens seemed recorded by the glowing wax-candles. Down the\ncenter of the room ran the banquet-table with dishes of gold; and plumage\nof rare birds nesting strange viands; and the sweet cheeks of summer\nfruits showing through the heaped blossoms of rose, gardenia, and\nhoneysuckle. There were sweetmeats on dishes of pierced silver and\nbetween these played into broad glass bowls jets of scented water, making\na lake where tiny swans swam.\n\nBut all this beauty was nothing to Princess Myrtle, because she did not\nsee Prince Merlin in the room; nor at the banquet did he appear. So she\ncould eat but a little fruit, and that was without taste to her.\n\nAfter the banquet the court repaired to the dancing-hall, where already\nthe musicians were strumming upon their instruments, so that everyone's\nfeet began to move rhythmically. Then King Cuthbert beckoned the Princess\nMyrtle to him and said: \"I see that you have put on dancing-slippers.\nWith whom will you dance?\"\n\n\"With myself, Sire, should I have no partner,\" she replied smiling.\n\nAt that moment Prince Merlin approached the throne clothed all in black\nsilk, more appropriate for a scene of mourning than of festivity; and the\nKing said to him: \"Wilt thou lead this beggar-maid in the dance?\"\n\nThe Prince's face grew as white for a moment as the lace of his collar,\nbut he replied proudly, \"At a ball a man chooses his own partners.\"\n\nThen the Princess Myrtle's heart felt as weary as feet on a long road;\nbut she awaited patiently the King's next word, which was spoken to\nPrince Richard and Prince Hugh, inviting them to dance with the\nbeggar-maid. Each made an excuse. Then King Cuthbert addressed her.\n\"Dance with yourself, beggar-girl,\" and he had the heralds proclaim\nthat this stranger who wore brown wool in court would go on the floor\nalone. Everyone laughed and clapped their hands, only Prince Merlin bit\nhis lip and looked prouder than ever, which, when she saw, the Princess\nMyrtle thought, \"I will dance so beautifully that he will ask me to be\nhis partner.\"\n\nThen she let down her hair from beneath her crown of flowers, and went\ninto the center of the circle that the court had formed, and began to\nsway a little like a flower in the breeze. Soon the court found itself\nswaying with her, so that it was like a garden when the wind rises. But\nwhen all were moving, the Princess saw that Prince Merlin stood like a\npine-tree that will not bend its head unless the tempest comes out of\nthe North. So she changed from a flower to a butterfly and began a\nfluttering, glancing motion, and threw back her golden locks like\nwings. Everyone watching her became very still, only Prince Merlin\nmoved restlessly, and once he put his hand across his eyes as if the\nsun were in them.\n\nWhen she had finished the King cried \"Bravo,\" and then the court crowded\nabout her, and Prince Hugh and Prince Richard asked her to dance with\nthem; but Prince Merlin did not ask her, though he led out many ladies;\nand because of that it was as if she were dancing in the snow and rain,\nor on sharp stones.\n\nThe pain in her heart grew violent, and drove her at last to the\norange-tree near which he stood. On the edge of its marble tub she sat\ndown to rest, and all at once a golden orange dropped in her lap. She\nheld it out to him. \"You have drowned your scarlet ball, take this.\"\n\n\"Nay, for it is perishable,\" he said.\n\nThen tears like pearls came slowly from her eyes and she was driven\nto say: \"You alone have not asked me to dance. Did not my dancing\nplease you?\"\n\nHe replied, \"I am not like my brothers,\" and he bowed and left her.\n\nThat night she lay on her broad bed beneath silken covers and sobbed\nbitterly because her heart told her that Prince Merlin was noble; yet her\nmemory stung her with his cold words and averted eyes. Soon the third day\nwould be over, and she would have to leave the court; for even if King\nCuthbert acknowledged that she was a princess, what did that matter if\nMerlin did not know that she was his queen?\n\nAll next day she sat on the terrace which looks seaward and counted the\nsails coming up over the horizon like white petals blown from an\ninvisible garden; and she would say, \"If five come within a space of half\nan hour there will be hope for me\"; but she always lost count, in\nthinking of his face.\n\nThat night she took off her woolen dress and she clothed herself in laces\nand over the laces she put on a cream silk gown all woven with apple\nblossoms, and she placed flowers upon her hair; then flashed before the\nmirror and smiled to see herself so beautiful. \"Surely,\" she thought, \"he\nwill not turn from me to-night.\"\n\nThen she put on her dancing-slippers; and went down. When she entered\nthe banquet hall there was a stir and a murmur; and even King Cuthbert\nwas silent with amazement over her beauty. Prince Hugh and Prince\nRichard came forward to meet her, and they bowed low, and looked very\nnoble, indeed.\n\n\"Our father has played a merry jest upon us,\" they said. \"You are,\nindeed, a princess and no beggar-maid.\" Then they began to dispute which\nshould take her in to dinner. But her eyes were all for Prince Merlin,\nwho, when the courtiers crowded about her and proclaimed her a princess,\nlooked straight away from her. This was as a little sword in her heart,\nbut the grief that dimmed her eyes made her appear even more beautiful.\n\nAfter the banquet all proceeded to the dancing-hall, and King Cuthbert\ngave his arm to her. \"Now I know thou art the Princess Myrtle. Which of\nmy sons hast thou chosen?\"\n\n\"A woman is chosen; she does not choose,\" she replied, for her heart was\nheavy. \"To-night I must leave your court.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou continue thy search, Princess Myrtle?\" the King said\nanxiously.\n\n\"No, I will return to my Kingdom.\"\n\n\"And what wilt thou do there?\"\n\n\"I will weep,\" she answered.\n\nShe danced a measure with Prince Hugh and a measure with Prince Richard;\nthen she saw that though Prince Merlin was in white satin and gold he did\nnot dance, but stood alone by the orange-tree.\n\nWhen she was free she sent a herald to fetch him, for now she desired no\nlonger to play a part, but to be herself. He came slowly to where she\nstood, and bowed before her in silence.\n\n\"Tell me, Prince Merlin,\" she said, \"if you agree with these courtiers\nthat to-night I am become a princess?\"\n\n\"I do not agree with them,\" he answered. \"Clothes do not make a\nprincess.\"\n\nThen they looked at each other. \"Will you meet me,\" she said, \"on the\nedge of the wild forest in half an hour's time?\"\n\n\"I am your servant,\" he replied.\n\nShe stole away to her rooms, where the moonlight lay athwart the\ntessellated marble floor, and opened the casement and placed the lamp\nthere, which was to be the signal for her attendants to have her horses\nready on the edge of the wild forest. Then she put on the gown she had\nworn as a beggar-girl, and her wooden shoes, and let her hair down over\nher shoulders.\n\nThe way to the wild forest was haunted with shadows and little fleeing\nthings; and the night-owls called, but she remembered the look in\nMerlin's eyes, and conquered her fears.\n\nAnd there he was waiting, with the moonlight gleaming on his white satin;\nand his face turned to the path up which she came.\n\nShe held out her hand to him with the blue velvet glove upon it, and she\nsaid softly, \"Will you look into my mirror, Prince Merlin?\"\n\n\"I am your servant,\" he said again, then looked.\n\nHis eyes became full of light. \"I see your face,\" he cried; and sank upon\none knee. She gave him both her hands.\n\n\"What am I to you?\" she asked. \"A princess?\"\n\n\"No,\" he whispered.\n\n\"A beggar-girl?\"\n\n\"No,\" he whispered.\n\n\"What then?\"\n\n\"Thou art my love.\"\n\nThen all the birds in all the world sang in her heart. \"Tell me,\" she\nsaid, \"why, then, didst thou sink thy ball?\"\n\n\"That no hands should ever touch it after thine.\"\n\n\"And why didst thou say when thou didst lead me in to dinner, that thou\nwast sorry not for me, but for thyself?\"\n\n\"I feared that thou wouldst never love me.\"\n\nThen she laughed joyfully and asked, \"Why didst thou say 'I am not like\nmy brothers' when I asked thee to dance?\"\n\n\"I wanted thee for thyself, not for thy dancing.\"\n\nAnd now the stars moved all to nuptial music. \"One question more,\" she\ncried. \"Why didst thou say 'Clothes do not make a princess'?\"\n\n\"Because I knew thou wast a princess the first hour I saw thee.\"\n\n\"Rise up, my Prince,\" she said. \"We have a long journey before us.\"\n\n\"I hear the neighing of horses,\" he said, \"and the moving of feet.\"\n\n\"My attendants,\" she replied. \"My foster-mother rides with them. She gave\nme the blue glove, and told me he should be my husband who should see not\nhis own face in the mirror, but mine.\"\n\n\"I see thy face everywhere,\" cried Prince Merlin.\n\nSo he kissed her, and they rode away with all her train through the\nsighing night-wind and beneath the summer stars to the land of their joy.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INVISIBLE WALL\n\n\nOn the edge of the Dark Wood dwelt for a time a Wizard, whose life had\nbeen spent in the acquirement of many wonderful arts. As a young man he\nhad wandered over Europe from university to university, until one day he\nbecame aware of the true secret of education and burnt his books.\n\nThen he dwelt for many years in the mountains, gazing into the dark\nmirror of his heart, plumbing the blue ocean of the sky until the hour\nfor which he longed arrived, bringing Wisdom, who appeared to him as a\nyoung, fair being in the twilight.\n\nLeaving his hut he came forth to meet her. \"I had thought to greet you at\nnoonday,\" said he.\n\n\"That is because you live in an age which thinks that to know is to be\nwise; but only those see who shut their eyes. Not in the glare of noon,\nbut at twilight will you find me.\"\n\n\"You are a beautiful maid, Wisdom,\" said he who was on his way to\nbe a wizard. \"But why do you wear coarse linen who should be\nclothed in satins?\"\n\n\"To travel light,\" she replied.\n\n\"And why do you smile who should look sad?\"\n\n\"To be wise is to be happy.\"\n\n\"And what will you have me do?\"\n\n\"Remove from here to the village that is near the Dark Wood. Go through\nall the countryside proclaiming that King Theophile will shortly make war\nupon the inhabitants, but bid them feel no terror; only they are to build\nan invisible wall.\"\n\n\"By the books that I burned, that is a strange command!\" cried the\nWizard. \"Of what materials is this wonderful wall to be built?\"\n\n\"Of their sacrifices, their renouncements, their good deeds,\"\nreplied Wisdom.\n\n\"But they will call me mad,\" cried the Wizard.\n\nWisdom smiled. \"Did you expect to be really wise, and yet thought\nsane?\" she made answer. \"Have the courage of all great follies and you\nwill yet save The Kingdom of the Dark Wood, which is the fairland of\nthe Princess Myrtle.\"\n\nUpon which the Wizard took heart, for he knew that to be fearless is to\nbe in the class of masters, and to be fearful is to be in the class of\nslaves; and the whole world is divided into these two classes, nor is\nthere other aristocracy, or dependency.\n\n\"Sweet Wisdom, I will play the fool for your sake,\" he answered.\n\nThen she smiled and blessed him and vanished into the shadows of the\nforest. The Wizard was not of those who say, \"To-morrow I will do thus\nand thus\"; but being truly wise he put all his power into the present\nmoment. So he took his flask of water and his loaf of bread, for like\nWisdom, he would travel light, and he set forth for The Kingdom of the\nDark Wood.\n\nThere he rented a little cottage in the village near the wood, and set up\na shoemaker's bench, for he knew how to make shoes--and good ones, too.\nBeing a Wizard he knew that if he showed people he could do one thing\nwell, they would be the more ready to listen to his words. A fine,\ncomfortable shoe is a wonderful argument, so the Wizard set to work. The\ndewy dawns found him at his bench, and when the air at evening was full\nof heliotrope mists and homeward flying birds his little candle burned\nyellow to light his labors.\n\nSoon all the inhabitants had comfortable foot-wear, which put them all in\nfine humor. Then the Wizard began to proclaim a great war and the coming\nof King Theophile. He stood on the green, near the town-pump, and at\nfirst only the geese listened to him, stretching out their long necks and\nopening their red bills. But this did not discourage the Wizard, for he\nknew that after geese come men.\n\n[Illustration: THE WIZARD'S FIRST AUDIENCE]\n\n\"What's this! What's this!\" cried the tailor who was the first to get the\nmessage, \"A war? I must run right home and polish up my old gun.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the Wizard. \"But go home and kiss your wife--for you haven't\nkissed her in five years.\"\n\n\"If she would comb her hair and look attractive I might kiss her,\"\ngrowled the tailor.\n\n\"If you'd buy her a ribbon occasionally,\" advised the Wizard, \"she might\nhave the desire to make herself look pretty.\"\n\n\"What has all this to do with war?\" inquired the tailor.\n\n\"Your kiss will make a stone in the invisible wall which is to keep out\nthe enemy,\" the Wizard answered. \"And if you stop your everlasting work\nand take your poor wife on an outing, that will be another stone. Every\nsacrifice you make, every good deed you do, will be a guarding stone in\nthe wall.\"\n\nThe tailor rubbed his ear. \"Am I crazy, or are you?\"\n\n\"Am I asking you to do much for your country?\" demanded the Wizard.\n\"Think how mean you would feel if the invisible wall got built without\none stone of your donating.\"\n\n\"I'll go right home and kiss Matilda,\" said the tailor with a skip; and\noff he ran. In a few minutes he was back again. \"She blushed so and\nlooked so pretty and pleased that I kissed her three times, and to-morrow\nwe are going to see her mother. Put me down for four stones.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the Wizard.\n\nBy this time quite a crowd had collected, all anxious to hear about the\nwar. A rich miller took the news very seriously, because his mills lay to\nthe eastward, from which horizon King Theophile would appear. He sent to\nthe bank for bags of gold and laid them at the feet of the Wizard. \"These\nwill buy much gunpowder,\" he said.\n\n\"The wall will never be built of gold,\" replied the Wizard. \"There is\nno gold minted that will overcome an enemy, or keep him out if he wants\nto get in, or put mercy into his heart when vengeance is flaming there.\nThe real weapons are unseen. If you wish to help build the invisible\nwall, stop grinding the faces of the poor and charging famine prices\nfor your grain.\"\n\nThen the miller grew red in the face, and took up his bags of gold and\nwent away. But next day everyone bought wheat at a lower price than it\nhad been for many a long year, so that people knew the Wizard's words had\ntaken effect. This made him very popular, and when he again proclaimed\nthe danger of war and the necessity of building an invisible wall nearly\nall the village came forward to ask him what they could do to insure a\nstone in that guarding structure. Some of them whispered in his ear,\nbecause they hated to have their secret faults proclaimed to their\nneighbors.\n\nOld Peter was among those who made inquiry as to what sacrifice they\nshould offer to avert the threatening danger. \"I have,\" said he, \"a pet\nbird that pines in his cage. If I give him his liberty will that help\nbuild up the wall?\"\n\n\"Yes, Peter,\" said the Wizard. \"For no good man keeps anything captive\nthat has the desire for freedom.\"\n\nSome people paid their debts to help build the wall. Others began to go\nto church after staying away for years and years. Others made up\nlong-standing quarrels with their relatives and old-time friends, and\nthese stones of reconciliation were, the Wizard proclaimed, the strongest\nof all, since unity and love are the only impregnable fortresses.\n\nOf course, there was some doubt about the wall, since nobody could prove\nthat it really existed. But the Wizard declared he saw it to the eastward\ngrowing ever stronger and wider; and he traveled up and down the land\nprophesying war and the necessity of making the invisible wall strong and\nhigh by good works. He met with greatest success in the villages and\ntowns, but when he entered the region of the high castles, where the\nknights and ladies dwelt, he was much laughed at and some would have had\nhim locked up at once.\n\nNow, being a Wizard, he knew how powerful fashion is in this world, and\nhow a wandering breath may bring it into being, so he said to himself: \"I\nwill go direct to the court of the Princess Myrtle, who has married the\nPrince Merlin, and will gain her ear. When she knows the invisible wall\nis to protect her kingdom, she will be gracious and set the fashion of\nproviding stones.\"\n\nSo he journeyed all day and all night and came at last to the grim city\nof green stones with towers like aged fingers of gnarled wood in the\nmidst of which the Princess Myrtle held her court in an old red castle\nset about with small, stiff trees. Now the Princess had not long been\nmarried to the Prince Merlin. So full of love were they for each other\nthat for them many days had drifted away like the dreams of a night; and\nso sweet was their converse, and so softly the minstrels sang that all\nthe court lived in a kind of trance.\n\nThe day the Wizard reached the castle it was drowsy noon; and the\ngolden-woven curtains were softly swaying in the breeze; while upon the\ndim walls the greenish tapestries looked like mysterious forests. The\nPrince and Princess sat upon their thrones like painted figures, and all\naround them sat their courtiers in their golden dreams while the\nminstrels sang:\n\n\"The waves are beating on the yellow sands,\n  The moon in a black vault rides white and high.\nLet us go forth, from these most desolate lands,\n  Led by the spirit's cry.\"\n\n\"You are quite right,\" said the Wizard. \"Your lands will be desolate\nunless you help build the invisible wall.\"\n\nAt that all the courtiers whose eyelids had been drooping with the summer\nheat and with dreams of romance, looked up, and the Princess Myrtle\nwithdrew her gaze from Prince Merlin, and fastened her sweet eyes upon\nthe Wizard. \"You must not care what the minstrels sing,\" she said. \"We\nare all so happy here, that we love songs of sorrow.\"\n\n\"Sweet Princess,\" said the Wizard, \"King Theophile intends to make war\nupon you, and I have come to tell you that already your subjects have\nbuilt a fine invisible wall of good deeds and sacrifices; but they must\nnot perform all the labor and have all the pain while the nobles jest and\nfeast. For the wall must have a stone in it from every kind of man, rich\nor poor, high or low, else it will not endure. And you, the Princess,\nmust put in the strongest stone of all, since the ruler of a country must\nbe its protector.\"\n\nAll the courtiers smiled at this, but the Princess did not smile, because\nshe was as wise as she was fair. She looked down at her peach-colored\nrobe of satin and her little slippers embroidered with seed-pearls, and\nshe drew a long-stemmed rose from the jade bowl near her throne to pass\nback and forth across her lips, as was her manner when thinking.\n\n\"Prince Merlin,\" she said at last, \"if this strange tale be true, what\nstone wilt thou place in the invisible wall?\"\n\n\"I will go for a month to the Council Chamber instead of lingering near\nthee while the minstrels sing,\" replied her husband.\n\n\"Spoken like a prince!\" cried the Wizard. \"And what wilt thou do,\nPrincess?\"\n\n\"I will go to the Council Chamber with milord,\" she answered. \"And\nread most heavy papers of State; for if he shares my play I must share\nhis work.\"\n\n\"To attend to the duties of sovereignty instead of listening to minstrels\nin a scented room is a fitting stone for the Princess to place in the\ninvisible wall,\" commented the Wizard; then he looked around at the\ncourtiers.\n\nNow after the manner of courtiers they wanted to imitate their Prince and\nPrincess, but they thought this invisible wall a great joke not worth\nmaking sacrifices for. The Wizard read their thoughts and said to them:\n\"If the ruler works alone, he is like a bird with a crippled wing. He can\nonly rule wisely and well if all the wisest and best help him. You are\nplaced high that you may serve. Give me each his vow of sacrifice that\nthe wall may be strong!\"\n\nThe knights and nobles looked at each other, then at the Princess Myrtle;\nand she bowed her head and thus addressed them:\n\n\"If our weapons against an enemy must be our unity, our mutual love and\nservice, instead of roaring guns and flaming cannon, surely it is easy to\nprovide them. Nevertheless,\" she added, turning to the military\ncommander, \"see that the army is made ready.\"\n\nThe Wizard smiled. \"Well and good, if you remember, dear Princess, that\nan army can never be greater or stronger than the nation back of it. For\nevery gun manufactured there must be a noble desire forged, or a high\nideal realized; or else the weapons will be but a mask of courage on a\nweak face.\"\n\nThe military commander shrugged his shoulders. \"I'll go and see if the\ngunpowder is dry,\" he commented, \"as my contribution to yon stranger's\ninvisible wall.\"\n\nThen one by one the nobles at the command of the Princess Myrtle came\nforward to register each his vow of sacrifice. One said that he would\nwrite no more poetry for a year; another that he would eat no truffles\nfor a fortnight; a third proclaimed that he would sell his jeweled sword\nto buy bread for the poor.\n\nThe Wizard listened and shook his head. \"This layer of stones is going to\nbe very weak,\" he said. \"Why don't you all stop and think, while the\nladies make their vows?\"\n\nThe maids-of-honor crowded forward like a nose-gay of sweet-scented\nflowers, eager to do better than the knights in the construction of this\ninvisible wall; for being women they were quicker than their brothers and\nhusbands to understand what the Wizard meant. Yet they, too, were not\nquite clear in their minds, for one said she would wear linen instead of\nsatin; another that she would give up perfumes for six months; another\nthat she would read no novels for that time.\n\nThe Wizard began to look discouraged. At last a beautiful young girl\ncame forward to register her vow. \"I don't care enough about jewels and\nscents and satins to give them up, Sir Stranger,\" she said; \"but I\nshould like to win the love of the poor; so I will visit them, and be as\none of them.\"\n\nAt this the Wizard clapped his hands. \"This stone is most strong,\" he\nsaid. \"Now, Sir Knights, return and make new vows.\"\n\nThen the knights came forward. \"I will be reconciled with my brother,\"\nsaid one. \"I will build a new cottage for an aged tenant,\" proclaimed\nanother; while a third, who was in love with the beautiful girl who\nwanted the love of the poor, said, \"I will make a great supper for the\nhungry and will feast with them.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" cried the Wizard, \"that will be, indeed, a great feast! The bread\nof charity chokes the receiver because the hand that gives it will not\nbreak it with him. We must have communion, not patronage; or the\ninvisible wall will never be built.\"\n\nThe Princess Myrtle listened as one who hears a new gospel; and she\nremembered that she had never broken bread with the poor, but only\nbestowed benefits upon them, which is no way to become acquainted. And\nshe sighed--a little sigh of love and regret and hope of doing better,\nwhich the Wizard said afterwards became one of the strongest stones in\nthe invisible wall.\n\nSuch a change in the kingdom! People making up quarrels that had withered\nhearts for generations. Court ladies running with warm loaves to the\ncottages and staying to eat some of the bread. Knights helping old men\nwith the harvest; minstrels sent to sing to the bedridden instead of to\nan assemblage of bored ladies and gentlemen in a tapestried gallery. Much\nless talk of love and many more loving deeds. People wild to serve each\nother instead of themselves. All the land silent and helpful, instead of\nchattering and selfish! Such a change in the kingdom!\n\nThe Wizard was everywhere, for the wall was beginning to be a real\ndefense, and he spared no pains to see that every stone was strong.\n\nNow the fame of this wall reached King Theophile--for this was in the\ndays of his warring--and he laughed on his throne and said, \"Oh, little\nNation, I will make mincemeat of thee, for I have every kind of weapon\nthat is made, and many officials who do nothing all day but spy on other\npeople and brandish their swords. What have you to oppose to such\nstrength? Little kingdom, you will be but a road to my glory.\"\n\nSo he made great preparations for war, and gathered together all the\nweapons that shed blood. There were many of these and he prided himself\nupon them, but in all his arsenal was not one instrument that could put\nshed blood back again into the veins of a man, which shows that\nironworkers do not know everything.\n\nOne fine day the King and all his armies came across the rocking waves\nand drove their boats upon the shores of The Kingdom of the Dark Wood\nwhich lay fair before them like a green and purple map edged with white\nwhere the breakers drove high. The land wind brought to their senses the\nodors of grapes, and the scent of apples and ripe grain. And the soldiers\nsaid to each other, \"We will kill, then we will feast.\"\n\nThey were impatient to overrun the land. Now the air-spies reported that\nbut a small army had massed to meet the intruders, and that back of their\nranks the inhabitants were peacefully at work gathering in the harvest.\nThis seemed incredible. Then King Theophile gave his command to the army,\n\"March forward\"; and to the air-spies, \"Fly on and drop burning brands on\nthe fields.\"\n\nThe army immediately set out. Far away the air-spies were seen beating\nthe air like black rooks, but strangely enough they always remained in\nsight and seemed to get no further. At last they went high up into the\nclouds and disappeared.\n\nBut the soldiers pressed on joyfully, for the sweet odors of vineyard and\ngarden grew ever more ravishing; and now the land lay at their feet in a\nshimmering haze, through which the forests rose like deep cool islands\nwith here and there a red roof, or a white church spire to tell of human\nhabitation. And up through the haze like released spirits in paradise\ncame with soft, steady motion, phalanxes of soldiers smiling.\n\n\"By my sword that never sleeps,\" cried King Theophile, \"their faces shall\nbe gray ere nightfall, and they shall smile no more.\"\n\nThen all his soldiers made their swords sing and flash like waving grain\nof death; and they chanted together a song without joy. Suddenly the\nblack dam of their war fury broke and, with the wild roar of an untamed\ncataract, they swept forward towards these still and smiling knights,\nwith King Theophile on a high dark horse at their head.\n\nIn his rage of conquest he dug his golden spurs into his horse's side,\nand the beast with quivering nostrils, leaped through space, then\nsuddenly paused, quivering; nor could cry, or whip, or spur move him.\nThen King Theophile leaped down and rushed forward to see what was\nfrightening the animal; and all at once he crashed against something\nhard, and his broken right arm fell to his side. He grew gray, not with\npain but with sheer terror, for he could see nothing, yet his arm had\nbeen broken upon a substance that felt like granite.\n\nAs he gazed wildly about him, he saw the first phalanx of his army pitch\nback with bleeding foreheads; and their eyes rolled in amazement, for\nthey could see nothing, yet they had driven themselves against stones.\n\n\"On! On!\" cried King Theophile, for he trusted again to his senses which\nrevealed only a peaceful landscape and in the distance, haloed with the\nmists, a calm army waiting and smiling. That smile of the foe was like\npoison in the King's veins, and again he rushed forward, this time to\nbruise and cut his head, so that the blood poured over his white mantle.\n\nThen he grew faint with fear as he beheld his soldiers clawing the\nempty airs and turning horror-stricken countenances to him. \"Sire,\"\nthey whispered, \"something is holding us back. Something is here that\nwe do not see!\"\n\nAt that moment the air-spies dropped to the ground like tired birds. \"The\nwind holds us back,\" cried one. \"No!\" exclaimed another, \"we broke our\nmachines against a wall miles in the air! This is a bewitched country.\"\n\n\"We will wait and try again,\" said King Theophile.\n\nSo they encamped on the spot, and far off in the haze they saw the other\narmy pitch its tents, and they heard the soldiers singing. All night\ntheir banners waved in the wind and the faint music continued.\n\nAt dawn King Theophile's army was astir, and those air-spies whose\nvehicles were still unbroken, began their flight violently--and were as\nviolently pitched back. The phalanxes were ordered to advance, but some\nfell dead with horror as they drove their limbs against an unseen\nbarrier. For the limpid air revealed only the placid fields; and in the\ndistance among the golden shadows, men smiling like the still saints in\nparadisal meadows. \"These be happy warriors,\" sighed the King, and for\nonce in his life he longed to call the foe \"brother\" and ask how the\nharvest went; and to pillow his head on the same knapsack with a soldier,\nand so sleep sweet and brotherly.\n\nBut the wall which shut out his hate, now shut out also his love, so that\nhe could not walk across the fields and embrace those smiling warriors\nwaiting in the sunshine for a battle that was never to take place.\n\nSo sadly one day he turned his army back to the sea-strand, and the\nrocking boats, and away from the vision of calm eyes gazing at him\nthrough golden shadows, where the land lay fair and open.\n\nNow when the last of the fleet had disappeared below the horizon the\npeople of the Dark Wood kingdom went mad with joy; and the Wizard was\nescorted to the palace by all the army. The Princess Myrtle and Prince\nMerlin met him at the entrance to the throne-room, and pages scattered\nflowers beneath his feet.\n\n\"O Wise Man,\" cried the Princess, \"how shall we reward thee for\nthy wisdom?\"\n\n\"Only children crave rewards,\" replied the Wizard. \"It will be pleasure\nenough for me to return to my little hut and to hear the woodpeckers in\nthe eaves; and to see the white owls fly when the stars glow above the\ndark forest branches.\"\n\nNow the Military Commander was the only person in the kingdom who was\nnot sharing the general joy. He was grumpy because he had lost all the\nhonor of winning a bloody battle. Even the sight of all his army alive\nand well could not soothe the wound to his vanity; so when the Princess\nand the Wizard were exchanging the last courtesies, he strode forward,\nbowed, and said:\n\n\"Your Highness, this invisible wall is all very well, but how will our\npeople reach the seacoast through this perpetual barrier? Can this mighty\nWizard destroy what he has erected?\"\n\nThen all the court looked at the Wizard, who asked to be led at once to\nthe great concourse where the people were assembled. \"This is a question\nto be settled by the nation and not by the court,\" he averred.\n\nSo the knights and ladies moved like living flowers to the concourse\nwhere the people were assembled--the pure grain of the kingdom. And the\nWizard called in a loud voice to them, \"Men and women, is it your will\nthat your good deeds be destroyed or remain in everlasting remembrance?\nFor this wall will never keep any true soul from the sea, nor any honest\nman; but he that is a rogue will beat in vain against it!\"\n\nThen the people shouted, \"We will keep this wall which we have built with\nour good deeds.\"\n\nSo the wall stood forever, but the Wizard journeyed home, and knew the\njoy of the tired traveler who sees his own little nook again. That night\nhe ate his bread and drank his draught of water on his own doorstone; and\nwatched the white owls fly, hoping that Wisdom would let him be quiet\nawhile in the arms of the forest before she sent him out again to teach\nthe restless hearts of men.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TREE IN THE DARK WOOD\n\n\nIn the kingdom of the Princess Myrtle were many forests cut through with\nroaring streams which dashed and danced their way over immense shining\nblack bowlders that looked like ebony bears lying in the current. So high\nwere the trees of these woods that they shut out the sun, and he who\nwalked through them felt himself among the columns of a gigantic temple.\n\nIn the darkest wood of all people sometimes lost their way on bitter\nnights when the white stars hung just above the tree-tops and the\nfrost-fairies filled the air with the little snaps and crackles of their\norchestra--the queer, marred music of winter. The reddening of dawn found\nthese poor adventurers frozen unless they had the good fortune to find\nwhat all the countryside knew as \"The Tree in the Dark Wood.\"\n\nThe whispers of generations had established the fact of the existence\nof this tree since the hour when the woodcutter, Peter Garland, had\nwandered too far into the forest, and had been benighted on the feast\nof St. Stephen when the air sometimes sings with snow. He had become\nhalf paralyzed with the cold, his poor lantern had gone out, and he was\nabout to say his last prayers thinking he would never live until\nmorning, when suddenly, in the midst of the whirling snow, he saw\nextended the limbs of a most beautiful tree. It was not so tall as the\nothers, and shining fruit of a delicious appearance hung upon its\nbranches amidst its thick foliage.\n\nBest of all, poor, half-frozen Peter felt a wonderful warmth glowing from\nits trunk, and with the warmth came a soft crimson light; so he stole up\nto it as if he were a little boy and this tree were his beautiful Mother;\nand he cuddled down in the arms of its great roots and went to sleep.\n\nWhen he woke up it was morning; and the sun was turning the surface of\nthe snow into sheets of iridescent light. He yawned and stretched out his\narms, then remembering his wonderful rescue of the evening before, he\ngazed upward, but saw only a tall pine tree with shining brownish cones\npendant from its branches. Where was the beautiful green summer-tree hung\nwith crimson fruit? Where was the light like the sun's rays through\npainted glass?\n\n\"But here am I alive and warm,\" thought Peter. \"And the night was bitter.\nThis tree must change its shape at the footfall of evening; and I will\nmark it, lest it should be lost to us.\"\n\nSo taking out his knife he cut three crosses in the bark of the tree;\nthen setting his face to the sun, for his cottage lay to the east of the\nDark Wood, he hacked the trees all along the way; and at last emerged in\nthe path which led to his dwelling. His wife and all the neighbors, who\nhad given him up for dead, came running to meet him with cries of joy;\nbut when he told them what had happened they tapped their foreheads and\nglanced at each other. \"Poor man,\" they said, \"the frost-king hath stolen\nhis wits.\"\n\n\"But I marked the tree with three crosses,\" he cried, \"and I can lead you\nstraight to it.\"\n\nThey laughed, but to humor him they said he might take them to his\nwonderful tree after dinner, when hot soup had given them all courage; so\nthat afternoon there was a long procession of people trudging through the\nDark Wood with Peter at their head. By the time he arrived at the tree he\nwas trembling like a leaf with excitement. There, sure enough, stood a\ntall pine-tree marked with the three crosses, but it was otherwise in no\nway different from its fellows. \"Yes, but wait for evening; then you will\nsee it change,\" said Peter.\n\nThey laughed a little and grumbled a little; but most of them had filled\ntheir lanterns and brought bread and cheese against a hungry time, and\nafter all, it was not so cold in the forest, for the North Wind with his\nblue ballooned cheeks could not blow hard down those long avenues. Peter\nwas full of excitement, for he was sure that the tree would become\nmagical as soon as the sun set.\n\nWhen the last splashes of crimson had faded from the topmost boughs he\nbegan anxiously to watch the tree about which all the villagers had\nseated themselves in a circle after first scraping the snow from the dead\nleaves. Darker and darker grew the air, and brighter the stars, while far\noff in the forest the great cats began to talk to each other, and the\nowls hooted and flew. Suddenly Peter gave a cry of joy. \"See! See! the\nwonderful fruit, the glowing leaves!\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" said his wife. \"O, poor loon, he will never be right again!\"\nand she began to weep into her apron.\n\n\"It is true! It is true!\" cried another voice, that of hard-worked Bennie\nBrown, who supported an old father and mother and a crippled sister by\nhis labors.\n\n\"Yes, it is the most beautiful tree,\" said a young girl, who had once\nsold her golden hair to buy bread for a mother with a new-born child. \"O\nthe wonderful fruit! the sweet warmth.\"\n\nThe others stared and rubbed their eyes; and looked angry. \"You lie,\nBennie!\" one cried; \"You are a silly girl, Elsa,\" shrieked another.\n\n\"They speak truth. See you not the crimson light?\" spoke grave Henry\nBaird, who had rescued many from drowning in the mountain streams.\n\nThose who did not see grew more and more furious. \"Crazy people,\" they\ncried. \"Loons! silly babblers! will you teach us?\" Then some began to\nbeat Peter; others to belabor young Elsa, at which Bennie ran to her\nrescue, and being as brave as he was good, laid about him with his fists,\nand cried \"Shame on you, to hurt a woman, because your own eyes are\nblind.\" Soon everyone was fighting, but those who saw the tree felt a\ngreat strength in all their limbs, and warmth and joy; so that they soon\nescaped from the brawling disappointed ones and ran lightly homeward with\nsinging hearts.\n\nBut the dispute thus started went on through many months until half the\nvillage refused to speak to the other half. Finally a good old hermit\ntraveled over the ridges of the mountains and forded many streams to\nreach a place which had become famous by its quarrel. He arrived in\nharvest time. Those who knew that the tree glowed with life were in the\nfields quietly at work, for what had they to trouble them who had found\nthe truth? but the others who could not see were leaning over each\nother's fences with their neglected gardens at their impatient heels; and\narguing and arguing the matter.\n\nThe hermit being a wise man asked no direct questions concerning the\ntree, but went himself that evening into the forest and there beheld\nthe miracle.\n\nNext day he made friends with the villagers; and because warm words open\nthe heart, soon the good hermit had the life histories of all the\ninhabitants, as well as the names of those who had seen the tree and\nthose whose sight was blinded.\n\nAfter which he retired into the wood to think upon what he had learned;\nand to sort out his people like little colored beads. What he discovered\nwas this: that all those who had made sacrifices for their fellows, like\nBennie Brown and young Elsa, were able to see the tree, but the selfish\nand the hard-hearted and the indifferent could not behold it.\n\nWhen he was quite sure of this he went calmly back to the village and\ncalling together all the inhabitants he told them exactly why some saw\nthe tree and why it was hidden from the sight of others. These latter\nonly laughed at his words, though some of them were cut to the heart, but\nthey were too proud to reveal the wound.\n\nThe hermit's explanation, however, was accepted by many; and rumor\ncarried it far beyond the borders of the village, so that after a while\nthe nobility heard of it, and the burghers in the walled towns where\nbeautiful tapestries were always drowsing into wonderful life on looms\nthat could weave dreams. The result was that it grew quite fashionable to\njourney to the tree to make a test of one's character, as people go to\nphysicians to have their blood examined. In the bright summer evenings\nlong processions could be seen winding like a varicolored serpent among\nthe gray trees. Swords flashed, banners flew, troubadours sang snatches\nof little lilting airs like the rise and dip of birds' wings, and\nbeautiful ladies jingled the golden bridles of their steeds.\n\nFew of these ladies brought their betrothed with them, lest they should\nbe made ashamed by not being able to see the tree; and should thereby be\ndiscovered as possessing hard hearts beneath their sweet manners. It was\nrumored, indeed, that people known to be selfish and cruel had\nproclaimed, nevertheless, that they beheld a glorious tree, so that liars\nwere made, and hypocrites. Others said this was but the jealousy of\ndisappointed ones whose own lives had blurred their eyesight.\n\nNow in the realm dwelt a splendid young knight whose name was Sir\nGodfrey, and who took pleasure in all manner of chivalrous deeds towards\nthe ladies of his own rank. He was tall and strong-limbed, with clear\nblue eyes, and a fresh skin, and when he wore his golden armor he looked\nlike the pictures of St. George. His home was a low-set castle of aged\nstones held together by a vast ivy vine, and around the castle was a moat\nso deep that it gave back a midnight darkness to the noon sky.\n\nNow Sir Godfrey was in love with the Lady Beatrice whose lands adjoined\nhis. She was pale and slender as any lily, with black heavy hair that had\nno light in it, but in her heart was much light; and because her soul\nmirrored more than her eyes, she did not love easily, which reluctance of\nhers was a grief to Sir Godfrey, who pressed his suit in vain.\n\nOne day when the roses were full-blown and all the little lambs were\nskipping in the broad green fields, Sir Godfrey rode on his great white\nhorse towards the castle of the Lady Beatrice which was high up on a\nhill, and faced the dawn. And he proudly rode because he saw that she was\nwatching him from the rose-terraces. But after a while he beheld her no\nmore, and he thought, \"She knows I know she was watching.\" Pride put a\nsmile on his lips, because she had never watched for him before.\n\nHe spurred his horse to reach her the quicker while she was in this mood.\nNow just before he gained the gate of the castle a goose-girl with her\ngeese blocked the road, and he cried impatiently, \"Out of the way! out of\nthe way!\" and scarcely reined in his horse, so that there was danger of\nthe girl's being hurt. She was quick on her feet, however, and sprang\naside, but one poor bird was trampled under the steed's hoofs, at which\nthe girl gave a sob and called out, \"You are wicked, wicked!\" Then he put\nhis hand in his purse and drew out some gold pieces and flung them\ntowards her; but she did not see them, for her face was buried in the\ndown of the bird, which was a pet.\n\nWhen he reached the gate, there in the shadow of the arch stood the Lady\nBeatrice. Her face was as white as a gardenia flower, and she did not\nsmile when she greeted him. He wondered what he had done to offend her,\nand after a page had led away his horse he employed all his graceful arts\nto win the smile he craved as a thirsty man longs for water. Sometimes\nshe glanced at him from beneath her lashes as if seeking to read his\nsoul; and once he saw her lips tremble, but the smile did not come.\n\nThey were pacing up and down between the nodding roses that seemed to be\nsaying to Sir Godfrey, \"Kiss her! kiss her!\" until no longer could he\nbear it, and he sank on one knee before her and poured out his heart.\n\nShe listened like a maiden turned to snow. Then when he was silent she\nspoke thus to him: \"Will you go with me and my ladies to the Tree in the\nDark Wood this very night? If you can behold the Tree filled with fruit\nand rosy flame I will marry you, if not I cannot be your bride. But you\nmust promise me upon the cross-hilt of your sword that you will speak\ntruthfully. You must not deceive me to gain my hand.\"\n\nThen Sir Godfrey gave his word joyfully, for he was sure that he would\nbehold the magical Tree. He thought of all his noble deeds and the\nbeautiful ladies for whose sake he had tilted in tourney; and of all his\nprowess as a knight in king's courts.\n\nSo when the sun was low, he with Lady Beatrice and her train of ladies\nrode forth from the gates towards the Dark Wood which lay like a cloud\nin the distance; and Sir Godfrey was full of song and jest, for he\nnever doubted that soon he would be the betrothed of his beautiful\nlady; but she was silent and looked often towards the west where the\nrosy clouds slept.\n\nWhen the procession entered the wood it was as if the gray spaces had\nturned all at once into a garden. Flashes of jewels and silks threw magic\ncolors on the twilight, and the troubadours in the train sang so sweetly\nthat all the birds were mute. As night came on the, pretty little\nlanterns were lit and swung at the horses' bridles.\n\nThe Tree was nearly reached when Lady Beatrice halted her procession and\nbade it await her and Sir Godfrey, for she loved him too well to have him\nmortified before other people; and she feared that he would not behold\nthe glowing fruit-bearing Tree. But never a doubt crossed his mind, for\nhe remembered all his noble deeds that he had performed beneath the eyes\nof gallant knights and fair ladies.\n\nSo they rode on to the Tree, and he unhooked the lantern from his saddle\nand held it high.\n\n\"Why do you do that?\" asked the Lady Beatrice.\n\n\"To find the three crosses,\" he said.\n\n\"But the Tree is glowing like a jewel,\" she cried.\n\nThen he grew gray as the ashes of a long-spent fire, for he knew that he\nhad failed; and his pride suffered a mortal wound, since it was greater\nthan his love. \"You are deceived, Lady Beatrice, like all the rest,\" he\nsaid. \"There is no magic Tree.\"\n\nFor answer she turned her horse and rode sadly away. Her heart was too\nheavy for speech. As he saw her going the sense of loss cut like a\nknife into his spirit, and his pain was keen, for he still loved for\nhis sake and not for hers. She, seeing that he suffered, longed to\ncomfort him, but she was not one of those who live for the moment, and\nshe held her peace.\n\nWhen they reached the waiting procession everyone looked at Sir Godfrey,\nand his pride was, by the challenge of their eyes, again aroused, for he\ncould do nothing, nor feel nothing unless he was before a mirror. So he\nbegan to be very gay; and though he would have scorned to speak a lie, he\nacted one that everyone might believe he had seen the magic Tree. But the\nLady Beatrice remained silent and sad. When they reached her gates he\nasked her permission to enter; then she said: \"Some day, not now.\"\n\nHe rode away without a jest, for she had never before refused him any\ncourtesy, and his heart was heavy within him. That night he could not\nsleep, but tossed upon his bed, sometimes grieving because he had not\nseen the magic Tree and so had been made of no worth in the Lady\nBeatrice's eyes; sometimes in anguish because she had not allowed him to\nenter her gates.\n\nBut in all this he loved himself, so the pain was but transitory, and\nnext day he put on his finest doublet of leaf-green satin lined with\nprimrose silk and edged with pale corals, and rode to her gates. There\nthe porter brought back word that the Lady Beatrice could not see him.\n\nSir Godfrey was angry then, and he sought to make her jealous. Next day\nwhen at the jousts, he sat at the feet of her cousin, Lady Alladine, nor\ndid he look towards the Lady Beatrice.\n\nBut all that only heaped fire on his own heart, and he rode home to his\ncastle with his brow dark. The singing birds seemed to mock him, and he\nthought he heard the shrill laughter of the goblin-men, who live in the\ndeep dells. That night he could not sleep; but murmured again and again\nthat she was his own love, and not the Lady Alladine.\n\nSo full of meekness he rode next day to the castle of his heart's life,\nbut the porter brought back to him the same message, and Sir Godfrey\ndeparted full of anguish. His pain, like a scourge, drove him on and on\nuntil he was far off in the desert amid the tangled and tripping briers\nand the keen-edged stones. The rain beat upon his head and upon his\nsilken clothes, but he was unmindful of it, because he had begun to\ngrieve not for himself, but for his sweet lost love.\n\nThe days went by and he grew thin and worn with his grieving; and because\nhe learned how salt is the taste of tears he began to pity everything\nthat suffered. He was well-nigh worn out with his memories, for now he\nnever thought of his noble deeds, but of the times when he had given pain\nto others. Often he remembered the poor goose-girl and her birds. At\nfirst he would say, \"I gave her gold\"; then a voice in his heart\nanswered, \"Gold cannot pay for life.\"\n\nSo one day he went to the market-place and bought a fine gray goose with\na bill as red as a cardinal's robe; and he tucked the bird under his arm,\nthough the people jeered to see a noble knight carrying a goose. But Sir\nGodfrey cared not. He went straight to the village green where the\ngoose-girl was leading her birds around, and bowed low before her as if\nshe were a great lady.\n\n\"I am sorry that I killed one of your flock,\" he said. \"Will you take\nthis fellow for forgiveness's sake?\"\n\nThen the tears came into her eyes, and she took into her arms from his\nthe gray goose whose bill was red as a cardinal's robe; and stroked\nhis feathers.\n\n\"Why do you cry?\" asked Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"I am glad you are a true knight,\" she answered.\n\nThen Sir Godfrey wished with all his heart that he might bring tears to\nthe eyes of the Lady Beatrice, for he felt that never more would she\nbelieve him a true knight.\n\nThe world was full of flying leaves, for it was autumn; then the winds\ndied and the snows came. Bitter winter chained the mountain streams and\nlaid the forests asleep. The stars shone blue, and on the windowpanes\nwere fairy pictures.\n\nNow the time drew near the birth of Christ, and one day Sir Godfrey\nwas overjoyed to receive a message from the Lady Beatrice, bidding him\nto a feast on Christmas Eve. It seemed to him that he could not wait\nfor the hour to come, and all that day he thought upon the joy of\nbeholding her again.\n\nTowards nightfall the wind rose and the snow began to fly, but to Sir\nGodfrey it was as if the air were full of dainty flowers. Nor did he\nregard the cold nor the whistling tempest, but rode in deep joy and\nhumility to the castlegate of the Lady Beatrice.\n\nWhen he had nearly reached it he heard a feeble voice crying: \"Stop, Sir\nKnight; for the love of heaven, stop!\" and looking down he saw a bent old\nwoman holding her hands out to him in supplication.\n\nEvery moment's delay was as the point of a sharp sword against his heart,\nbut he had himself suffered too much to turn from the voice of pain; and\nleaning from his saddle he said, \"What can I do for you, Mother?\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" she replied, \"my home lies on the farther side of the Dark\nWood, and the neighbor who was to convey me thither has no doubt\nforgotten his promise. I have a sick son there for whose sake I made this\njourney. Wilt thou, for the love of heaven, take me up behind thee and\nconvey me through the Dark Wood to my dwelling? I cannot walk through\nthis tempest, and my son may die.\"\n\nThen Sir Godfrey was as a man turned into marble by enchantment, and his\nheart was sore with struggle. Before him were the lights of the castle\nwhich held his love. If he carried this woman to her home, he could not\nsee his Lady Beatrice, who, perhaps, would never forgive him for not\nappearing at her summons.\n\nThe thought was as death to him, and he looked broodingly down at the\npoor woman. \"I am bidden to a feast, Mother,\" he said, \"the porter of\nthis castle will give you shelter for the night, and in the morning I\nwill convey you through the Dark Wood to your home.\"\n\n\"The morning may be too late, Sir Knight,\" she said sadly.\n\nThen without a word Sir Godfrey turned his horse, and though his heart\nwas like lead, he bent a cheerful countenance to the stranger, and\nassisted her to the place behind the saddle, and off they rode together\nthrough the night and storm.\n\nSir Godfrey spoke but little, since his thoughts were with the Lady\nBeatrice and the empty chair at the feast which should have been his. He\nsaw her face imprinted on the night's dark veil and heard her voice\ncalling him on the whistling wind. The old woman behind him muttered of\nthe storm while on and on they rode.\n\nAt last they entered the Dark Wood, and here they made slower progress,\nfor the light of Sir Godfrey's little lantern was feeble and the trees\ncast confusing shadows. By and by the old woman began to moan that she\nwas cold, that she felt herself dying of the cold. \"O would that we could\nreach the Tree which sheds warmth and bears fruit even in this bitter\nweather,\" she cried. \"O Knight, hasten forward to the Tree.\"\n\nBut Sir Godfrey made no answer, for he was now sure that he should never\nbe holy enough to behold the Tree; and he, too, felt the sorrow and cold\nof death creep upon him, and a dreadful fear that never again should he\nleave the Dark Wood alive, but would perish there miserably. He could no\nlonger see the path, and the arms of the old woman clinging to him were\nlike the touch of ice. \"O Mother!\" he cried, \"Pray for our deliverance,\nfor I have lost the road.\"\n\nAt that moment his lantern went out, and he gave a cry of despair, for he\nhad nothing wherewith to relight it.\n\n\"Fear not,\" cried the old woman, \"but press on.\"\n\nSo through the dark he urged his horse, seeing nothing and feeling more\ndead than alive; for he now knew that both he and his passenger must\nperish of the cold.\n\nBut even as he was resigning his heart to the will of heaven, he saw afar\noff a beautiful, clear, rosy light shedding long rays over the snow, and\nwhere the light lay the snowflakes fell no more, but a delicate breeze,\nsoft and caressing, issued like a breath of spring from that circle. The\nold woman cried, \"The Tree! the Tree!\"\n\nSir Godfrey's heart leaped with joy. He could not believe that he was\nat last worthy to behold the Tree, yet there it rose, oh, so glorious!\nits trunk glowing with a sweet, warm fire, its branches covered with\nlights and heavy with delicious fruit. He laughed with joy, while the\nold woman softly wept. Even the horse saw the fine sight, for he\nwhinnied his pleasure.\n\nThen the knight dismounted and turned to lift the old woman down, when\nsuddenly she threw back her hood, and straightened herself; and there,\nsmiling into his eyes, was his own love, the Lady Beatrice. \"O my true\nKnight,\" she cried. \"For the sake of a stranger thou didst brave death.\nNow with thy love shalt thou live.\"\n\nThen Sir Godfrey cried out with joy and took her in his arms and kissed\nher many times, while from behind the Tree came running all the\ntrue-hearted nobles and peasants who had been able to see its wonders,\nand they all circled Sir Godfrey and the Lady Beatrice while they\nplighted their troth. Then all ate the fruit, and made merry in the rosy\nwarmth until the Christmas morning dawned, when they went back in the\nsunshine to celebrate the marriage of Sir Godfrey and the Lady Beatrice,\nwho lived happily ever afterwards; for how otherwise could it be with\nlovers that had together beheld the Tree in the Dark Wood?\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAT THAT WINKED\n\n\nOnce there was an old woman who lived on the edge of the Dark Wood in a\nsmall cottage all covered with thick thatch and over the thatch grew a\nhoneysuckle vine; but at the gable where the chimneys clustered, the\nwisteria flung purple flowers in May.\n\nOn the topmost chimney was a stork's nest, and there dear grandfather\nstork stood on one leg, unless he was wanted to carry a little baby to\nsome house in the village; when he flapped his wings and flew away over\nthe tree-tops to the Land of Little Souls.\n\nNow the old woman loved her home, because she had lived there many years\nwith her husband. She loved the two worn chairs on each side of the great\nhearth, and her pewter dishes, and her big china water-pitcher with\nflowers shining on it--not for themselves, but for the reason that once\nsomeone had used them and admired them with her.\n\nInto the little latticed windows the roses peeped, and these Mother\nHuldah loved too, and tended carefully all through the sweet-smelling\nsummer-time. But perhaps she liked best the long winter evenings when she\nspun by the fire and sang little songs like these:\n\n\"My heart as a bird has flown away,\n  (Princess, where? Princess, where?)\nInto the land that is always gay,\n  Out of the land of care.\n\n\"But no bird flies alone to bliss,\n  (Princess, why? Princess, why?)\nI have no answer but a kiss,\n  And then the open sky.\"\n\nNobody listened but Tommie, who was an immense black cat, held in great\nreverence by the villagers, for he had the greenest eyes and the longest\nwhiskers and the heaviest fur of any cat in the kingdom. Moreover, he had\nhundreds of mice to his credit and no birds, for he was a good and wise\ngrimalkin. Sometimes he talked with his tail and sometimes he opened his\npink mouth and said just as plain as words that he had been stalking\nthrough the moonlight and had seen old Egbert go limping home as if he\nhad the rheumatism.\n\nSo next day Mother Huldah with her little bag of medicines and ointments\nwould go to old Egbert's hut, and sure enough, find him bedridden; or\nTommie would tell her that Charlemagne the stork had carried a baby to a\npoor mother who had no clothes for it. Then Mother Huldah would go to her\ngreat cedar chest and take out linen that smelled all sweetly of\nlavender, and carry it with some good food to the poor woman.\n\nMother Huldah was so kind and generous that everybody got in the habit of\ntaking things from her without sometimes so much as a \"thank you,\" or an\ninquiry as to her own health. But the little children loved her because\nshe made them pretty cakes; and told them the stories she used to tell\nher own children, her two fine sons who were soldiers. These sons sent\nher the money upon which she lived and out of which she made her little\ncharities, and they wrote her fine brave letters, and every year they\ncame home to see her, bearing beautiful presents from foreign lands,\nivory toys and shining silks (which she always gave to some bride) and\nworkboxes of sweet-scented wood richly carved--to show how much they\nloved her.\n\nOne dreadful year a great war broke out, and not long after Mother Huldah\nheard that her two sons had been killed, and she herself thought she\nwould follow them through grief. But she lived on and as she grew more\nsorrowful she went less and less to the village, and people began to\nforget her. Even the little children stayed away since she had no longer\nthe heart to tell them the tales she had once told her sons; and she must\nno longer bake the little cakes since every day saw her small hoard of\nmoney diminishing.\n\nAt last, when the winter tempests were raging, and the sleet was beating\nupon the thatch, there came a day when no food remained in the cottage;\nand Mother Huldah felt too weak and sick to go out in quest of it. Nor\ndid she wish to tell her neighbors that no food remained in the cottage.\n\nSo full of weary dreams and old sad thoughts she sat down in one of the\narmchairs before the fire, and whether she nodded from drowsiness, or\nwhether Tommie nodded at her she never knew, but he moved his black head\nand opened his pink mouth, and said he, \"Suppose I fetch you a bird just\nthis once.\"\n\nShe was much surprised, for Tommie had never talked to her before, but\nshe did not show how astonished she was because she was always very\npolite to him. So she replied, \"Bless your whiskers! Tommie! but we won't\nbreak through our rule. Maybe some neighbor will fetch me a loaf!\"\n\n\"Maybe they will and perhaps they won't,\" said Tommie, \"they're an\nungrateful lot.\"\n\n\"They think I am still rich, my dear,\" she answered.\n\n\"So you are, but not in the way they mean,\" Tommie said. \"And,\nMother Huldah, if they neglect you a day longer it won't be your\nTommie's fault.\"\n\nThen Mother Huldah shook her finger at him. \"You switch your tail just as\nif you were going to steal something. Tommie, I brought you up better\nthan that.\"\n\n\"Steal! nonsense!\" cried Tommie. \"Most of 'em have more than they\nneed, anyway.\"\n\n\"Tommie, I believe you're hungry, or your morals wouldn't be so queer!\"\nMother Huldah said reprovingly.\n\n\"Hungry!\" exclaimed Tommie. \"I dream of lobster claws and chicken wings\nand blue saucers full of yellow wrinkled cream, twelve in a row. No\nwonder my morals are queer!\"\n\nThen what happened was that poor Mother Huldah dozed off to sleep and\nwhen she awoke there was Tommie staring into the fire, his green eyes\nlike two lanterns and his whiskers standing out very stiff and knowing,\nand at Mother Huldah's' feet was a wicker basket from which issued a most\nappetizing odor. \"Why, Thomas\" (she always called him Thomas in solemn\nmoments), \"what's this?\"\n\n\"Your dinner,\" said Tommie, and yawned like a gentleman who lights a\ncigarette and says, \"O hang it all! what a beastly bore life is.\"\n\n\"Thomas,\" questioned Mother Huldah solemnly, \"where did you get this\ndinner?\" for she had taken the cover off the basket and found a small\nroast chicken with vegetables and a bread pudding.\n\n\"Why, I was strolling down the gray lane when I met a woman carrying that\nbasket and I smelled chicken; so up I stood on my hind legs, and winked\nat her and I said, 'Thank you, I know you are taking that to Mother\nHuldah; let me carry it the rest of the way.'\"\n\nBut Mother Huldah cried, \"Maybe the dinner wasn't for me, and you\nfrightened her so she had to give it to you.\"\n\nTommie yawned again. \"Don't you think that the best thing you can do with\na good dinner is to eat it?\"\n\nSo Mother Huldah ate her dinner, hoping all the while that she was making\nan honest meal; then, when she had fed Thomas, she asked him if\nCharlemagne was on the roof. \"Indeed, no!\" cried he. \"Charlemagne has\nflown to the war country to fetch you a baby!\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Mother Huldah. \"I pity the poor babes, but how can I bring\nup a baby?\"\n\n\"It is your granddaughter,\" said Tommie. \"Charlemagne told me that a year\nago your son Rupert married, but he meant to bring his bride home as a\nsurprise to you. Then the war broke out and--\"\n\n\"O poor little daughter-in-law!\" cried Mother Huldah. \"Did she break\nher heart?\"\n\n\"Yes, and so she followed Rupert to the Country of the Brave Souls; but\nCharlemagne is fetching the baby in a warm woolen napkin tied up at the\nfour corners; and when his wings get tired from flying he puts a bit of\nsugar and a drop of water in the baby's mouth and leans his feathery\nbreast against its little feet to keep them warm!\"\n\n\"Yes! yes!\" said Mother Huldah, \"a baby's feet should be always kept\nwarm--but, dear me, dear me, the Sweet One will need milk before long,\nand the grain of the whole wheat to help her grow! I have no money to buy\nher food.\"\n\nTommie looked very wise. \"Mother Huldah,\" he said as he drew a black paw\nknowingly over one ear, \"don't you know that wherever a baby comes, help\ncomes? Open the linen chest and get your shining shears and begin to make\nlittle shirts and dresses. I think I'll take a look at the weather.\"\n\nHe made the last remark carelessly like a young gentleman who will stroll\nout and leave the women-folk to their devices.\n\n\"O Tommie!\" said Mother Huldah, \"you are not going to do anything\nimpulsive?\"\n\n\"Mother Huldah,\" replied Tommie, \"did you ever know a cat to do anything\nimpulsive unless he saw a bird, or a mouse?\"\n\nWith that he left her, and she watched him walk away down the forest path\nwith the sunlight glistening on his coat and his tail held high and\nstraight. Sometimes he would pause and lift one foot daintily, the toes\ncurling in. Mother Huldah always said that Tommie heard not with his ears\nbut with his whiskers, and perhaps it was true.\n\nTommie himself was making his own plans as he went along. \"If I tell\nthese villagers outright that Mother Huldah is in need, each person will\nthink, 'O well, Neighbor Jude, or Gossip Dorcas has more to spare than I.\nSomeone else will take care of the poor old lady, I am sure.' And it will\nend in her getting nothing at all. I will not talk about her, but to each\nperson I will talk about himself, for that is the way to get people\ninterested.\"\n\nAt which Tommie smiled, and because his great-grandfather was a Cheshire\nCat, his smile gave him a wise and jovial look, as if the Sphinx of Egypt\nshould suddenly see a joke. With a good heart he went daintily on his\nway, shaking the snow from his paws at times, until he reached the\nvillage green. Now in the middle of the green stood the pump, made of\nwood with a flat top. On this Tommie seated himself, put his paws neatly\ntogether, folded his tail about them, made his green eyes perfectly\nround, and stared straight ahead of him.\n\nNow even a cat when he looks as if he could think for himself will draw\npeople's attention; especially if he seems to enjoy his thoughts. And\nTommie, seated on the pump in the bright winter sunshine, looked as if he\nhad something in his mind that pleased him.\n\n\"Heigh-O,\" said one of the passers-by. \"Here's a witch-cat!\"\n\n\"You are mistaken,\" replied Tommie with a wink. \"I belong to Mother\nHuldah, and she is the best woman in the village.\"\n\nThe man was so astonished that he dropped a parcel of eggs he was\ncarrying, and they were all broken.\n\n\"That's what comes,\" said Tommie, \"of imagining evil where none exists.\"\n\nThe man was so angry that he made some snowballs hastily and began to\npelt Tommie with them; but Tommie understood the beautiful art of\ndodging--which some people never learn all their lives--so he didn't get\nhit. By this time a crowd had gathered about the angry man, and were\nasking him what was the matter.\n\n\"Matter!\" he shrieked, \"that black object on the pump gave me impudence!\"\n\n\"Heigh-O!\" cried little Elsa. \"How could a cat give thee impudence!\"\n\n\"Ask him then,\" said the man. \"He can talk like any Christian.\"\n\nAt which the crowd all looked at Tommie, who winked at them and said,\n\"Does anybody here want to ask me any questions? I'll tell him what he\nwants to know in perfect confidence between him and me and the pump. If\nmy answer pleases him, he can give me a silver piece. If my reply make\nhis heart go pit-a-pat with joy he can give me a gold piece. If he\ndoesn't like my answers, he needn't give me anything. Now that's fair,\nisn't it?\"\n\nThen everybody looked at everybody else, and dropped their jaws and\nrubbed their eyes. Nobody stirred for a minute, then a fine young fellow\nstepped forward, blushing. This was Carl, the miller's son, who was\nstraight as a birch-tree, and had blue eyes like deep lakes, and he\nwalked right up to the pump, and bowed, then he whispered into Tommie's\near, \"Does Lucia love me?\"\n\nTommie winked his right eye and smiled. \"Carl,\" he replied, \"get up\nyour courage and ask her to-day, for she loves you better than anyone\nin the world.\"\n\nThen Carl felt his heart go pit-a-pat, and all the snow wreaths on the\ntrees seemed to turn to bridal flowers. \"Thanks, dear and wise Pussy,\" he\nsaid, and took out his handkerchief and spread it at Tommie's feet and on\nit he placed not one, but three gold pieces.\n\nWhen the villagers saw the gold pieces glittering in the sun and beheld\nthe radiant face of Carl, they all began to wonder, and each person\nwanted to try his own luck. \"After all,\" said each one to himself, \"if I\ndon't like what the cat says I needn't pay him anything.\"\n\nThe next person to go up was the village tanner, whose skin was like\nleather and whose eyes were little like a pig's. Tommie was already\nacquainted with him, having been kicked out of his tannery once when on\nan innocent mousing expedition.\n\n\"Say,\" said the tanner, \"will my Uncle Jean leave me his farm?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Tommie, winking his left eye. \"That he won't! He knows you\nare always wishing he would die!\"\n\nThe tanner was so angry that he snarled: \"Don't you ever let me catch you\naround the tannery again, or I'll make you into a muff for my daughter.\"\n\n\"Black furs are not fashionable this winter,\" said Tommie. \"Next?\"\n\nEverybody laughed when they saw that the tanner hadn't paid money for\nhis information, and so, presumably, didn't like it. But strangely\nenough, instead of discouraging this led them on to try their luck; and\nthe next person who came to ask Tommie a question was poor, old,\nhalf-blind Henley the miser. He put his mouth close to the cat's ear, so\nthe people behind him wouldn't catch what he said, and in a hoarse voice\nhe asked, \"Say, old whiskers, will my fine ship loaded with dates and\nspices reach Norway safely?\"\n\n\"Yes, it will,\" said Tommie, \"long before your withered old soul will\nreach a haven of peace.\"\n\nHenley was so excited over the first words that he didn't even hear the\nlast ones. He hopped about on one leg, and was rushing off at last when\nTommie cried, \"Heigh-O, you haven't paid me!\"\n\nThe miser felt in his pockets and drew out a silver coin and laid it on\nthe handkerchief.\n\n\"Not at all,\" said Tommie. \"Remember the Worth of that cargo! Gold\nor nothing.\"\n\nHenley began to whine. \"I'm a poor old man, Tommie. I'll leave the cream\njug on the doorstep every day and no questions will be asked!\"\n\n\"I'm not a thief,\" answered Tommie. \"Mother Huldah brought me up better\nthan that. Come, you don't want to have any quarrel with a black cat.\"\n\nWhereupon Henley reluctantly drew from his pocket a gold piece, while all\nthe villagers opened their eyes very wide, and wondered what Tommie could\nhave told the old gentleman to make him so liberal.\n\nThe next person to come up was a little shy girl named Clara. She had big\nbrown eyes and fair floating hair, and under her white chin and about her\nlittle white wrists were soft furs; for her father was a wealthy\nmoneylender. She came close to Tommie and whispered, \"Tell me, beautiful\nPussy, if I shall ever win the love of Joseph Grange.\"\n\nTommie winked his right eye several times and replied, \"My dear, I see\nit coming!\"\n\nShe flushed with joy. \"And what shall I do to hasten it?\"\n\nTommie reflected a moment. \"Be pleasant, but not anxious. A lady with\nan anxious expression has little chance of winning a lover! Don't\ninvite him too often; don't talk too much. Now I haven't hurt your\nfeelings, have I?\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" she said, for she was a young lady of good sense. \"And\nTommie, dear, will you take these gold pieces to Mother Huldah. She was\nso good to me when I was a little girl, and because I have been so\nabsorbed in my own affairs I haven't been to see her lately.\"\n\n\"That's the trouble with being in love,\" said Tommie, \"it's apt to make\npeople selfish, and it should make them love and remember everybody. It\ndoes when it's the real thing.\"\n\nLittle Clara clasped her hands earnestly. \"I will come to see Mother\nHuldah this afternoon,\" she said, \"and bring her some cakes of my\nown baking.\"\n\nAfter Clara one person and another came up. Some asked foolish questions,\nsome wise. Some paid down money, others didn't, but the pile of gold and\nsilver at Tommie's feet grew steadily.\n\nNow all novelties, even talking cats, soon cease to be novelties, and\ntowards afternoon when the villagers saw how much of their money lay at\nTommie's feet, some of them began to be discontented. Of these the tanner\nwas the ringleader, and he said to the other grumblers, \"If we can get\nthat lying cat off the pump, we can then take his money. I have three big\nrats in the trap at the tannery, and I know Tommie is starving hungry by\nthis time. We'll let 'em loose on the ground in front of the pump. When\nhe makes a spring one of you grab the money and run.\"\n\nNow the tanner had guessed right. Tommie was hungry, but he was\ndetermined to keep his post until sundown. After a while no more people\ncame, and he was just thinking he would take up the handkerchief by the\nfour corners and go home, when he espied a group of people approaching.\nSuddenly, oh, me, oh, my! three dinners were scampering towards him, such\nrats, such big, splendid rats in fine condition. Tommie had never used\nsuch self-control in all his nine lives, but he sat tight and though his\nwhiskers showed his agitation he never budged.\n\nThe tanner was mad clear through, and he cried out, \"He's a wizard; he\nought to be killed\" because some people can't see others controlling\nthemselves without thinking there's something wrong with them. Then he\nbegan to make snowballs and to pelt poor Tommie. Now Tommie, as has been\nsaid, was a good dodger, but nevertheless when it rains snowballs it's\nhard not to get hit. It might have fared badly with him had not some\nknights and ladies at that moment appeared on the scene in the train of\nthe beautiful Princess Yolande, one of the fairest princesses in all the\nrealm. She rode a great white horse, and she was robed in cream velvet\nand white furs, while about her slender waist was a girdle of gold set\nwith sapphires which were as blue as her eyes. By her side rode Lord\nMountfalcon. He was all in black armor, for he was mourning a brother who\nhad died in the distant war.\n\nLove as well as grief filled his heart, for his dark eyes were\ncontinually upon the beautiful Princess, who now reined in her horse and\ncried out in a sweet voice, \"Shame upon you men to hurt a poor cat.\"\n\n\"He is a wizard and he belongs to a witch,\" called out the tanner.\n\n\"O what a wicked lie,\" said Tommie. \"I don't care what names you call me,\nbut my mistress is one of the best women in the land. She has come to\npoverty in her old age. For her sake and to get her a little money, I've\nsat here all day answering truthfully all questions. Now, dear Princess\nYolande, believe me, for I am a true cat.\"\n\nThe Princess was so astonished that she couldn't speak for a moment. At\nlast she turned to Lord Mountfalcon and said: \"Truly, we have come to\nwonderland. I'd rather believe the cat than the people who were pelting\nhim, and I have a mind to test his powers. Let us alight and ask him\nquestions.\"\n\nThen they all dismounted and with the pages and the ladies and the\ngentlemen in armor the scene was as gay as the stage of an opera.\nEverybody chatted and laughed, and some of the court ladies stroked\nTommie's fur with their pretty white hands; and one took off her bracelet\nand hung it about his neck.\n\nBut when the Princess Yolande went forward to ask her question, everyone\nfell back. Then with sweet dignity, as became a princess, she stood\nbefore Tommie and said, \"Tell me if Lord Mountfalcon love me truly.\"\n\nTommie didn't wink, for he knew the ways of court, his grandfather having\nbeen chief mouser to old King Adelbert; but he purred a warm good purr,\nlike a mill grinding out pure white grain.\n\n\"If the sky in heaven be blue,\nThen Mountfalcon loves you true;\nIf the sun set in the West,\nLord Mountfalcon loves you best.\"\n\n\"You see,\" he added, \"I'm not much of a poet, but those are the facts.\"\n\n\"Never was bad verse so sweet to me,\" cried the Princess and she put down\na whole bag of gold at Tommie's feet.\n\nAfter her came Lord Mountfalcon himself with that sad grace of his, and\nall his spirit shadowed with love and grief. \"Sir Puss,\" he said, \"shall\nI wed ever the Princess Yolande?\"\n\n\"Before there are violets in the vales of the kingdom,\" replied Tommie.\n\n\"Two saddlebags will not hold the gold I shall give thee,\" exclaimed\nthe nobleman.\n\n\"Bring them to the cottage where Mother Huldah lives,\" said Tommie. \"And\nI ask this further favor: When you leave this spot will you take me up\nbehind you and give this money to a page to convey; and so bring me\nsafely home with the wealth, for I fear mischief from the tanner.\"\n\n\"Most willingly,\" said Mountfalcon. \"I will present your request to the\nPrincess.\"\n\nAfter him all the court came with questions; so when the page advanced\nto gather up the money the load was almost more than he could carry.\nThen Tommie jumped down from his perch, and another page lifted him\nsafely on to the big warm back of Lord Mountfalcon's horse, which felt\nfine and comforting to poor Tommie's feet. He was so tired that he took\nforty winks after he had told the Princess how to reach the cottage of\nMother Huldah.\n\nWhen he woke they were all in the dim forest and the Princess Yolande and\nLord Mountfalcon were talking in low tones like the whisper of the wind\nthrough flowers; and it seemed as if their talk were all of love and\ndreams and far-away griefs and tears that must fall.\n\nAt last they reined in their horses where Mother Huldah stood at her gate\npeering into the forest. When she saw the beautiful lady and the noble\nknight and Tommie on the horse's back, she cried out, \"O bless you, Sir\nKnight, for bringing him home.\"\n\n\"And I've brought a fortune with me, Mother Huldah,\" cried Tommie.\n\nAt this Mother Huldah looked troubled. \"Gracious Lady,\" she addressed the\nPrincess, \"I hope my cat has not been up to mischief.\"\n\n\"No, bless him,\" replied the Princess; then she told all that Tommie had\ndone. \"And fear not to take the money, Mother,\" she added, \"for those who\ngave it did so of their free-will.\"\n\n\"Alas! I would not take it,\" sighed Mother Huldah, \"had not my Rupert and\nmy Hugh died in the great war; and Rupert's wife went with him to the\nKingdom of the Brave Souls; and I expect Charlemagne to-night with their\nlittle baby.\"\n\n\"Rupert? what Rupert?\" asked Lord Mountfalcon, leaning down from\nhis horse.\n\n\"Rupert Gordon; I am Huldah Gordon, his bereaved mother!\"\n\nThen Mountfalcon removed his cap, alighted from his horse and bowed low\nbefore Mother Huldah. \"He died gloriously. He died trying to remove my\npoor brother from danger,\" he said. \"Now let me be as a son to you, for\nsweet memory's sake.\"\n\n[Illustration: CHARLEMAGNE BRINGS THE BABY TO MOTHER HULDAH]\n\nThen they all wept softly, for even to hear of those battles and those\nSilent Ones in the Kingdom of the Brave Souls was to behold the world\nthrough tears. And the Princess Yolande alighted and kissed Mother\nHuldah's hands and promised to visit her often.\n\nSo with many true words they parted at last, and Mother Huldah was left\nalone with Tommie and the bags of gold and silver, which she took indoors\nand then returned to scan the sky where now the white stars hung and a\nthin half-circle of a moon. Tommie romped in the snow for the joy of\nstretching his legs. After a while he said, \"Listen, don't you hear\nsomething, Mother Huldah?\"\n\n\"I would I heard wings!\" she cried.\n\n\"But I hear wings,\" said Tommie. \"Watch! watch where the North\nStar burns!\"\n\nSo Mother Huldah watched, and soon she saw the great outspread wings\nof Charlemagne and saw his long bill with something hanging from the\nend of it.\n\n\"My word, here's the baby,\" called out Tommie. \"Hello, Charlemagne, you\nold Grandpa! have you kept that precious infant warm?\"\n\nBut Charlemagne alighted on his feet and walked solemnly to Mother Huldah\nand laid in her arms the softest, sweetest, pinkest little baby that she\nhad ever seen. There was golden down on its head, and its little hands\nwere folded like rosebuds beneath its tiny chin.\n\nMother Huldah felt its feet to know if they were warm; then she cried\nand sobbed and held the little thing to her breast; and trembled for\nlove of it.\n\n\"Take it before the fire,\" said Tommie. \"We're all tired to-night and\nit will be good to drowse and dream. Good-night, Charlemagne. The\nchimney's warm.\"\n\nSo the stork flew up to the roof, and Mother Huldah took her treasure and\nheld it in her warm, ample lap before the fire; and Tommie winked and\ndozed and looked at the baby with his great green eyes, while Mother\nHuldah sang:\n\n\"The gold of the world will fade away,\n  Baby sleep! Baby sleep!\nBut thou wilt live in my heart alway,\n  Sleep, my darling, sleep.\n\n\"The gold of the world it comes and goes,\n  Baby sleep! Baby sleep!\nBut thou wilt bloom like a summer rose,\n  Cease my soul to weep.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAGIC TEARS\n\n\nThere was once a king named Theophile who lived in a dim castle on the\nedge of the ocean, but so far above the water that the flying spray never\nreached its lowest terrace; and only the strongest-winged seagulls could\ncircle its towers and turrets. It was a strange, melancholy, beautiful\nplace, where the light shimmered on the walls like the ripple of water,\nand in the shadows of the massive walls the flowers waved all day in the\nsea-wind like little princesses who would dance before they died.\n\nKing Theophile had led many armies to victory, driving his golden\nwhite-sailed boats upon far-off coasts, but from each conquest he\nreturned the sadder because he had made many people hate him, and had won\nno one's love. Nor could he find a woman who would wed him, because of\nthe sorrows of his line, which were great.\n\nWhen he was not at war he would labor for his kingdom until sunset, and\nat that hour he would leave his Council Chamber to pace the terraces and\ngaze seaward over the rocking blue-green waves, while his minstrels sang\nto him. Only music could drive away his care, so always a page with a\ngolden harp followed him. Sometimes he would bid everyone be gone but\nthis boy, and the two would glide like shadows through the long galleries\nwhere the bluish tapestries hung; or brood together by the roaring fire\nwhen the sleet rattled on the casements.\n\nOne spring day when it seemed as if even the ocean air wafted the\nfragrance of little pale flowers and the sun shone warmly on the old gray\nwalls of the castle, the King and the boy wandered into the garden of the\nwhite lilacs; where, on a marble bench, King Theophile seated himself,\nand listened while the boy sang:\n\n\"My love came out of an old dream,\n  And took away my peace;\nAnd now I dare not sleep again,\n  Until this heartache cease.\"\n\n\"Did he ever know slumber again, I wonder,\" said the King. \"O boy, of\nwhat use are your love-songs!\"\n\n\"To arouse love in your heart, Sire!\"\n\n\"What good is that when I have no maiden to love!\"\n\n\"Listen, Sire,\" said the boy. \"You are going to war with King Mace who\nhas a most beautiful daughter, the Princess Elene. When you have\noverthrown him, bring her to your kingdom and wed her.\"\n\n\"A strange way to win the love of a woman,\" said the King, \"by invading\nher father's kingdom. Nevertheless, I will have regard to the maiden.\"\n\n\"I have heard,\" said the page, \"that they who once behold her are\nrestless ever afterwards from the wound of her beauty.\"\n\nThe King nodded wearily. \"There are women like that--gleams from lost\nstars; faces seen at sunset; or where the light is lifting after a storm.\nI have never cast eyes on such a maid.\"\n\n\"When you see the Princess Elene you will behold her,\" said the page.\n\n\"I will set forth to war immediately,\" announced the King.\n\nSoon thereafter he sailed away, and over the rocking billows went the\ngolden boats until they drove upon the coasts of King Mace's land, where\nbitter battles were fought and many men laid asleep with the sword. Then\ncame a day when all was quiet, and even King Mace pillowed his royal head\non his dead horse, and woke no more.\n\nThen King Theophile entered the little sunny palace where all was so\nsilent, and strode through the echoing corridors to the throne room.\nThere alone, beneath a canopy of azure satin, on the great throne sat a\nwoman whose face was like a gleam from a lost star. She had proud lips,\nand hair that was like cloth of gold about her, and eyes that were wells\nof sorrow. When he beheld her, King Theophile's limbs became as weak as a\nnew-born child's, and he heard the sound of a far-off wind that had\ntraveled from the Kingdom of Lost Hope. He knew that henceforth for him\nthere must be either love or death.\n\n\"O Princess,\" he cried, \"they are all asleep. But thou and I are awake.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she replied, \"they are awake. Their spirits crowd this hall to\nwring my heart with pity; but thou art asleep.\"\n\nHer words were like a sword in his breast, and kneeling before her, he\ncried: \"Come with me to my Kingdom. Thou art my only Love.\"\n\n\"Thou mayst force me to wed thee,\" she replied, \"but the sword which can\nslay, can never wake love to life. Thou hast come to the end of thy\nconquests.\"\n\nThen King Theophile tasted the bitterness of death as the men who slept\nfrom the stroke of his sword could never taste it. And because he was not\na man to put his soul into the keeping of his tongue, he made no answer,\nbut in his secret heart he resolved to win her love, though the adventure\ncost him years of pain.\n\nSo while he lingered in her kingdom, building costly monuments to the\ndead, and showering gold on the wounded, and sending into fine houses the\nhomeless whose hearts ached for vanished humble hearths; while he worked\nto draw life out of death, he spared no effort to bring a smile to the\nlips of the Princess Elene.\n\nBut she never smiled, and though her heart was breaking, she could not\nweep. Often she said to her women, \"Pray that I may have the gift of\ntears,\" but always her eyes remained dry, like the vision of those who\nhave gazed too long on fire.\n\nTo King Theophile she seemed the very Beauty of the World, as in her\nblack robes she sat in her garden at her tapestry frame, or listened with\nveiled eyes to the singing of his minstrels. And in his heart was a\nbattle greater than any he had ever waged in desolated lands, for his\nnobler self told him he had no right to wed her. But his wild love drove\nlike a tempest across these whispers.\n\n[Illustration: KING THEOPHILE AND QUEEN ELENE]\n\nSo at last he married her in the dim cathedral church of her dead\nfather's kingdom, with pomp of flowers and lights and nuptial music, and\nshe was as pale as those who live long underground.\n\nThen the golden boats drove home across the rocking billows, and one day\nthe Queen Elene, as she was now titled, lifted her eyes and beheld the\ngaunt castle of King Theophile cutting the sky. A mist seemed to hang all\nits turrets with fog and vapor. Elene remembered the shining happy little\ncastle of her vanished kingdom, and her heart was bitter with tears, but\nshe could not shed them.\n\nKing Theophile, gazing upon her face, read her thoughts, for he had the\nsecond-sight of lovers; and his heart was as lead in his breast. He was\njealous of the very years when he had not known her. Her beauty troubled\nhim like a half remembered name, and when he was in her presence he had\nthe trembling of illness upon him, and when away from her he was as\nrestless as a fallen leaf that the wind blows.\n\nThrough many days and weeks he wooed her to bring the smile to her lips,\nbut always she grew whiter and more desolate; so that when she walked the\nterraces above the boiling surf, she seemed like a white flower torn of\nits petals and tossed up by the bitter waves.\n\nAt the end of a year there came a daughter from the Kingdom of the Little\nSouls, and lay like a white bud on the Queen's bosom. Then at last Elene\nsmiled and wept, but her strength was gone; and soon afterwards she\nclosed her eyes and went to sleep.\n\nKing Theophile's heart was broken, for the baby, and not he, himself, had\nmade Elene smile and weep. When the days of the court mourning were over\nthe little daughter was christened, and to her christening came all the\nwise women of the kingdom. Each told what this child would be. One said,\n\"She will have the beauty of shimmering rainbows\"; another, \"She will be\nas wise as she is good.\" But the Wisest Woman of all said, \"Every person\nwill read his future in her tears.\"\n\nNow this prophecy troubled King Theophile and awoke love in his heart for\nhis little daughter, who was already showing how beautiful she would be\nsome day. So he watched over her, and made one of his echoing rooms into\nthe royal nursery.\n\nNow the nurses knew what the Wisest Woman had said--that the tears of\nthis Princess would be a magic mirror of the future; and one day when\nthe child was two years old, the head nurse, who had a sweetheart and\nwished to know whether she would marry him, resolved to make the\nlittle girl cry.\n\nNow she was puzzled how to do this, for the royal maid was sweet-tempered\nand obedient; but the nurse knew that Elene loved most dearly a beautiful\ndoll as big as herself, so one afternoon, when the Princess was clasping\nthis treasure to her little breast, the nurse making sure first that no\none was looking, snatched it from her and threw it into the sea.\n\n[Illustration: THE NURSE SEES HER WEDDING IN THE PRINCESS'S TEARS]\n\nThe baby-princess when she saw her darling doll falling into the water\nbegan to wail, and tears came into her eyes. Then her nurse knelt before\nher, and saw in those tears her own wedding. So happy was she over this\nsight that she jumped up and began to caper about, heeding not the sobs\nof the poor little Princess.\n\nBut King Theophile heard them and came out with a face of thunder.\n\"Woman,\" he cried, \"why do you dance when a princess weeps?\"\n\nThen the nurse came to her senses and grew gray with fear. She tried to\nmutter some excuse, but King Theophile dismissed her on the spot and\ngathering up his baby into his arms, took her into the nursery, and wiped\naway her tears. Yet her sobs did not cease and she was too little to tell\nhim of her woe.\n\nThe nurse, though she left the King's service, did marry immediately; and\nbegan to whisper how she had seen her wedding in the tears of the\nPrincess Elene, which word was to work out cruelly for the royal child.\nFrom that day on those about her, though they loved her dearly, could not\nrefrain from trying their fortune in her tears. As she grew older and\nmore understanding it was a difficult matter to know how to make her cry\nwithout incurring suspicion.\n\nBut even a wrong will finds its way, and little Elene grew up wondering\nwhy people were so unkind to her; and why there was so much sadness in\nthe world, for when all else failed the minstrels could make her weep by\nsinging of \"old, unhappy far-off things, and battles long-ago.\"\n\nKing Theophile did not know of these troubles of his little daughter, for\nshe had learned early that her tears hurt him, so she concealed them from\nhim. All his joy was now in her, for she was the very image of her dead\nmother, and beautiful as a dawn of May day. When she danced she was like\nthe light that ripples over the flowers; when she sang the souls of all\nyoung birds seemed to float on her voice.\n\nThe fame of her beauty went through many kingdoms, and with the legend of\nher loveliness was told the strange tale of her magic tears.\n\nNow three young princes from three great States, fell ardently in love\nwith Elene from the mere breath of the rumor of her charms. The first was\nPrince Tristan, the second Prince Martin, the third Prince Lorenzo; and\nboth Prince Tristan and Prince Martin were sure of winning.\n\nBut Prince Lorenzo was not at all sure, because he had lost much in his\nshort life, and knew that love is like the wind that comes and goes; like\nthe fire that leaps into the night and is seen no more; like the star\nthat flashes across the dark zenith and then vanishes.\n\nOne May morning the three Princes arrived to try their fortunes and to\nsue for the hand of the Princess Elene. Prince Tristan, who was straight\nand handsome, put on his best white satin doublet and stuck a rose behind\nhis ear. Prince Martin put on glittering armor like a knight going to\nbattle; but Prince Lorenzo was so consumed with love that he thought not\nat all of what he wore.\n\nKing Theophile himself led them into the presence of the Princess Elene,\nwho was clad in a silk robe that shimmered like a rainbow, and who looked\nso beautiful that for an instant Prince Lorenzo put his hand before his\neyes. The two other princes gazed straight at the lady; then made grand\nsweeping bows.\n\n\"May I tell you,\" said Prince Tristan, holding out his rose, \"that you\nare the most beautiful princess I have ever seen?\"\n\n\"May I tell you,\" said Prince Martin, \"that your eyes are like stars?\"\n\nPrince Lorenzo remained mute because his heart was too full for speech,\nand King Theophile looked coldly upon him; but the Princess Elene gazed\nat him until he blushed. Then she seated herself on her throne and bade\nthe princes speak to her of what pleased them best.\n\nPrince Tristan began at once to tell her of his hunting exploits, and\nwhat joy he took in the chase. But the Princess's face grew colder and\ncolder as she listened, for she loved all living things, and could not\nbear to see any of them hurt. Tristan did not observe this, for like all\nvain people, he was thinking of his own charms, and so was unaware of the\neffect he was producing.\n\nHe finished with a flourish, and Prince Martin stumbled in on the last\nwords, so eager was he to render in his turn a glowing account of all his\nfine deeds. These were not few, for he was a brave lad, so for an hour he\ndiscoursed upon tourneys and battles; nor did he observe that the\nPrincess Elene grew pale--and trembled, for her mother's sorrow over war\nlived again in her heart.\n\nTo her relief he came at last to the end of his recital; then with a sigh\nElene turned her beautiful eyes upon Prince Lorenzo. \"And what have you\nto tell me, my Prince?\"\n\nFor answer he said to a page, \"Give me thy harp\"; and when it was\ndelivered to him he struck the strings and sang:\n\n\"In the hour of the white moths flying\n   Beneath the great gray moon,\nMy sad heart was a-sighing\n   Lest love should come too soon.\n\n\"In the hour of the dawn-birds flying\n   Each to his feathery mate,\n My sad heart was a-sighing\n   Lest love should come too late.\n\n\"Thy spirit heard my voicing,\n   And bade me cease from fears,\n And follow thee, rejoicing,\n   Beyond all time and tears.\"\n\n\"It is a beautiful song,\" said the Princess. \"And it would be sweet to\nfollow someone beyond time and tears.\"\n\nThen Prince Tristan and Prince Martin looked enviously at Prince Lorenzo;\nand Prince Martin said contemptuously, \"I did not know that thou wert a\nminstrel.\"\n\n\"Thou mayst yet discover that I am a shoemaker,\" returned Lorenzo. \"Also,\nif there were no carpenters in the world we should all be houseless. A\ncarpenter may, indeed, be of more use than a princeling.\"\n\nTristan looked at Elene to see how she bore the shock of hearing such\npeople mentioned as carpenters and shoemakers; but she was smiling as if\nLorenzo's words pleased her.\n\nThe three princes stayed on at the Castle, and the court was very gay.\nOnly King Theophile's heart was heavy, for he knew that he must lose his\nmost beautiful daughter. She was equally kind to all her suitors, and he\ncould not discover which prince she favored. So one evening he came to\nher in her octagon room, which was of white ivory and whose windows were\nhung with coral silk; and he found her spinning with her maidens. Her\nrobe of lace rippled about her little feet, and the band of sapphires\nwhich held back her yellow hair were not as blue as her eyes.\n\nKing Theophile dismissed the maidens, and seating himself beside his\ndaughter he took her hand and said:\n\n\"O ray of sunlight out of a great sorrow, tell me in the name of thy dead\nmother, to whom thou hast given thine heart?\"\n\nBut the Princess veiled her eyes and drooped her head, for a burden was\nupon her soul. \"My father,\" she said, \"a prince can not easily be a\nlover, for love has but one object, and in the life of a prince are many\nobjects. I would be loved, but fine words are no proof of a heart.\"\n\n\"Prince Tristan is a noble youth.\"\n\n\"He is too fond of killing,\" replied Elene.\n\nKing Theophile's cheeks grew pale, for he thought of the long-ago wars\nand men asleep in crimson meadows that had once been green.\n\n\"Prince Martin is a gallant lad.\"\n\n\"He would rather contend with others than with himself,\" said the\nPrincess.\n\n\"As for Prince Lorenzo, he dreams too much.\"\n\n\"Dreamers oft know more than those who are awake,\" replied Elene.\n\nKing Theophile sighed, for when his Princess spoke in this wise she\nseemed to pass from his arms into the arms of her dead mother. Now when\nElene heard him sigh her heart was touched, for she loved him dearly.\n\n\"King-Father, do not sigh. I will make my choice, and this will be the\nmanner of my choosing. Thou knowst my tears can show the future.\"\n\nThen the King grew pale, for he thought of the mother who could not weep\nuntil the little daughter was laid upon her breast.\n\n\"My three suitors may try their fortunes through my tears one week from,\nthis night; that is--\" she added, \"if they have power to make me weep. He\nwho beholds me weep, him will I wed.\"\n\nThe King was sad when he heard this, but he saw it was her will and\nrefrained from protest. Next day he announced to the court and to\nthe three suitors through what means the Princess Elene would make\nher decision.\n\nFrom that day on Elene saw little of the three princes, for Prince\nLorenzo was wandering off in the forests alone and Prince Martin and\nPrince Tristan were trying pathos on the maids of honor, each vying with\nthe other to tell the saddest tales. They succeeded so well that the\nnoble maidens nearly cried their eyes out. King Theophile was much\nembarrassed to come, in his walks, upon a little maid of honor weeping\ninto her handkerchief, while a Prince discoursed at her feet.\n\nAt last the week wore away, and the court assembled for what someone\ncalled the Trial of Tears. A thousand wax candles were lit in the\nglittering throne room. King Theophile sat upon his throne, and on his\nright hand was the Princess Elene, crowned with white roses, and robed in\nwhite silk which had a shimmer of gold in its folds. At the foot of the\nthrone sat the three princes.\n\nWhen all were assembled the King arose and announced the intention of\nthe Princess to give her hand to him who should behold in her tears\nher wedding.\n\nPrince Tristan was the first to try his fortune. He had chosen the tale\nof a young girl cruelly turned adrift in a forest and left there to die,\nand he related it with every circumstance that could render it more\npiteous. Soon every lady in the court was weeping, but to the eyes of the\nPrincess Elene came no tears, which made Prince Tristan angry, so that he\nfinished his tale in a sullen muttering voice.\n\nThen Prince Martin rose and told a story of little children who had\nclimbed into a boat which the rising tide seized and carried out to sea.\nThey were too little to be afraid, and only when starvation seized them\ndid they begin to wail for their mothers.\n\nThis story, related in a soft, melancholy voice, touched all hearts, and\nthrough the court there was the sound of weeping, but the Princess gazed\nstraight before her, and her eyes were dry.\n\nPrince Martin ended his tale with real sadness, for he saw that the\nPrincess Elene was unmoved by his narrative, and with drooping head he\nreturned to his seat.\n\nThen rose Prince Lorenzo and bowed low before the Princess. \"Even to win\nyou,\" he said, \"I would not have you shed tears, for you have been made\nto shed too many in your short life.\"\n\nHe had scarcely uttered these words when the Princess's lip quivered like\nthat of a little child and sudden tears welled up in her eyes. As they\nfell Lorenzo went quickly to her, and gazing upon her face, gave a cry of\njoy. \"O my Love!\" he exclaimed. \"I see thee all in a white veil and I am\nby thy side!\"\n\nThen smiling through her tears, she arose and held out her hand to him,\nand the court knew that he was the chosen one. He knelt before her and\nkissed her hand, while the heralds proclaimed him the victor.\n\nSo they were married and lived happily ever afterwards, for she was a\ntrue Princess and he was a true Prince.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN ARCHER\n\n\nIn the midst of a plain stood a great church built of white stones, with\na massive tower. On this tower was a weather vane in the shape of a\ngolden man who rode a golden horse, and made ready to shoot a golden\narrow. Only the arrow never left the bow, but pointed always to the\ndirection from which the wind blew--north from the mountains; east from\nthe sea; west from the plain; south from the waving forests.\n\nNow the Archer looked very small from the court in front of the cathedral\nbecause he was up so high in the air; so high, indeed, that often the\nlightning passed through his body. In reality he was not small, but\nlife-size, and he had once been a man, but now he was a weather vane\nbecause he had made a vow to dwell forever on the tower and show the\npeople from which direction came the life-bringing winds.\n\nFor the reason that he had a man's heart in his golden body, life was not\nalways easy for him up there in the high place, and his eyes would sweep\nthe far horizons in search of someone to companion him, but no living\nthing passed by him but the beautiful sea-birds who had learned that his\ngolden arrow would never pierce their breasts--and so they loved him, and\nperched upon his arm that drew the bow.\n\nEven the winds were kind to him because he moved so easily at their\nbehest, but all winds were not alike to him who had the heart of a man.\nWhen spring came and the breezes blew from the south, heavy with the\nscent of magnolia, of lilacs, and blue violets, the heart of the Golden\nArcher ached with a strange hurt out of vanished years that he couldn't\nquite remember. When summer brought to him the delicious odor of grapes\nand berries and strong bright flowers, he longed to go down from the\ntower and wander after the fireflies' lanterns among the loaded vines, or\npillow his head on sweet hay and let the winds put him to sleep forever.\n\nWhen autumn came, and the flying leaves, as golden as his own steed,\nlooked like yellow butterflies too tired to move their wings, the Archer\nwould think of fires on hearths only half remembered, and he wished he\ncould stable his golden horse while he joined some group about the\ndancing flames.\n\nWinter was hardest of all to him, for all the world went in-doors and\nleft him lonely. The frost-fairies, that glided down the blue rays of the\nwinter-moon with their little lanterns that gave much color but no heat,\nthese little creatures could not comfort him, because though he rode so\nhigh and was so straight, still he had the heart of a man. Sometimes the\nwild snows came and blinded his steady, sorrowful eyes; and in blackest\nmidnight, when the sleet rattled against the golden sides of his horse,\nthen, indeed, he felt alone and forgotten.\n\nFor the people on the plain, though they looked to his guiding arrow did\nnot love him because they thought him only a weather vane.\n\nSo the years drove on and the Golden Archer grew lonelier and lonelier.\nCame at last a spring when the scent of peach-blossom was like the hurt\nof too great joy, and far-away the peach-orchards splashed the land with\npink. High up in the air the Archer looked wistfully southward and\npointed his bow towards clouds of sweetness and rose-color. How he longed\nto leave the great white stones of the tower and go wandering through\nthose creamy orchards and down the green aisles of the forests by bright\nrefreshing streams.\n\nAs he was gazing one day over the fertile plain he saw moving upon it\nwhat looked to him from that height like a very little girl. But he knew\nthat she must be really a tall, slender maiden. That she had golden hair\nhe also knew because it gleamed in the sun.\n\nThen his lonely heart desired her company and he sent out thoughts to\nher, for being an Archer he could do this. Thoughts were his real arrows.\n\nSo this thought he sent towards her: \"I do not know who you are, but I\nam a lonely Archer on the great cathedral where I have made a vow to\ntell forever the wandering of the wind. I cannot come to thee, but\nclimb the winding stairs to this high place that I may gaze upon thee.\nI am lonely.\"\n\nNow the young girl was walking at sunset in the orchards with her\nbetrothed when through the air this message came to her, and, lifting up\nher eyes, she said: \"See where the last light lies on the Golden Archer.\nHow graceful he is, like a bit of flame above the old white church.\"\n\n\"They say the view is fine from there,\" answered her sweetheart.\n\n\"Let us climb up to-morrow,\" proposed the maid, whose name was Felice.\n\nSo next day at sunset she and her betrothed climbed the winding stair of\nthe cathedral, and emerged on the roof near the Golden Archer, who, when\nhe saw the maiden, felt an old rapture sweep over him. For a moment he so\nforgot his vow that he stood quite still, though the wind was veering.\nHow beautiful she was with all the beauty of the sweet earth from which\nhe had been so long removed. Her hair was like harvest-corn, and her eyes\nwere like dim places where violets hide. The soft voice of her was as\nmusic in the Archer's ears, who had heard too long the jangling of iron\nbells in the towers beneath him.\n\nAnd now she was looking at him. Old memories stirred in him beneath the\narmor that hid his manhood. He wanted to get down from his golden horse\nand lay aside his bow and arrow, and take her in his arms.\n\n\"What a beautiful Archer,\" she was saying, \"how crisp his hair, how clear\nand firm his lips, how pure his profile.\"\n\nNow her betrothed could be jealous even of a weather vane, so he said:\n\"Anyone can be beautiful who is made of metal.\"\n\n\"It is an imperishable beauty,\" she replied. \"Flesh and blood decay.\"\n\nThe Golden Archer was so agitated that he turned his eyes upon her, and\nall at once she knew that he was alive and her heart was aflame with\nlove for him.\n\nNext day she came alone to the tower. She found him pointing north and\nlooking away from her, for the vow had gripped him again like the frosts\nof winter. But she spoke softly and said, \"Beloved, the spring is here.\"\n\nThen the south wind came, and against his will he veered and looked at\nher. She came close to his golden horse and touched the arm that held the\nbow. \"You drew me to you, and now you do not look at me,\" she said.\n\n\"I am afraid to look at you,\" he replied and dropped his golden eyelids.\n\n\"Yet you are not afraid to gaze into the sky,\" she ventured.\n\n\"Out of the sky will come nothing to harm me,\" he answered.\n\n\"Could I harm you, soul of my soul?\" she cried.\n\n\"You could make me love you,\" was his answer.\n\nSo they were quiet for a while. She watched the sea-birds circle about\nhis shining horse which seemed ever ready to plunge from the cathedral\ntower into the spaces of the air, yet remained always the toy of the\nwinds. She listened to the hoarse voices of the huge bells that swung\nbeneath her.\n\nAt last she rose and unbound her hair so that it floated like a golden\nbanner in the wind. \"Come,\" she whispered.\n\nThen the Golden Archer felt all the pain of those who must turn away from\nthe voice of love. His eyes looked towards the sunset, but his heart\nseemed drowning in a strange, sweet, throbbing darkness. \"Come nearer,\"\nhe whispered.\n\nSo she went so near that her golden hair floated all about him and he saw\nthe landscape through a yellow cloud. \"Kiss me,\" she said.\n\nBut he set his lips steadfastly, and tried to turn to the north, which he\ncould not do, for the wind was steadily from the south.\n\n\"I am cold,\" she whispered. \"Let us go down to the warm orchards.\"\n\n\"Go!\" he answered, \"for your words pierce my heart, and I have made a vow\nto tell the people about the coming and going of the great winds.\"\n\n\"My love is a great wind,\" she said.\n\nThen sadly she left him. He was alone on his tower and night was coming.\n\nHe tried to think of his vow, but her eyes called him, her lips brushed\nhis like the light wing of a nesting bird. Hour after hour he endured the\npain--and at last tears rolled from his eyes and melted his armor. The\nGolden Archer felt his old humanity return like a flood and set him free;\nand in the silence that comes before the dawn, he got down from his\nhorse. The limbs of the golden animal were moving also; and stealthily,\nwith the cramped action of those too long in one position, horse and man\nwent down the stairs of the church, through the stone vestibule and out\ninto the sweet, warm plain.\n\nThe Golden Archer knelt beneath the stars and wept himself back to his\nold beautiful manhood, then, mounting his horse, he galloped to the edge\nof the forest where in a cottage smothered beneath roses and honeysuckle\nFelice lived; once at her window he whispered: \"The Golden Archer has\ncome for thee, dearest.\"\n\nThen she came out trembling, and in the gray light he took her in his\narms and comforted her. \"We will ride away and be married,\" he said. Then\nhe lifted her on his horse, and they rode away through the forest, she\nlying quite still against his heart, and gazing with wide-open eyes into\nthe green dimness. So they came to a church and were married.\n\nThat night they went to an inn on the borders of the forest, an old house\nwith nine gables, deep moss on the roof, and a creaking signboard with a\ncrowing bird painted on it; and the inn was called \"The Crowing Cock.\"\n\nNow there were many countrymen seated in the inn-parlor, and as the\nGolden Archer entered the room everyone rose and bowed; and as they\npassed through, Felice heard a peasant say, \"How strange that a prince\nshould marry a farm-girl.\"\n\nThen the hot color came into her face, for Felice was very proud, and did\nnot like to be thought inferior to her husband. When they were alone\ntogether she related what she had heard. The Golden Archer looked\npuzzled, for he thought that she loved him too well to care for such\ntrifles. \"We are one because we are dear to each other,\" he cried, and\ntook her in his arms and cherished her.\n\nNext day came the Mistress of the Inn to set the room in order, and\nas she bustled about she said, \"From what kingdom comes your husband,\nthe Prince?\"\n\n\"My husband is not a prince,\" said Felice.\n\n\"He talks and acts like one,\" remarked the Hostess. \"What is he then?\"\n\nThe little Felice felt her cheeks burn. She could not say that her\nhusband had been a weather vane, and was now a man, so she replied, \"He\noccupied a very high position of trust.\"\n\n\"Yet he seems to know as little of real life as a prince,\" mused the\nHostess. \"He has asked me strange questions about quite ordinary things.\"\n\nFelice grew pinker than ever; and when the Golden Archer came into the\nroom he found her in tears.\n\n\"Heart's dearest, why do you weep?\" he said.\n\nThen she told him her trouble. He must act like other people, she said,\nor tongues would begin to wag. He must forget that he had ever been a\nweather vane and must learn the ways of the world. The Golden Archer's\nheart was wounded by her words.\n\n\"Do you remember,\" he said, \"that you called your love for me a\ngreat wind.\"\n\n\"Yes, I remember.\"\n\n\"A great wind blows everything before it, even the words of men.\"\n\nNow Felice was a woman who catches up phrases too easily and speaks them\ntoo trippingly. So she answered, \"If you love me you will do anything for\nme,\" for that was her test of love, that whoever cared for her should\nbend ever to her will.\n\n\"We must serve each other,\" said the Archer, to whom the winds in all\nthose years had whispered many secrets. \"When equality in love or\nfriendship ceases the end of joy is near. But remove the cloud from\nyour forehead, dear love, and let us hunt the blue gentians in the\nforest glades.\"\n\n\"Oh, no! let us go to the village fair,\" said Felice.\n\n\"What! Exchange those cool, dim places, flower-scented, for the glare and\nnoise of a fair?\"\n\n\"No one can see me in the forest,\" remarked Felice, turning her head from\nside to side and gazing in a mirror.\n\n\"But I see you! Isn't that enough!\"\n\nFelice sighed, for she liked admiration, and the Golden Archer said no\nmore about gathering gentians, but went with her to the fair, which was a\nsacrifice, for he loved fresh air and solitude; and the crowds, the heat,\nand the dust made his head ache. Then, too, he was not used to fairs, and\nmore than once made Felice uncomfortable by the questions he asked. She\nwas always afraid that he would betray his origin when anyone spoke of\nthe wind. Someone, indeed, said it was south, and the Golden Archer with\na smile corrected him. \"It is east,\" he remarked. \"Oh, what difference\ndoes it make!\" Felice cried crossly.\n\nHer ill-temper increased because people looked more at her husband than\nat her. The Golden Archer was, indeed, very handsome, and he had lived so\nmuch in the skies that he had a fine, free air. People could take long\nbreaths in his presence, instead of feeling choked and cramped, so they\nwanted to talk with him.\n\nHe would have been glad to gratify them, but his wife's drooping lips\nclosed his own; and after a while both went sadly back to the inn,\nwondering why all the glory was gone from the day.\n\nBut in their room he drew her into his arms, and loved her anew, and\ntalked to her of all the wonderful things that would come to them if they\nwere faithful.\n\n\"Don't you know, sweet Felice,\" he said, \"that love is like the seed in\nthe ground, which comes up a little frail and tender plant; but through\nstorm and sunshine grows into a great tree. We must be patient with\neach other.\"\n\nFelice was of those who want their trees full-grown, and she began to\nwonder why she had married the Golden Archer instead of her own man, whom\nshe could understand; and she wished that she had never climbed to the\ntop of the tower and lost her heart to the Archer.\n\nThe days of their honeymoon dragged, for the Archer in addition to the\nhurt of his love had now to suffer the pain of estrangement. The more he\ncared for Felice the harder it was to see her restless and unhappy. \"It\nwill be different when we are in our own home,\" he would say to himself.\n\nSo one day they left the inn and went to their own cottage which stood on\na little hill, and from the window could be seen the tower of the great\nwhite church. Now the Golden Archer used often to gaze at this tower,\nwhich made Felice ask him if he were homesick.\n\n\"No; but I miss the great winds,\" he replied.\n\n\"Do you know what people say?\" she asked him.\n\n\"What do they say?\"\n\n\"That you were struck by lightning--and all melted away.\"\n\n\"I was struck by lightning,\" he answered. \"Love slew me.\"\n\nThis pleased her. For awhile she showed herself loving and tender, but\nbecause she obeyed moods and not a strong, steadfast will, the old\nunhappiness came back. The Golden Archer felt more lonely than ever he\nhad done on the high white tower, and loneliest of all when he held her\nin his arms.\n\nOne day he found her crying. \"Why do you cry, Beloved?\" he asked her.\n\n\"I am lonely,\" she said.\n\n\"With me?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she sobbed, \"with you. What have you to tell me but your tales of\nthe great winds? Other men have had their friends, their adventures. They\ncan relate stories of their boyhood, of their early life, but you came\nfrom a far-off tower and know nothing of the world.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" he murmured. \"I can only tell you of the skies; for all the\ntime of my former days on earth is dim to me.\"\n\nThat night they sat before the fire, for it was now autumn, and the\nleaping flames showed her gold hair and her eyes like dark pools. Upon\nthe Golden Archer they shone, too, where he sat still and hurt, but\nunable to tell his pain, because he had lived too high above the world.\nThe low, hoarse winds drove the flying leaves against the window glass\nand whistled in the keyhole; at which Felice would shiver and cast\nsidelong glances at her strange husband.\n\nAll at once on the wind came a caroling voice. Felice rushed to the\nwindow and peered out. The voice sang:\n\n\"All that I knew of thee, my Love,\n   The great winds bore away.\n When they are hushed wilt thou return\n  To bless the close of day?\n\n\"In that still hour come back to me,\n  And find thy longed-for rest.\n Poor petal blown too near the sun,\n  Float downward to my breast.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" cried Felice, \"it is my old Love.\"\n\n\"My love for thee is older than the moon,\" said the Golden Archer. \"Can\nyou not rest by our hearth?\"\n\nThen she knelt by him and pressed her face against his knees. And his\nheart grew as heavy as a weary dream before a sultry dawn when the\nthunder hangs in the hills. Her grief weighed all the more upon him\nbecause he knew she was trying to love him; and when that hour of effort\ncomes death is under its cloak.\n\nBut the next day she was cheerful and sang about her tasks. The Golden\nArcher saddled his horse and rode miles through the forest upon the crisp\nred leaves; and he knew that goodness would not hold her, nor kindness,\nnor fidelity, nor service, for love like hers is held prisoner to nothing\nonce its wings are outstretched, nor does it know good from evil.\n\n[Illustration: THE GOLDEN ARCHER AND FELICE]\n\nWhen he rode home the stars were peeping through the forest branches, and\nthe white owls were flying. But the frost that silvered the red leaves\nwas not so sharp and glistening as the memory of her tears.\n\nAs he reached his door he saw that it was open and the light from the\nfire shone out upon the dark paths of the forest. But the room was empty\nof her presence.\n\nHe called her name, but no answer was returned; then on a tablet upon the\ntable he saw words written and brought them to the fire and read them.\n\n\"O Golden Archer, go back to thy tower, for the great winds have taken me\non a long journey, and I shall never see thee again.\"\n\nThen he knew that not his faithful winds, but the voice of old memories\nhad called her, and he bowed his head in an imperishable sorrow.\n\nBecause his heart was broken he desired to cease from his humanity and\nreturn to the old white tower. As once his warm tears had thawed his\nshining armor and made him an inhabitant of the world, so now his cold\nand bitter tears encased him again in hard metal.\n\nWalking wearily and with stiff footsteps he went to the stable, brought\nout his horse and rode across the plain to the great white church upon\nwhich the midnight moon was shining. He knocked on its west door, and\nfrom the vaults came the echoes.\n\n\"You cannot return, Golden Archer, for you have broken your vow!\"\n\n\"But I have broken my heart also,\" he answered; \"therefore, let me in.\"\n\n\"But you will come down again from the tower,\" cried the echoes.\n\n\"Nay, for only the broken-hearted know how to keep their vows,\" he\nanswered.\n\nSo the doors swung open, and up the dim spiral stairs rode the Golden\nArcher, through bars of moonlight to the region of the great winds where\nagain he mounted the tower. But always there is one dream left to the\nsorrowful, and his was, that some night the great winds would drive her\nsoul against his breast.\n\nThen he became very still and turned his arrow northward, for the wind\nwas coming from the far circles of the Arctic ice.\n\nNext day the sun rose red and glorious and made fires on the armor of the\nGolden Archer, and all the people upon the plain rubbed their eyes and\ncried out:\n\n\"There's a new Archer on the Cathedral. Now we shall know from which\nhorizon comes the wind!\"","title":"The Faery Tales of Weir","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":25846}