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diff --git a/34852.txt b/34852.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c506b1b --- /dev/null +++ b/34852.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5459 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Moonshine & Clover, by Laurence Housman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Moonshine & Clover + +Author: Laurence Housman + +Illustrator: Clemence Housman + +Release Date: January 5, 2011 [EBook #34852] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOONSHINE & CLOVER *** + + + + +Produced by Beginners Projects, Suzanne Shell, Emmy and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + +MOONSHINE & CLOVER + + + This selection of fairy-tales is reprinted from + the following original editions, now out of print: + + _A Farm in Fairyland_ (1894) + _The House of Joy_ (1895) + _The Field of Clover_ (1898) + _The Blue Moon_ (1904) + +[Illustration: + + SHINE, MOON! GROW CLOVER! + WHEN MY DAY IS OVER. L.H.] + + + + +[Illustration: MOONSHINE & CLOVER + +BY LAURENCE HOUSMAN + +ENGRAVED BY CLEMENCE HOUSMAN + + NEW YORK + HARCOURT, BRACE & COMPANY] + + + + + _Made and + Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., + London and Aylesbury._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + THE PRINCE WITH THE NINE SORROWS 13 + HOW LITTLE DUKE JARL SAVED THE CASTLE 27 + A CAPFUL OF MOONSHINE 37 + THE STORY OF THE HERONS 47 + THE CROWN'S WARRANTY 70 + ROCKING-HORSE LAND 83 + JAPONEL 95 + GAMMELYN, THE DRESSMAKER 103 + THE FEEDING OF THE EMIGRANTS 113 + WHITE BIRCH 119 + THE LUCK OF THE ROSES 129 + THE WHITE DOE 138 + THE MOON-STROKE 153 + THE GENTLE COCKATRICE 164 + THE GREEN BIRD 177 + THE MAN WHO KILLED THE CUCKOO 187 + A CHINESE FAIRY-TALE 198 + HAPPY RETURNS 211 + + + + +THE PRINCE WITH THE NINE SORROWS + + "Eight white peahens went down to the gate: + 'Wait!' they said, 'little sister, wait!' + They covered her up with feathers so fine; + And none went out, when there went back nine." + + +A LONG time ago there lived a King and a Queen, who had an only son. As +soon as he was born his mother gave him to the forester's wife to be +nursed; for she herself had to wear her crown all day and had no time +for nursing. The forester's wife had just given birth to a little +daughter of her own; but she loved both children equally and nursed them +together like twins. + +One night the Queen had a dream that made the half of her hair turn +grey. She dreamed that she saw the Prince her son at the age of twenty +lying dead with a wound over the place of his heart; and near him his +foster-sister was standing, with a royal crown on her head, and his +heart bleeding between her hands. + +The next morning the Queen sent in great haste for the family Fairy, and +told her of the dream. The Fairy said, "This can have but one meaning, +and it is an evil one. There is some danger that threatens your son's +life in his twentieth year, and his foster-sister is to be the cause of +it; also, it seems she is to make herself Queen. But leave her to me, +and I will avert the evil chance; for the dream coming beforehand shows +that the Fates mean that he should be saved." + +The Queen said, "Do anything; only do not destroy the forester's wife's +child, for, as yet at least, she has done no wrong. Let her only be +carried away to a safe place and made secure and treated well. I will +not have my son's happiness grow out of another one's grave." + +The Fairy said, "Nothing is so safe as a grave when the Fates are about. +Still, I think I can make everything quite safe within reason, and leave +you a clean as well as a quiet conscience." + +The little Prince and the forester's daughter grew up together till they +were a year old; then, one day, when their nurse came to look for them, +the Prince was found, but his foster-sister was lost; and though the +search for her was long, she was never seen again, nor could any trace +of her be found. + +The baby Prince pined and pined, and was so sorrowful over her loss that +they feared for a time that he was going to die. But his foster-mother, +in spite of her grief over her own child's disappearance, nursed him so +well and loved him so much that after a while he recovered his strength. + +Then the forester's wife gave birth to another daughter, as if to +console herself for the loss of the first. But the same night that the +child was born the Queen had just the same dream over again. She dreamed +that she saw her son lying dead at the age of twenty; and there was the +wound in his breast, and the forester's daughter was standing by with +his heart in her hand and a royal crown upon her head. + +The poor Queen's hair had gone quite white when she sent again for the +family Fairy, and told her how the dream had repeated itself. The Fairy +gave her the same advice as before, quieting her fears, and assuring her +that however persistent the Fates might be in threatening the Prince's +life, all in the end should be well. + +Before another year was passed the second of the forester's daughters +had disappeared; and the Prince and his foster-mother cried themselves +ill over a loss that had been so cruelly renewed. The Queen, seeing how +great were the sorrow and the love that the Prince bore for his +foster-sisters, began to doubt in her heart and say, "What have I done? +Have I saved my son's life by taking away his heart?" + +Now every year the same thing took place, the forester's wife giving +birth to a daughter, and the Queen on the same night having the same +fearful dream of the fate that threatened her son in his twentieth year; +and afterwards the family Fairy would come, and then one day the +forester's wife's child would disappear, and be heard of no more. + +At last when nine daughters in all had been born to the forester's wife +and lost to her when they were but a year old, the Queen fell very ill. +Every day she grew weaker and weaker, and the little Prince came and sat +by her, holding her hand and looking at her with a sorrowful face. At +last one night (it was just a year after the last of the forester's +children had disappeared) she woke suddenly, stretching out her arms +and crying. "Oh, Fairy," she cried, "the dream, the dream!" And covering +her face with her hands, she died. + +The little Prince was now more than ten years old, and the very saddest +of mortals. He said that there were nine sorrows hidden in his heart, of +which he could not get rid; and that at night, when all the birds went +home to roost, he heard cries of lamentation and pain; but whether these +came from very far away, or out of his own heart he could not tell. + +Yet he grew slenderly and well, and had such grace and tenderness in his +nature that all who saw him loved him. His foster-mother, when he spoke +to her of his nine sorrows, tried to comfort him, calling him her own +nine joys; and, indeed, he was all the joy left in life for her. + +When the Prince neared his twentieth year, the King his father felt that +he himself was becoming old and weary of life. "I shall not live much +longer," he thought: "very soon my son will be left alone in the world. +It is right, therefore, now that he should know of the danger ahead that +threatens his life." For till then the Prince had not known anything; +all had been kept a secret between the Queen and the King and the family +Fairy. + +The old King knew of the Prince's nine sorrows, and often he tried to +believe that they came by chance, and had nothing to do with the secret +that sat at the root of his son's life. But now he feared more and more +to tell the Prince the story of those nine dreams, lest the knowledge +should indeed serve but as the crowning point of his sorrows, and +altogether break his heart for him. + +Yet there was so much danger in leaving the thing untold that at last he +summoned the Prince to his bedside, meaning to tell him all. The King +had worn himself so ill with anxiety and grief in thinking over the +matter, that now to tell all was the only means of saving his life. + +The Prince came and knelt down, and leaned his head on his father's +pillow; and the King whispered into his ear the story of the dreams, and +of how for his sake all the Prince's foster-sisters had been spirited +away. + +Before his tale was done he could no longer bear to look into his son's +face, but closed his eyes, and, with long silences between, spoke as one +who prayed. + +When he had ended he lay quite still, and the Prince kissed his closed +eyelids and went softly out of the room. + +"Now I know," he said to himself; "now at last!" And he came through the +wood and knocked at his foster-mother's door. "Other mother," he said to +her, "give me a kiss for each of my sisters, for now I am going out into +the world to find them, to be rid of the sorrows in my heart." + +"They can never be found!" she cried, but she kissed him nine times. +"And this," she said, "was Monica, and this was Ponica, and this was +Veronica," and so she went over every name. "But now they are only +names!" she wept, as she let him go. + +He went along, and he went along, mile after mile. "Where may you be +going to, fair sir?" asked an old peasant, at whose cabin the Prince +sought shelter when night came to the first day of his wanderings. +"Truly," answered the Prince, "I do not know how far or whither I need +to go; but I have a finger-post in my heart that keeps pointing me." + +So that night he stayed there, and the next day he went on. + +"Where to so fast?" asked a woodcutter when the second night found him +in the thickest and loneliest parts of the forest. "Here the night is so +dark and the way so dangerous, one like you should not go alone." + +"Nay, I know nothing," said the Prince, "only I feel like a weather-cock +in a wind that keeps turning me to its will!" + +After many days he came to a small long valley rich in woods and +water-courses, but no road ran through it. More and more it seemed like +the world's end, a place unknown, or forgotten of its old inhabitants. +Just at the end of the valley, where the woods opened into clear slopes +and hollows towards the west, he saw before him, low and overgrown, the +walls of a little tumble-down grange. "There," he said to himself when +he saw it, "I can find shelter for to-night. Never have I felt so tired +before, or such a pain at my heart!" + +Before long he came to a little gate, and a winding path that led in +among lawns and trees to the door of an old house. The house seemed as +if it had been once lived in, but there was no sign of any life about +it now. He pushed open the door, and suddenly there was a sharp rustling +of feathers, and nine white peahens rose up from the ground and flew out +of the window into the garden. + +The Prince searched the whole house over, and found it a mere ruin; the +only signs of life to be seen were the white feathers that lifted and +blew about over the floors. + +Outside, the garden was gathering itself together in the dusk, and the +peahens were stepping daintily about the lawns, picking here and there +between the blades of grass. They seemed to suit the gentle sadness of +the place, which had an air of grief that has grown at ease with itself. + +The Prince went out into the garden, and walked about among the quietly +stepping birds; but they took no heed of him. They came picking up their +food between his very feet, as though he were not there. Silence held +all the air, and in the cleft of the valley the day drooped to its end. + +Just before it grew dark, the nine white peahens gathered together at +the foot of a great elm, and lifting up their throats they wailed in +chorus. Their lamentable cry touched the Prince's heart; "Where," he +asked himself, "have I heard such sorrow before?" Then all with one +accord the birds sprang rustling up to the lowest boughs of the elm, and +settled themselves to roost. + +The Prince went back to the house, to find some corner amid its +half-ruined rooms to sleep in. But there the air was close, and an +unpleasant smell of moisture came from the floor and walls: so, the +night being warm, he returned to the garden, and folding himself in his +cloak lay down under the tree where the nine peahens were at roost. + +For a long time he tried to sleep, but could not, there was so much pain +and sorrow in his heart. + +Presently when it was close upon midnight, over his head one of the +birds stirred and ruffled through all its feathers; and he heard a soft +voice say: + +"Sisters, are you awake?" + +All the other peahens lifted their heads, and turned towards the one +that had spoken, saying, "Yes, sister, we are awake." + +Then the first one said again, "Our brother is here." + +They all said, "He is our enemy; it is for him that we endure this +sorrow." + +"To-night," said the first, "we may all be free." + +They answered, "Yes, we may all be free! Who will go down and peck out +his heart? Then we shall be free." + +And the first who had spoken said, "I will go down!" + +"Do not fail, sister!" said all the others. "For if you fail you can +speak to us no more." + +The first peahen answered, "Do not fear that I shall fail!" And she +began stepping down the long boughs of the elm. + +The Prince lying below heard all that was said. "Ah! poor sisters," he +thought, "have I found you at last; and are all these sorrows brought +upon you for me?" And he unloosed his doublet, and opened his vest, +making his breast bare for the peahen to come and peck out his heart. + +He lay quite still with his eyes shut, and when she reached the ground +the peahen found him lying there, as it seemed to her fast asleep, with +his white breast bare for the stroke of her beak. + +Then so fair he looked to her, and so gentle in his youth, that she had +pity on him, and stood weeping by his side, and laying her head against +his, whispered, "O, brother, once we lay as babes together and were +nursed at the same breast! How can I peck out your heart?" + +Then she stole softly back into the tree, and crouched down again by her +companions. They said to her, "Our minute of midnight is nearly gone. Is +there blood on your beak! Have you our brother's heart for us?" But the +other answered never a word. + +In the morning the peahens came rustling down out of the elm, and went +searching for fat carnation buds and anemone seeds among the flower-beds +in the garden. To the Prince they showed no sign either of hatred or +fear, but went to and fro carelessly, pecking at the ground about his +feet. Only one came with drooping head and wings, and sleeked itself to +his caress, and the Prince, stooping down, whispered in her ear, "O, +sister, why did you not peck out my heart?" + +At night, as before, the peahens all cried in chorus as they went up +into the elm; and the Prince came and wrapped himself in his cloak, and +lay down at the foot of it to watch. + +At midnight the eight peahens lifted their heads, and said, "Sister, why +did you fail last night?" But their sister gave them not a word. + +"Alas!" they said, "now she has failed, unless one of us succeed, we +shall never hear her speak with her human voice again. Why is it that +you weep so," they said again, "now when deliverance is so near?" For +the poor peahen was shaken with weeping, and her tears fell down in loud +drops upon the ground. + +Then the next sister said, "I will go down! He is asleep. Be certain, I +will not fail!" So she climbed softly down the tree, and the Prince +opened his shirt and laid his breast bare for her to come and take out +his heart. + +Presently she stood by his side, and when she saw him, she too had pity +on him for the youth and kindness of his face. And once she shut her +eyes, and lifted her head for the stroke; but then weakness seized her, +and she laid her head softly upon his heart and said, "Once the breast +that gave me milk gave milk also to you. You were my sister's brother, +and she spared you. How can I peck out your heart?" And having said this +she went softly back into the tree, and crouched down again among her +sisters. + +They said to her, "Have you blood upon your beak? Is his heart ours?" +But she answered them no word. + +The next day the two sisters, who because their hearts betrayed them had +become mute, followed the Prince wherever he went, and stretched up +their heads to his caress. But the others went and came indifferently, +careless except for food; for until midnight their human hearts were +asleep; only now the two sisters who had given their voices away had +regained their human hearts perpetually. + +That night the same thing happened as before. "Sisters," said the +youngest, "to-night I will go down, since the two eldest of us have +failed. My wrong is fresher in my heart than theirs! Be sure I shall not +fail!" So the youngest peahen came down from the tree, and the Prince +laid his heart bare for her beak; but the bird could not find the will +to peck it out. And so it was the next night, and the next, until eight +nights were gone. + +So at last only one peahen was left. At midnight she raised her head, +saying, "Sisters, are you awake?" + +They all turned, and gazed at her weeping, but could say no word. + +Then she said, "You have all failed, having all tried but me. Now if I +fail we shall remain mute and captive for ever, more undone by the loss +of our last remaining gift of speech than we were at first. But I tell +you, dear sisters, I will not fail; for the happiness of you all lies +with me now!" + +Then she went softly down the tree; and one by one they all went +following her, and weeping, to see what the end would be. + +They stood some way apart, watching with upturned heads, and their poor +throats began catching back a wish to cry as the little peahen, the last +of the sisters, came and stood by the Prince. + +Then she, too, looked in his face, and saw the white breast made bare +for her beak; and the love of him went deep down into her heart. And she +tried and tried to shut her eyes and deal the stroke, but could not. + +She trembled and sighed, and turned to look at her sisters, where they +all stood weeping silently together. "They have spared him," she said +to herself: "why should not I?" + +But the Prince, seeing that she, too, was about to fail like the rest of +them, turned and said, as if in his sleep, "Come, come, little peahen, +and peck out my heart!" + +At that she turned back again to him, and laid her head down upon his +heart and cried more sadly than them all. + +Then he said, "You have eight sisters, and a mother who cries for her +children to return!" Yet still she thought he was dreaming, and speaking +only in his sleep. The other peahens came no nearer, but stood weeping +silently. She looked from him to them. "O," she cried, "I have a wicked +heart, to let one stand in the way of nine!" Then she threw up her neck +and cried lamentably with her peafowl's voice, wishing that the Prince +would wake up and see her, and so escape. And at that all the other +peahens lifted up their heads and wailed with her: but the Prince never +turned, nor lifted a finger, nor uttered a sound. + +Then she drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes fast. "Let my +sisters go, but let me be as I am!" she cried; and with that she stooped +down, and pecked out his heart. + +All her sisters shrieked as their human shapes returned to them. "O, +sister! O, wicked little sister!" they cried, "What have you done?" + +The little white peahen crouched close down to the side of the dead +Prince. "I loved him more than you all!" she tried to say: but she only +lifted her head, and wailed again and again the peafowl's cry. + +The Prince's heart lay beating at her feet, so glad to be rid of its +nine sorrows that mere joy made it live on, though all the rest of the +body lay cold. + +The peahen leaned down upon the Prince's breast, and there wailed +without ceasing: then suddenly, piercing with her beak her own breast, +she drew out her own living heart and laid it in the place where his had +been. + +And, as she did so, the wound where she had pierced him closed and +became healed; and her heart was, as it were, buried in the Prince's +breast. In her death agony she could feel it there, her own heart +leaping within his breast for joy. + +The Prince, who had seemed to be dead, flushed from head to foot as the +warmth of life came back to him; with one deep breath he woke, and found +the little white peahen lying as if dead between his arms. + +Then he laughed softly and rose (his goodness making him wise), and +taking up his own still beating heart he laid it into the place of hers. +At the first beat of it within her breast, the peahen became transformed +as all her sisters had been, and her own human form came back to her. +And the pain and the wound in her breast grew healed together, so that +she stood up alive and well in the Prince's arms. + +"Dear heart!" said he: and "Dear, dear heart!" said she; but whether +they were speaking of their own hearts or of each other's, who can tell? +for which was which they themselves did not know. + +Then all round was so much embracing and happiness that it is out of +reach for tongue or pen to describe. For truly the Prince and his +foster-sisters loved each other well, and could put no bounds upon +their present contentment. As for the Prince and the one who had plucked +out his heart, of no two was the saying ever more truly told that they +had lost their hearts to each other; nor was ever love in the world +known before that carried with it such harmony as theirs. + +And so it all came about according to the Queen's dream, that the +forester's daughter wore the royal crown upon her head, and held the +Prince's heart in her hand. + +Long before he died the old King was made happy because the dream he had +so much feared had become true. And the forester's wife was happy before +she died. And as for the Prince and his wife and his foster-sisters, +they were all rather happy; and none of them is dead yet. + + + + +HOW LITTLE DUKE JARL SAVED THE CASTLE + + +DUKE JARL had found a good roost for himself when his long work of +expelling the invader was ended. Seawards and below the town, in the +mouth of the river, stood a rock, thrusting out like a great tusk ready +to rip up any armed vessel that sought passage that way. On the top of +this he had built himself a castle, and its roots went deep, deep down +into the solid stone. No man knew how deep the deepest of the +foundations went; but wherever they were, just there was old Duke Jarl's +sleeping-chamber. Thither he had gone to sleep when the world no longer +needed him; and he had not yet returned. + +That was three hundred years ago, and still the solid rock vaulted the +old warrior's slumber; and over his head men talked of him, and told how +he was reserving the strength of his old age till his country should +again call for him. + +The call seemed to come now; for his descendant, little Duke Jarl the +Ninth, was but a child; and being in no fear of him, the invader had +returned, and the castle stood besieged. Also, farther than the eye +could see from the topmost tower, the land lay all overrun, its richness +laid waste by armed bands who gathered in its harvest by the sword, and +the town itself lay under tribute; from the tower one could see the busy +quays, and the enemy loading his ships with rich merchandise. + +Sent up there to play in safety, little Duke Jarl could not keep his red +head from peering over the parapet. He began making fierce faces at the +enemy--he was still too young to fight: and quick a grey goose-shaft +came and sang its shrill song at his ear. So close had it gone that a +little of the ducal blood trickled out over his collar. His face worked +with rage; leaning far out over the barrier, he began shouting, "I will +tell Duke Jarl of you!" till an attendant ran up and snatched him away +from danger. + +Things were going badly: the castle was cut off from the land, and on +the seaward side the foe had built themselves a great mole within which +their warships could ride at anchor safe from the reach of storm. Thus +there was no way left by which help or provender could come in. + +Little Duke Jarl saw men round him growing more gaunt and thin day by +day, but he did not understand why, till he chanced once upon a soldier +gnawing a foul bone for the stray bits of meat that clung to it; then he +learned that all in the castle except himself had been put upon +quarter-rations, though every day there was more and more fighting work +to be done. + +So that day when the usual white bread and savouries were brought to +him, he flung them all downstairs, telling the cook that the day he +really became Duke he would have his head off if he ever dared to send +him anything again but the common fare. + +[Illustration] + +Hearing of it, the old Chief Constable picked up little Master Ninth +Duke between finger and thumb, and laughed, holding him in the air. +"With you alive," said he, "we shall not have to wake Duke Jarl after +all!" The little Duke asked when he would let him have a sword; and the +Constable clapped his cheeks and ran back cheerfully at a call from the +palisades. + +But others carried heavy looks, thinking, "Long before his fair promise +can come to anything our larders will be empty and our walls gone!" + +It was no great time after this that the Duke's Constable was the only +man who saw reason in holding out. That became known all through the +castle, and the cook, honest fellow, brought up little Jarl's dinner one +day with tears in his eyes. He set down his load of dainties. "It is no +use!" said he, "you may as well eat to-day, since to-morrow we give up +the castle." + +"Who dares to say 'we'?" cried little Duke Jarl, springing to his feet. + +"All but the Constable," said the cook; "even now they are in the +council-hall, trying to make him see reason. Whether or no, they will +not let him hold on." + +Little Jarl found the doors of the great hall barred to the thunderings +of his small fist: for, in truth, these men could not bear to look upon +one who had in his veins the blood of old Duke Jarl, when they were +about to give up his stronghold to the enemy. + +So little Jarl made his way up to the bowery, where was a minstrel's +window looking down into the hall. Sticking out his head so that he +might see down to where the council was sitting, "If you give up the +castle, I will tell Duke Jarl!" he cried. Hearing his young master's +voice, the Constable raised his eyes; but not able to see him for tears +in them, called out: "Tell him quick, for here it is all against one! +Only for one day more have they promised to follow my bidding, and keep +the carrion crows from coming to Jarl's nest." + +And even as he spoke came the renewed cry of attack, and the answering +shout of "Jarl, Jarl!" from the defenders upon the walls. Then all leapt +up, overturning the council-board, and ran out to the battlements to +carry on with what courage was left to them a hopeless contest for one +more day. + +Little Duke Jarl remained like a beating heart in the great empty keep. +He ran wildly from room to room, calling in rage and desperation on old +Jarl to return and fight. From roof to basement he ran, commanding the +spirit of his ancestor to appear, till at last he found himself in the +deepest cellars of all. Down there he could hear but faintly the sound +of the fighting; yet it seemed to him that through the stone he could +hear the slow booming of the sea, and as he went deeper into the +castle's foundations the louder had grown its note. "Does the sea come +in all the way under the castle?" he wondered. "Oh that it would sap the +foundations and sink castle and all, rather than let them give up old +Jarl's stronghold to his enemies!" + +All was quite dark here, where the castle stood embedded; but now and +then little Duke Jarl could feel a puff of wind on his face, and +presently he was noticing how it came, as if timed to the booming of the +sea underneath: whenever came the sound of a breaking wave, with it came +a draught of air. He wondered if, so low down, there might not be some +secret opening to the shore. + +Groping in the direction of the gusts, his feet came upon stairs. So low +and narrow was the entrance, he had to turn sideways and stoop; but when +he had burrowed through a thickness of wall he was able to stand +upright; and again he found stairs leading somewhere. + +Down, these led down. He had never been so low before. And what a storm +there must be outside! Against these walls the thunders of the sea grew +so loud he could no longer hear the tramp of his own feet descending. + +And now the wind came at him in great gusts; first came the great boom +of the sea, and then a blast of air. The way twisted and circled, making +his head giddy for a fall; his feet slipped on the steepness and slime +of the descent, and at each turn the sound grew more appalling, and the +driving force of the wind more and more like the stroke of a man's fist. + +Presently the shock of it threw him from his standing, so that he had to +lie down and slide feet foremost, clinging with his eyelids and nails to +break the violence of his descent. And now the air was so full of +thunder that his teeth shook in their sockets, and his bones jarred in +his flesh. The darkness growled and roared; the wind kept lifting him +backwards--the force of it seemed almost to flay the skin off his face; +and still he went on, throwing his full weight against the air ahead. + +Then for a moment he felt himself letting go altogether: solid walls +slipping harshly past him in the darkness, he fell; and came headlong, +crashed and bruised, to a standstill. + +At first his brain was all in a mist; then, raising himself, he saw a +dim blue light falling through a low vaulted chamber. At the end of it +sat old Jarl, like adamant in slumber. His head was down on his breast, +buried in a great burning bush of hair and beard; his hands, gripping +the arms of his iron throne, had twisted them like wire; and the weight +of his feet where they rested had hollowed a socket in the stone floor +for them to sink into. + +All his hair and his armour shone with a red-and-blue flame; and the +light of him struck the vaulting and the floor like the rays of a torch +as it burns. Over his head a dark tunnel, bored in the solid rock, +reached up a hollow throat seawards. But not by that way came the wind +and the sound of the sea; it was old Jarl himself, breathing peacefully +in his sleep, waiting for the hour which should call his strength to +life. + +Young Duke Jarl ran swiftly across the chamber, and struck old Jarl's +knees, crying, "Wake, Jarl! or the castle will be taken!" But the +sleeper did not stir. Then he climbed the iron bars of the Duke's chair, +and reaching high, caught hold of the red beard. "Forefather!" he cried, +"wake, or the castle will be betrayed!" + +But still old Duke Jarl snored a drowsy hurricane. + +Then little Jarl sprang upon his knee, and seizing him by the head, +pulled to move its dead weight, and finding he could not, struck him +full on the mouth, crying, "Jarl, Jarl, old thunderbolt! wake, or you +will betray the castle!" + +At that old Jarl hitched himself in his seat, and "Humph!" cried he, +drawing in a deep breath. + +In rushed the wind whistling from the sea, and all down the way by which +little Duke Jarl had come; like the wings of cranes flying homewards in +spring, so it whistled when old Jarl drew in his breath. + +Off his knee dropped little Ninth Jarl, buffeted speechless to earth. +And old Jarl, letting go a breath, settled himself back to slumber. + +Far up overhead, at the darkening-in of night, the besiegers saw the +eyes of the castle flash red for an instant, and shut again; then they +heard the castle-rock bray out like a great trumpet, and they trembled, +crying, "That is old Jarl's warhorn; he is awake out of slumber!" + +They had reason enough to fear; for suddenly upon their ships-of-war +there crashed, as though out of the bowels of the earth, wind and a +black sandblast; and coming, it took the reefed sails and rigging, and +snapped the masts and broke every vessel from its moorings, and drove +all to wreck and ruin against the great mole that had been built to +shelter them. + +And away inland, beyond the palisades and under the entrenched camp of +the besiegers, the ground pitched and rocked, so that every tent fell +grovelling; and whenever the ground gaped, captains and men-at-arms were +swallowed down in detachments. + +Hardly had the call of old Jarl's warhorn ceased, before the Constable +commanded the castle gates to be thrown open, and out he came leading a +gaunt and hungry band of Jarl-folk warriors; for over in the enemy's +camp they had scent of a hot supper which must be cooked and eaten +before dawn. And in a little while, when the cooking was at its height, +young Duke Jarl stuck his red head out over the battlements, and +laughed. + +So this has told how old Duke Jarl once turned and talked in his sleep; +but to tell of the real awakening of old Jarl would be quite another +story. + + + + +A CAPFUL OF MOONSHINE + + +ON the top of Drundle Head, away to the right, where the foot-track +crossed, it was known that the fairies still came and danced by night. +But though Toonie went that way every evening on his road home from +work, never once had he been able to spy them. + +So one day he said to the old faggot-maker, "How is it that one gets to +see a fairy?" The old man answered, "There are some to whom it comes by +nature; but for others three things are needed--a handful of courage, a +mouthful of silence, and a capful of moonshine. But if you would be +trying it, take care that you don't go wrong once too often; for with +the third time you will fall into the hands of the fairies and be their +bondsman. But if you manage to see the fairies, you may ask whatever you +like of them." + +Toonie believed in himself so much that the very next night he took his +courage in both hands, filled his cap with moonshine, shut his mouth, +and set out. + +Just after he had started he passed, as he thought, a priest riding by +on a mule. "Good evening to you, Toonie," called the priest. + +"Good evening, your reverence," cried Toonie, and flourished off his +cap, so that out fell his capful of moonshine. And though he went on all +the way up over the top of Drundle Head, never a fairy did he spy; for +he forgot that, in passing what he supposed to be the priest, he had let +go both his mouthful of silence and his capful of moonshine. + +The next night, when he was coming to the ascent of the hill, he saw a +little elderly man wandering uncertainly over the ground ahead of him; +and he too seemed to have his hands full of courage and his cap full of +moonshine. As Toonie drew near, the other turned about and said to him, +"Can you tell me, neighbour, if this be the way to the fairies?" + +"Why, you fool," cried Toonie, "a moment ago it was! But now you have +gone and let go your mouthful of silence!" + +"To be sure, to be sure--so I have!" answered the old man sadly; and +turning about, he disappeared among the bushes. + +As for Toonie, he went on right over the top of Drundle Head, keeping +his eyes well to the right; but never a fairy did he see. For he too had +on the way let go his mouthful of silence. + +Toonie, when his second failure came home to him, was quite vexed with +himself for his folly and mismanagement. So that it should not happen +again, he got his wife to tie on his cap of moonshine so firmly that it +could not come off, and to gag up his mouth so that no word could come +out of it. And once more taking his courage in both hands, he set out. + +For a long way he went and nothing happened, so he was in good hopes of +getting the desire of his eyes before the night was over; and, clenching +his fists tight upon his courage, he pressed on. + +He had nearly reached to the top of Drundle Head, when up from the +ground sprang the same little elderly man of the evening before, and +began beating him across the face with a hazel wand. And at that Toonie +threw up both hands and let go his courage, and turned and tried to run +down the hill. + +When her husband did not return, Toonie's wife became a kind of a widow. +People were very kind to her, and told her that Toonie was not +dead--that he had only fallen into the hands of the good-folk; but all +day long she sat and cried, "I fastened on his cap of moonshine, and I +tied up his tongue; and for all that he has gone away and left me!" And +so she cried until her child was born and named little Toonie in memory +of his lost father. + +After a while people, looking at him, began to shake their heads; for as +he grew older it became apparent that his tongue was tied, seeing that +he remained quite dumb in spite of all that was done to teach him; and +his head was full of moonshine, so that he could understand nothing +clearly by day--only as night came on his wits gathered, and he seemed +to find a meaning for things. And some said it was his mother's fault, +and some that it was his father's, and some that he was a changeling +sent by the fairies, and that the real child had been taken to share his +father's bondage. But which of these things was true Little Toonie +himself had no idea. + +After a time Little Toonie began to grow big, as is the way with +children, and at last he became bigger than ever old Toonie had been. +But folk still called him Little Toonie, because his head was so full of +moonshine; and his mother, finding he was no good to her, sold him to +the farmer, by whom, since he had no wits for anything better, he was +set to pull at waggon and plough just as if he were a cart-horse; and, +indeed, he was almost as strong as one. To make him work, carter and +ploughman used to crack their whips over his back; and Little Toonie +took it as the most natural thing in the world, because his brain was +full of moonshine, so that he understood nothing clearly by day. + +But at night he would lie in his stable among the horses, and wonder +about the moonlight that stretched wide over all the world and lay free +on the bare tops of the hills; and he thought--would it not be good to +be there all alone, with the moonbeams laying their white hands down on +his head? And so it came that one night, finding the door of his stable +unlocked, he ran out into the open world a free man. + +A soft wind breathed at large, and swung slowly in the black-silver +treetops. Over them Little Toonie could see the quiet slopes of Drundle +Head, asleep in the moonlight. + +Before long, following the lead of his eyes, he had come to the bottom +of the ascent. There before him went walking a little shrivelled elderly +man, looking to right and left as if uncertain of the road. + +As Little Toonie drew near, the other one turned and spoke. "Can you +tell me," said he, "if this be the way to the fairies?" + +Little Toonie had no tongue to give an answer; so, looking at his +questioner, he wagged his head and went on. + +Quickening his pace, the old man came alongside and began peering; then +he smiled to himself, and after a bit spoke out. "So you have lost your +cap, neighbour? Then you will never be able to find the fairies." For he +did not know that Little Toonie, who wore no cap on his head, carried +his capful of moonshine safe underneath his skull, where it had been +since the hour of his birth. + +The little elderly man slipped from his side, disappearing suddenly +among the bushes, and Toonie went on alone. So presently he was more +than half way up the ascent, and could see along the foot-track of the +thicket the silver moonlight lying out over the open ahead. + +He had nearly reached to the top of the hill, when up from the ground +sprang the little elderly man, and began beating him across the face +with a hazel wand. Toonie thought surely this must be some carter or +ploughman beating him to make him go faster; so he made haste to get on +and be rid of the blows. + +Then, all of a sudden, the little elderly man threw away his hazel +stick, and fell down, clutching at Little Toonie's ankles, whining and +praying him not to go on. + +"Now that I have failed to keep you from coming," he cried, "my masters +will put me to death for it! I am a dead man, I tell you, if you go +another step!" + +Toonie could not understand what the old fellow meant, and he could not +speak to him. But the poor creature clung to his feet, holding them to +prevent him from taking another step; so Toonie just stooped down, and +(for he was so little and light) picked him up by the scruff, and by the +slack of his breeches, so that his arms and legs trailed together along +the ground. + +In the open moonlight ahead little people were all agog; bright dewdrops +were shivering down like rain, where flying feet alighted--shot from +bent grass-blades like arrows from a drawn bow. Tight, panting little +bodies, of which one could count the ribs, and faces flushed with fiery +green blood, sprang everywhere. But at Toonie's coming one cried up +shriller than a bat; and at once rippling burrows went this way and that +in the long grass, and stillness followed after. + +The poor, dangling old man, whom Toonie was still carrying, wriggled and +whined miserably, crying, "Come back, masters, for it is no use--this +one sees you! He has got past me and all my poor skill to stop him. Set +me free, for you see I am too old to keep the door for you any longer!" + +Out buzzed the fairies, hot and angry as a swarm of bees. They came and +fastened upon the unhappy old man, and began pulling him. "To the +ant-hills!" they cried; "off with him to the ant-hills!" But when they +found that Toonie still held him, quickly they all let go. + +One fairy, standing out from the rest, pulled off his cap and bowed low. +"What is your will, master mortal?" he inquired; "for until you have +taken your wish and gone, we are all slaves at your bidding." + +[Illustration] + +They all cringed round him, the cruel little people; but he answered +nothing. The moonbeams came thick, laying their slender white palms +graciously upon Toonie's head; and he, looking up, opened his mouth for +a laugh that gave no sound. + +"Ah, so! That is why--he is a mute!" cried the fairies. + +Quickly one dipped his cap along the grass and brought it filled with +dew. He sprang up, and poured it upon Toonie's tongue; and as the fairy +dew touched it, "Now speak!" they all cried in chorus, and fawned and +cringed, waiting for him to give them the word. + +Cudgelling his brain for what it all meant, he said, "Tell me first what +wish I may have." + +"Whatever you like to ask," said they, "for you have become one of our +free men. Tell us your name?" + +"I am called Little Toonie," said he, "the son of old Toonie that was +lost." + +"Why, as I live and remember," cried the little elderly man, "old Toonie +was me!" Then he threw himself grovelling at his son's feet, and began +crying: "Oh, be quick and take me away! Make them give me up to you: ask +to have me! I am your poor, loving old father whom you never saw; all +these years have I been looking and longing for you! Now take me away, +for they are a proud, cruel people, as spiteful as they are small; and +my back has been broken twenty years in their bondage." + +The fairies began to look blue, for they hate nothing so much as to give +up one whom they have once held captive. "We can give you gold," said +they, "or precious stones, or the root of long living, or the waters of +happiness, or the sap of youth, or the seed of plenty, or the blossom +of beauty. Choose any of these, and we can give it you." + +The old man again caught hold of his son's feet. "Don't choose these," +he whimpered, "choose me!" + +So because he had a capful of moonshine in his head, and because the +moonbeams were laying their white hands on his hair, he chose the weak, +shrivelled old man, who crouched and clung to him, imploring not to be +let go. + +The fairies, for spite and anger, bestowed every one a parting pinch on +their tumbledown old bondsman; then they handed him to his son, and +swung back with careless light hearts to their revels. + +As father and son went down the hill together, the old man whistled and +piped like a bird. "Why, why!" he said, "you are a lad of strength and +inches: with you to work and look after me, I can keep on to a merry old +age! Ay, ay, I have had long to wait for it; but wisdom is justified in +her children." + + + + +THE STORY OF THE HERONS + + +A LONG time ago there lived a King and a Queen who loved each other +dearly. They had both fallen in love at first sight; and as their love +began so it went on through all their life. Yet this, which was the +cause of all their happiness, was the cause also of all their +misfortunes. + +In his youth, when he was a beautiful young bachelor, the King had had +the ill-luck to attract the heart of a jealous and powerful Fairy; and +though he never gave her the least hope or encouragement, when she heard +that his love had been won at first sight by a mere mortal, her rage and +resentment knew no bounds. She said nothing, however, but bided her +time. + +After they had been married a year the Queen presented her husband with +a little daughter; before she was yet a day old she was the most +beautiful object in the world, and life seemed to promise her nothing +but fortune and happiness. + +The family Fairy came to the blessing of the new-born; and she, looking +at it as it lay beautifully asleep in its cradle, and seeing that it had +already as much beauty and health as the heart could desire, promised it +love as the next best gift it was within her power to offer. The Queen, +who knew how much happiness her own love had brought her, was kissing +the good Fairy with all the warmth of gratitude, when a black kite came +and perched upon the window-sill crying: "And I will give her love at +first sight! The first living thing that she sets eyes on she shall love +to distraction, whether it be man or monster, prince or pauper, bird, +beast or reptile." And as the wicked Fairy spoke she clapped her wings, +and up through the boards of the floor, and out from under the bed, and +in through the window, came a crowd of all the ugliest shapes in the +world. Thick and fast they came, gathering about the cradle and lifting +their heads over the edge of it, waiting for the poor little Princess to +wake up and fall in love at first sight with one of them. + +Luckily the child was asleep; and the good Fairy, after driving away the +black kite and the crowd of beasts it had called to its aid, wrapped the +Princess up in a shawl and carried her away to a dark room where no +glimmer of light could get in. + +She said to the Queen: "Till I can devise a better way, you must keep +her in the dark; and when you take her into the open air you must +blindfold her eyes. Some day, when she is of a fit age, I will bring a +handsome Prince for her; and only to him shall you unblindfold her at +last, and make love safe for her." + +She went, leaving the King and Queen deeply stricken with grief over the +harm which had befallen their daughter. They did not dare to present +even themselves before her eyes lest love for them, fatal and consuming, +should drive her to distraction. In utter darkness the Queen would sit +and cherish her daughter, clasping her to her breast, and calling her by +all sweet names; but the little face, except by stealth when it was +sound asleep, she never dared to see, nor did the baby-Princess know the +face of the mother who loved her. + +By and by, however, the family Fairy came again, saying: "Now, I have a +plan by which your child may enjoy the delights of seeing, and no ill +come of it." And she caused to be made a large chamber, the whole of one +side of which was a mirror. High up in the opposite wall were windows so +screened that from below no one could look out of them, but across on to +the mirror came all the sweet sights of the world, glimpses of wood and +field, and the sun and the moon and the stars, and of every bird as it +flew by. So the little Princess was brought and set in a screened place +looking towards the mirror, and there her eyes learned gradually all the +beautiful things of the world. Over the screen, in the glass before her, +she learned to know her mother's face, and to love it dearly in a gentle +child-like fashion; and when she could talk she became very wise, +understanding all that was told her about the danger of looking at +anything alive, except by its reflection in the glass. + +When she went out into the open air for her health, she always wore a +bandage over her eyes, lest she should look, and love something too +well: but in the chamber of the mirror her eyes were free to see +whatever they could. The good Fairy, making herself invisible, came and +taught her to read and make music, and draw; so that before she was +fifteen she was the most charming and accomplished, as well as the most +beautiful Princess of her day. + +At last the Fairy said that the time was come for her world of +reflections to be made real, and she went away to fetch the ideal Prince +that the Princess might at first sight fall in love with him. + +The very day after she was gone, as the morning was fine, the Princess +went out with one of her maids for a wait through the woods. Over her +patient eyes she wore a bandage of green silk, through which she felt +the sunlight fall pleasantly. + +Out of doors the Princess knew most things by their sounds. She passed +under rustling leaves, and along by the side of running water; and at +last she heard the silence of the water, and knew that she was standing +by the great fish-pond in the middle of the wood. Then she said to her +waiting-woman, "Is there not some great bird fishing out there, for I +hear the dipping of his bill, and the water falling off it as he draws +out the fish?" + +And just as she was saying that, the wicked Fairy, who had long bided +her time, coming softly up from behind, pushed the waiting-woman off the +bank into the deep water of the pond. Then she snatched away the silk +bandage, and before the Princess had time to think or close her eyes, +she had lost her heart to a great heron that was standing half-way up to +his feathers fishing among the reeds. + +The Princess, with her eyes set free, laughed for joy at the sight of +him. She stretched out her arms from the bank and cried most musically +for the bird to come to her; and he came in grave, stately fashion, with +trailing legs, and slow sobbing creak of his wings, and settled down on +the bank beside her. She drew his slender neck against her white +throat, and laughed and cried with her arms round him, loving him so +that she forgot all in the world beside. And the heron looked gravely at +her with kind eyes, and, bird-like, gave her all the love he could, but +not more; and so, presently, casting his grey wings abroad, lifted +himself and sailed slowly back to his fishing among the reeds. + +The waiting-woman had got herself out of the water, and stood wringing +her clothes and her hands beside the Princess. "O, sweet mistress," she +cried, with lamentation, "now is all the evil come about which it was +our whole aim to avoid! And what, and what will the Queen your mother +say?" + +But the Princess answered, smiling, "Foolish girl, I had no thought of +what happiness meant till now! See you where my love is gone? and did +you notice the bend of his neck, and the exceeding length of his legs, +and the stretch of his grey wings as he flew? This pond is his hall of +mirrors, wherein he sees the reflection of all his world. Surely I, from +my hall of mirrors, am the true mate for him!" + +Her maid, seeing how far the evil had gone, and that no worse could now +happen, ran back to the palace and curdled all the court's blood with +her news. The King and the Queen and all their nobility rushed down, and +there they found the Princess with the heron once more in her arms, +kissing and fondling it with all the marks of a sweet and maidenly +passion. "Dear mother," she said, as soon as she saw the Queen, "the +happiness, which you feared would be sorrow, has come; and it is such +happiness I have no name for it! And the evil that you so dreaded, see +how sweet it is! And how sweet it is to see all the world with my own +eyes and you also at last!" And for the first time in her life she +kissed her mother's face in the full light of day. + +But her mother hung sobbing upon her neck, "O, my darling, my +beautiful," she wept, "does your heart belong for ever to this grey +bird?" + +Her daughter answered, "He is more than all the world to me! Is he not +goodly to look upon? Have you considered the bend of his neck, the +length of his legs, and the waving of his wings; his skill also when he +fishes: what imagination, what presence of mind!" + +"Alas, alas," sorrowed the Queen, "dear daughter, is this all true to +you?" + +"Mother," cried the Princess, clinging to her with entreaty, "is all the +world blind but me?" + +The heron had become quite fond of the Princess; wherever she went it +followed her, and, indeed, without it nowhere would she go. Whenever it +was near her, the Princess laughed and sang, and when it was out of her +sight she became sad as night. All the courtiers wept to see her in such +bondage. "Ah," said she, "your eyes have been worn out with looking at +things so long; mine have been kept for me in a mirror." + +When the good family Fairy came (for she was at once sent for by the +Queen, and told of all that had happened), she said, "Dear Madam, there +are but two things you can do: either you can wring the heron's neck, +and leave the Princess to die of grief; or you can make the Princess +happy in her own way, by----" Her voice dropped, and she looked from +the King to the Queen before she went on. "At her birth I gave your +daughter love for my gift; now it is hers, will you let her keep it?" + +The King and the Queen looked softly at each other. "Do not take love +from her," said they, "let her keep it!" + +"There is but one way," answered the Fairy. + +"Do not tell me the way," said the Queen weeping, "only let the way be!" + +So they went with the Fairy down to the great pond, and there sat the +Princess, with the grey heron against her heart. She smiled as she saw +them come. "I see good in your hearts towards me!" she cried. "Dear +godmother, give me the thing that I want, that my love may be happy!" + +Then the Fairy stroked her but once with her wand, and two grey herons +suddenly rose up from the bank, and sailed away to a hiding-place in the +reeds. + +The Fairy said to the Queen, "You have made your daughter happy; and +still she will have her voice and her human heart, and will remember you +with love and gratitude; but her greatest love will be to the grey +heron, and her home among the reeds." + +So the changed life of the Princess began; every day her mother went +down to the pool and called, and the Princess came rising up out of the +reeds, and folded her grey wings over her mother's heart. Every day her +mother said, "Daughter of mine, are you happy?" + +And the Princess answered her, "Yes, for I love and am loved." + +Yet each time the mother heard more and more of a note of sadness come +into her daughter's voice; and at last one day she said, "Answer me +truly, as the mother who brought you into the world, whether you be +happy in your heart of hearts or no?" + +Then the heron-Princess laid her head on the Queen's heart, and said, +"Mother, my heart is breaking with love!" + +"For whom, then?" asked the Queen astonished. + +"For my grey heron, whom I love, and who loves me so much. And yet it is +love that divides us, for I am still troubled with a human heart, and +often it aches with sorrow because all the love in it can never be fully +understood or shared by my heron; and I have my human voice left, and +that gives me a hundred things to say all day, for which there is no +word in heron's language, and so he cannot understand them. Therefore +these things only make a gulf between him and me. For all the other grey +herons in the pools there is happiness, but not for me who have too big +a heart between my wings." + +Her mother said softly, "Wait, wait, little heron-daughter, and it shall +be well with you!" Then she went to the Fairy and said, "My daughter's +heart is lonely among the reeds, for the grey heron's love covers but +half of it. Give her some companions of her own kind that her hours may +become merry again!" + +So the Fairy took and turned five of the Princess's ladies'-maids into +herons, and sent them down to the pool. + +The five herons stood each on one leg in the shallows of the pool, and +cried all day long; and their tears fell down into the water and +frightened away the fish that came their way. For they had human hearts +that cried out to be let go. "O, cruel, cruel," they wept, whenever the +heron-Princess approached, "see what we suffer because of you, and what +they have made of us for your sake!" + +The Princess came to her mother and said, "Dear mother, take them away, +for their cry wearies me, and the pool is bitter with their tears! They +only awake the human part of my heart that wants to sleep; presently, +maybe, if it is let alone, it will forget itself." + +Her mother said, "It is my coming every day also that keeps it awake." +The Princess answered, "This sorrow belongs to my birthright; you must +still come; but for the others, let the Fairy take them away." + +So the Fairy came and released the five ladies'-maids whom she had +changed into herons. And they came up out of the water, stripping +themselves of their grey feather-skins and throwing them back into the +pool. The Fairy said, "You foolish maids, you have thrown away a gift +that you should have valued; these skins you could have kept and held as +heirlooms in your family." + +The five maids answered, "We want to forget that there are such things +as herons in the world!" + +After much thought the Queen said to the Fairy, "You have changed a +Princess into a heron, and five maids into herons and back again; cannot +you change one heron into a Prince?" But the Fairy answered sadly, "Our +power has limits; we can bring down, but we cannot bring up, if there be +no heart to answer our call. The five maids only followed their hearts, +that were human, when I called them back; but a heron has only a +heron's heart, and unless his heart become too great for a bird and he +earn a human one, I cannot change him to a higher form." "How can he +earn a human one?" asked the Queen. "Only if he love the Princess so +well that his love for her becomes stronger than his life," answered the +Fairy. "Then he will have earned a human body, and then I can give him +the form that his heart suits best. There may be a chance, if we wait +for it and are patient, for the Princess's love is great and may work +miracles." + +A little while after this, the Queen watching, saw that the two herons +were making a nest among the reeds. "What have you there?" said the +mother to her daughter. "A little hollow place," answered the +heron-Princess, "and in it the moon lies." A little while after she said +again, "What have you there, now, little daughter?" And her daughter +answered, "Only a small hollow space; but in it two moons lie." + +The Queen told the family Fairy how in a hollow of the reeds lay two +moons. "Now," said the Fairy, "we will wait no longer. If your +daughter's love has touched the heron's heart and made it grow larger +than a bird's, I can help them both to happiness; but if not, then birds +they must still remain." + +Among the reeds the heron said in bird language to his wife, "Go and +stretch your wings for a little while over the water; it is weary work +to wait here so long in the reeds." The heron-Princess looked at him +with her bird's eyes, and all the human love in her heart strove, like a +fountain that could not get free, to make itself known through them; +also her tongue was full of the longing to utter sweet words, but she +kept them back, knowing they were beyond the heron's power to +understand. So she answered merely in heron's language, "Come with me, +and I will come!" + +They rose, wing beating beside wing; and the reflection of their grey +breasts slid out under them over the face of the water. + +Higher they went and higher, passing over the tree tops, and keeping +time together as they flew. All at once the wings of the grey heron +flagged, then took a deep beat; he cried to the heron-Princess, "Turn, +and come home, yonder there is danger flying to meet us!" Before them +hung a brown blot in the air, that winged and grew large. The two herons +turned and flew back. "Rise," cried the grey heron, "we must rise!" and +the Princess knew what was behind, and struggled with the whole strength +of her wings for escape. + +The grey heron was bearing ahead on stronger wing. "With me, with me!" +he cried. "If it gets above us, one of us is dead!" But the falcon had +fixed his eye on the Princess for his quarry, and flew she fast, or flew +she slow, there was little chance for her now. Up and up she strained, +but still she was behind her mate, and still the falcon gained. + +The heron swung back to her side; she saw the anguish and fear of his +downward glance as his head ranged by hers. Past her the falcon went, +towering for the final swoop. + +The Princess cried in heron's language, "Farewell, dear mate, and +farewell, two little moons among the reeds!" But the grey heron only +kept closer to her side. + +Overhead the falcon closed in its wings and fell like a dead weight out +of the clouds. "Drop!" cried the grey heron to his mate. + +At his word she dropped; but he stayed, stretching up his wings, and, +passing between the descending falcon and its prey, caught in his own +body the death-blow from its beak. Drops of his blood fell upon the +heron-Princess. + +He stricken in body, she in soul, together they fell down to the margin +of the pool. The falcon still clung fleshing its beak in the neck of its +prey. The heron-Princess threw back her head, and, darting furiously, +struck her own sharp bill deep into the falcon's breast. The bird threw +out its wings with a hoarse cry and fell back dead, with a little tuft +of the grey heron's feathers still upon its beak. + +The heron-Princess crouched down, and covered with her wings the dying +form of her mate; in her sorrow she spoke to him in her own tongue, +forgetting her bird's language. The grey heron lifted his head, and, +gazing tenderly, answered her with a human voice: + +"Dear wife," he said, "at last I have the happiness so long denied to me +of giving utterance in the speech that is your own to the love that you +have put into my heart. Often I have heard you speak and have not +understood; now something has touched my heart, and changed it, so that +I can both speak and understand." + +"O, beloved!" She laid her head down by his. "The ends of the world +belong to us now. Lie down, and die gently by my side, and I will die +with you, breaking my heart with happiness." + +"No," said the grey heron, "do not die yet! Remember the two little +moons that lie in the hollow among the reeds." Then he laid his head +down by hers, being too weak to say more. + +They folded their wings over each other, and closed their eyes; nor did +they know that the Fairy was standing by them, till she stroked them +both softly with her wand, saying to each of them the same words: + +"Human heart, and human form, come out of the grey heron!" + +And out of the grey heron-skins came two human forms; the one was the +Princess restored again to her own shape, but the other was a beautiful +youth, with a bird-like look about the eyes, and long slender limbs. The +Princess, as she gazed on him, found hardly any change, for love +remained the same, binding him close to her heart; and, grey heron or +beautiful youth, he was all one to her now. + +Then came the Queen, weeping for joy, and embracing them both, and after +them, the Fairy. "O, how good an ending," she cried, "has come to that +terrible dream! Let it never be remembered or mentioned between us +more!" And she began to lead the way back to the palace. + +But the youth, to whom the Fairy gave the name of Prince Heron, turned +and took up the two heron-skins which he and his wife had let fall, and +followed, carrying them upon his arm. And as they came past the bed of +reeds, the Princess went aside, and, stooping down in a certain place +drew out from thence something which she came carrying, softly wrapped +in the folds of her gown. + +With what rejoicing the Princess and her husband were welcomed by the +King and all the Court needs not to be told. For a whole month the +festivities continued; and whenever she showed herself, there was the +Princess sitting with two eggs in her lap, and her hands over them to +keep them warm. The King was impatient. "Why cannot you send them down +to the poultry yard to be hatched?" he said. + +But the Princess replied smiling, "My moons are my own, and I will keep +them to myself." + +"Do you hear?" she said one day, at last; and everybody who listened +could hear something going "tap, tap," inside the shells. Presently the +eggs cracked, and out of each, at the same moment, came a little grey +heron. + +When she saw that they were herons, the Queen wrung her hands. "O +Fairy," she cried, "what a disappointment is this! I had hoped two +beautiful babies would have come out of those shells." + +But the Fairy said, "It is no matter. Half of their hearts are human +already; birds' hearts do not beat so. If you wish it, I can change +them." So she stroked them softly with her wand, saying to each, "Human +heart, and human form, come out of the grey heron!" + +Yet she had to stroke them three times before they would turn; and she +said to the Princess, "My dear, you were too satisfied with your lot +when you laid your moon-children. I doubt if more than a quarter of them +is human." + +"I was very satisfied," said the Princess, and she laughed across to her +husband. + +At last, however, on the third stroke of the wand, the heron's skins +dropped off, and they changed into a pair of very small babies, a boy +and a girl. But the difference between them and other children was, that +instead of hair, their heads were covered with a fluff of downy grey +feathers; also they had queer, round, bird-like eyes, and were able to +sleep standing. + +Now, after this the happiness of the Princess was great; but the Fairy +said to her, "Do not let your husband see the heron-skins again for some +while, lest with the memory a longing for his old life should return to +him and take him away from you. Only by exchange with another can he +ever get back his human form again, if he surrenders it of his own free +will. And who is there so poor that he would willingly give up his human +form to become a bird?" + +So the Princess took the four coats of feathers--her own and her +husband's and her two children's--and hid them away in a closet of which +she alone kept the key. It was a little gold key, and to make it safe +she hung it about her neck, and wore it night and day. + +The Prince said to her, "What is that little key that you wear always +hung round your neck?" + +She answered him, "It is the key to your happiness and mine. Do not ask +more than that!" At that there was a look in his face that made her +say, "You _are_ happy, are you not?" + +He kissed her, saying, "Happy, indeed! Have I not you to make me so?" +Yet though, indeed, he told no untruth, and was happy whenever she was +with him, there were times when a restlessness and a longing for wings +took hold of him; for, as yet, the life of a man was new and half +strange to him, and a taint of his old life still mixed itself with his +blood. But to her he was ashamed to say what might seem a complaint +against his great fortune; so when she said "happiness," he thought, "Is +it just the turning of that key that I want before my happiness can be +perfect?" + +Therefore, one night when the early season of spring made his longing +strong in him, he took the key from the Princess while she slept, and +opened the little closet in which hung the four feather coats. And when +he saw his own, all at once he remembered the great pools of water, and +how they lay in the shine and shadow of the moonlight, while the fish +rose in rings upon their surface. And at that so great a longing came +into him to revisit his old haunts that he reached out his hand and took +down the heron-skin from its nail and put it over himself; so that +immediately his old life took hold of him, and he flew out of the window +in the form of a grey heron. + +In the morning the Princess found the key gone from her neck, and her +husband's place empty. She went in haste to the closet, and there stood +the door wide with the key in it, and only three heron-skins hanging +where four had used to be. + +Then she came crying to the family Fairy, "My husband has taken his +heron-skin and is gone! Tell me what I can do!" + +The Fairy pitied her with all her heart, but could do nothing. "Only by +exchange," said she, "can he get back his human shape; and who is there +so poor that he would willingly lose his own form to become a bird? Only +your children, who are but half human, can put their heron-skins on and +off as they like and when they like." + +In deep grief the Princess went to look for her husband down by the +pools in the wood. But now his shame and sorrow at having deceived her +were so great that as soon as he heard her voice he hid himself among +the reeds, for he knew now that, having put on his heron-skin again, he +could not take it off unless some one gave him a human form in exchange. + +At last, however, so pitiful was the cry of the Princess for him, that +he could bear to hear it no more; but rising up from the reeds came +trailing to her sadly over the water. "Ah, dear love!" she said when he +was come to her, "if I had not distrusted you, you would not have +deceived me: thus, for my fault we are punished." So she sorrowed, and +he answered her: + +"Nay, dear love, for if I had not deceived you, you would not have +distrusted me. I thought I was not happy, yet I feared to tell it you." +Thus they sorrowed together, both laying on themselves the blame and the +burden. + +Then she said to him: "Be here for me to-night, for now I must go; but +then I shall return." + +She went back to the palace, and told her mother of all that had +happened. "And now," she said, "you who know where my happiness lies +will not forbid me from following it; for my heart is again with the +grey heron." And the Queen wept, but would not say her no. + +So that night the Princess went and kissed her children as they slept +standing up in their beds, with their funny feather-pates to one side; +and then she took down her skin of feathers and put it on, and became +changed once more into a grey heron. And again she went up to the two in +their cots, and kissed their birdish heads saying: "They who can change +at will, being but half human, they will come and visit us in the great +pool by the wood, and bring back word of us here." + +In the morning the Princess was gone, and the two children when they +woke looked at each other and said: "Did we dream last night?" + +They both answered each other, "Yes, first we dreamed that our mother +came and kissed us; and we liked that. And then we dreamed that a grey +heron came and kissed us, and we liked that better still!" They waved +their arms up and down. "Why have we not wings?" they kept asking. All +day long they did this, playing that they were birds. If a window were +opened, it was with the greatest difficulty that they were kept from +trying to fly through. + +In the Court they were known as the "Feather-pates"; nothing could they +be taught at all. When they were rebuked they would stand on one leg and +sigh with their heads on one side; but no one ever saw tears come out +of their birdish eyes. + +Now at night they would dream that two grey herons came and stood by +their bedsides, kissing them; "And where in the world," they said when +they woke, "_are_ our wings?" + +One day, wandering about in the palace, they came upon the closet in +which hung the two little feather coats. "O!!!" they cried, and opened +hard bright eyes at each other, nodding, for now they knew what they +would do. "If we told, they would be taken from us," they said; and they +waited till it was night. Then they crept back and took the two little +coats from their pegs, and, putting them on, were turned into two young +herons. + +Through the window they flew, away down to the great fish-pond in the +wood. Their father and mother saw them coming, and clapped their wings +for joy. "See," they said, "our children come to visit us, and our +hearts are left to us to love with. What further happiness can we want?" +But when they were not looking at each other they sighed. + +All night long the two young herons stayed with their parents; they +bathed, and fished, and flew, till they were weary. Then the Princess +showed them the nest among the reeds, and told them all the story of +their lives. + +"But it is much nicer to be herons than to be real people," said the +young ones, sadly, and became very sorrowful when dawn drew on, and +their mother told them to go back to the palace and hang up the feather +coats again, and be as they had been the day before. + +Long, long the day now seemed to them; they hardly waited till it was +night before they took down their feather-skins, and, putting them on, +flew out and away to the fish-pond in the wood. + +So every night they went, when all in the palace were asleep; and in the +morning came back before anyone was astir, and were found by their +nurses lying demurely between the sheets, just as they had been left the +night before. + +One day the Queen when she went to see her daughter said to her, "My +child, your two children are growing less like human beings and more +like birds every day. Nothing will they learn or do, but stand all day +flapping their arms up and down, and saying, 'Where are our wings, where +are our wings?' The idea of one of them ever coming to the throne makes +your father's hair stand on end under his crown." + +"Oh, mother," said the heron-Princess, "I have made a sad bed for you +and my father to lie on!" + +One day the two children said to each other, "Our father and mother are +sad, because they want to be real persons again, instead of having wings +and catching fish the way we like to do. Let us give up being real +persons, which is all so much trouble, and such a want of exercise, and +make them exchange with us!" But when the two young herons went down to +the pond and proposed it to them, their parents said, "You are young; +you do not know what you would be giving up." Nor would they consent to +it at all. + +Now one morning it happened that the Feather-pates were so late in +returning to the palace that the Queen, coming into their chamber, +found the two beds empty; and just as she had turned away to search for +them elsewhere, she heard a noise of wings and saw the two young herons +come flying in through the window. Then she saw them take off their +feather-skins and hang them up in the closet, and after that go and lie +down in their beds so as to look as if they had been there all night. + +The Queen struck her hands together with horror at the sight, but she +crept away softly, so that they did not know they had been found out. +But as soon as they were out of their beds and at play in another part +of the palace, the Queen went to the closet, and setting fire to the two +heron-skins where they hung, burnt them till not a feather of them was +left, and only a heap of grey ashes remained to tell what had become of +them. + +At night, when the Feather-pates went to the closet and found their +skins gone, and saw what had become of them, their grief knew no bounds. +They trembled with fear and rage, and tears rained out of their eyes as +they beheld themselves deprived of their bird bodies and made into real +persons for good and all. + +"We won't be real persons!" they cried. But for all their crying they +knew no way out of it. They made themselves quite ill with grief; and +that night, for the first time since they had found their way to the +closet, they stayed where their nurses had put them, and did not even +stand up in their beds to go to sleep. There they lay with gasping +mouth, and big bird-like eyes all languid with grief, and hollow grey +cheeks. + +Presently their father and mother came seeking for them, wondering why +they had not come down to the fish-pond as they were wont. "Where are +you, my children?" cried the heron-Princess, putting her head in through +the window. + +"Here we are, both at death's door!" they cried. "Come and see us die! +Our wicked grandam has burnt our feather-skins and made us into real +persons for ever and ever, Amen. But we will die rather!" + +The parent herons, when they heard that, flew in through the window and +bent down over the little ones' beds. + +The two children reached up their arms. "Give us your feathers!" they +cried. "We shall die if you don't! We _will_ die if you don't! O, do!" +But still the parent birds hesitated, nor knew what to do. + +"Bend down, and let me whisper something!" said the boy to his father: +and "Bend down, and whisper!" cried the girl to her mother. And father +and mother bent down over the faces of their sick children. Then these, +both together, caught hold of them, and crying, "Human heart, and human +form, exchange with the grey heron!" pulled off their parents' +feather-skins, and put them upon themselves. + +And there once more stood Prince Heron and the Princess in human shape, +while the two children had turned into herons in their place. + +The young herons laughed and shouted and clapped their wings for joy. +"Are you not happy now?" cried they. And when their parents saw the joy, +not only in their children's eyes, but in each other's, and felt their +hearts growing glad in the bodies they had regained, then they owned +that the Feather-pates had been wise in their generation, and done well +according to their lights. + +So it came about that the Prince and the Princess lived happily ever +after, and the two young herons lived happily also, and were the +best-hearted birds the world ever saw. + +In course of time the Prince and Princess had other children, who +pleased the old King better than the first had done. But the parents +loved none better than the two who lived as herons by the great +fish-pond in the wood; nor could there be greater love than was found +between these and their younger brothers and sisters, whose nature it +was to be real persons. + + + + +THE CROWN'S WARRANTY + + +FIVE hundred years ago or more, a king died, leaving two sons: one was +the child of his first wife, and the other of his second, who surviving +him became his widow. When the king was dying he took off the royal +crown which he wore, and set it upon the head of the elder born, the son +of his first wife, and said to him: "God is the lord of the air, and of +the water, and of the dry land: this gift cometh to thee from God. Be +merciful, over whatsoever thou holdest power, as God is!" And saying +these words he laid his hands upon the heads of his two sons and died. + +Now this crown was no ordinary crown, for it was made of the gold +brought by the Wise Men of the East when they came to worship at +Bethlehem. Every king that had worn it since then had reigned well and +uprightly, and had been loved by all his people; but only to himself was +it known what virtue lay in his crown; and every king at dying gave it +to his son with the same words of blessing. + +So, now, the king's eldest son wore the crown; and his step-mother knew +that her own son could not wear it while he lived, therefore she looked +on and said nothing. Now he was known to all the people of his country, +because of his right to the throne, as the king's son; and his brother, +the child of the second wife, was called the queen's son. But as yet +they were both young, and cared little enough for crowns. + +After the king's death the queen was made regent till the king's son +should be come to a full age; but already the little king wore the royal +crown his father had left him, and the queen looked on and said nothing. + +More than three years went by, and everybody said how good the queen was +to the little king who was not her own son; and the king's son, for his +part, was good to her and to his step-brother, loving them both; and all +by himself he kept thinking, having his thoughts guarded and circled by +his golden crown, "How shall I learn to be a wise king, and to be +merciful when I have power, as God is?" + +So to everything that came his way, to his playthings and his pets, to +his ministers and his servants, he played the king as though already his +word made life and death. People watching him said, "Everything that has +touch with the king's son loves him." They told strange tales of him: +only in fairy books could they be believed, because they were so +beautiful; and all the time the queen, getting a good name for herself, +looked on and said nothing. + +One night the king's son was lying half-asleep upon his bed, with wise +dreams coming and going under the circle of his gold crown, when a mouse +ran out of the wainscot and came and jumped up upon the couch. The poor +mouse had turned quite white with fear and horror, and was trembling in +every limb as it cried its news into the king's ear. "O king's son," it +said, "get up and run for your life! I was behind the wainscot in the +queen's closet, and this is what I heard: if you stay here, when you +wake up to-morrow you will be dead!" + +The king's son got up, and all alone in the dark night stole out of the +palace, seeking safety for his dear life. He sighed to himself, "There +was a pain in my crown ever since I wore it. Alas, mother, I thought you +were too kind a step-mother to do this!" + +Outside it was still winter: there was no warmth in the world, and not a +leaf upon the trees. He wandered away and away, wondering where he +should hide. + +The queen, when her villains came and told her the king's son was not to +be found, went and looked in her magic crystal to find trace of him. As +soon as it grew light, for in the darkness the crystal could show her +nothing, she saw many miles away the king's son running to hide himself +in the forest. So she sent out her villains to search until they should +find him. + +As they went the sun grew hot in the sky, and birds began singing. "It +is spring!" cried the messengers. "How suddenly it has come!" They rode +on till they came to the forest. + +The king's son, stumbling along through the forest under the bare +boughs, thought, "Even here where shall I hide? Nowhere is there a leaf +to cover me." But when the sun grew warm he looked up; and there were +all the trees breaking into bud and leaf, making a green heaven above +his head. So when he was too weary to go farther, he climbed into the +largest tree he could find; and the leaves covered him. + +[Illustration] + +The queen's messengers searched through all the forest but could not +find him; so they went back to her empty handed, not having either +the king's crown or his heart to show. "Fools!" she cried, looking in +her magic crystal, "he was in the big sycamore under which you stopped +to give your horses provender!" + +The sycamore said to the king's son, "The queen's eye is on you; get +down and run for your life till you get to the hollow tarn-stones among +the hills! But if you stay here, when you wake to-morrow you will be +dead." + +When the queen's messengers came once more to the forest they found it +all wintry again, and without leaf; only the sycamore was in full green, +clapping its hands for joy in the keen and bitter air. + +The messengers searched, and beat down the leaves, but the king's son +was not there. They went back to the queen. She looked long in her magic +crystal, but little could she see; for the king's son had hidden himself +in a small cave beside the tarn-stones, and into the darkness the +crystal could not pry. + +Presently she saw a flight of birds crossing the blue, and every bird +carried a few crumbs of bread in its beak. Then she ran and called to +her villains, "Follow the birds, and they will take you to where the +little wizard is; for they are carrying bread to feed him, and they are +all heading for the tarn-stones up on the hills." + +The birds said to the king's son, "Now you are rested; we have fed you, +and you are not hungry. The queen's eye is on you. Up, and run for your +life! If you stay here, when you wake up to-morrow you will be dead." + +"Where shall I go?" said the king's son. "Go," answered the birds, "and +hide in the rushes on the island of the pool of sweet waters!" + +When the queen's messengers came to the tarn-stones, it was as though +five thousand people had been feeding: they found crumbs enough to fill +twelve baskets full, lying in the cave; but no king's son could they lay +their hands on. + +The king's son was lying hidden among the rushes on the island of the +great pool of sweet waters; and thick and fast came silver-scaled +fishes, feeding him. + +It took the queen three days of hard gazing in her crystal, before she +found how the fishes all swam to a point among the rushes of the island +in the pool of sweet waters, and away again. Then she knew: and running +to her messengers she cried: "He is among the rushes on the island in +the pool of sweet waters; and all the fishes are feeding him!" + +The fishes said to the king's son: "The queen's eye is on you; up, and +swim to shore, and away for your life! For if they come and find you +here, when you wake to-morrow you will certainly be dead." + +"Where shall I go?" asked the king's son. "Wherever I go, she finds me." +"Go to the old fox who gets his poultry from the palace, and ask him to +hide you in his burrow!" + +When the queen's messengers came to the pool they found the fishes +playing at _alibis_ all about in the water; but nothing of the king's +son could they see. + +The king's son came to the fox, and the fox hid him in his burrow, and +brought him butter and eggs from the royal dairy. This was better fare +than the king's son had had since the beginning of his wanderings, and +he thanked the fox warmly for his friendship. "On the contrary," said +the fox, "I am under an obligation to you; for ever since you came to be +my guest I have felt like an honest man." "If I live to be king," said +the king's son, "you shall always have butter and eggs from the royal +dairy, and be as honest as you like." + +The queen hugged her magic crystal for a whole week, but could make +nothing out of it: for her crystal showed her nothing of the king's +son's hiding-place, nor of the fox at his nightly thefts of butter and +eggs from the royal dairy. But it so happened that this same fox was a +sort of half-brother of the queen's; and so guilty did he feel with his +brand-new good conscience that he quite left off going to see her. So in +a little while the queen, with her suspicions and her magic crystal, had +nosed out the young king's hiding-place. + +The fox said to the king's son: "The queen's eye is on you! Get out and +run for your life, for if you stay here till to-morrow, you will wake up +and find yourself a dead goose!" + +"But where else can I go to?" asked the king's son. "Is there any place +left for me?" The fox laughed, and winked, and whispered a word; and all +at once the king's son got up and went. + +The queen had said to her messengers, "Go and look in the fox's hole; +and you shall find him!" But the messengers came and dug up the burrow, +and found butter and eggs from the royal dairy, but of the king's son +never a sign. + +The king's son came to the palace, and as he crept through the gardens +he found there his little brother alone at play,--playing sadly because +now he was all alone. Then the king's son stopped and said, "Little +brother, do you so much wish to be king?" And taking off the crown, he +put it upon his brother's head. Then he went on through underground ways +and corridors, till he came to the palace dungeons. + +Now a dungeon is a hard thing to get out of, but it is easy enough to +get into. He came to the deepest and darkest dungeon of all, and there +he opened the door, and went in and hid himself. + +The queen's son came running to his mother, wearing the king's crown. +"Oh, mother," he said, "I am frightened! while I was playing, my brother +came looking all dead and white, and put this crown on my head. Take it +off for me, it hurts!" + +When the queen saw the crown on her son's head, she was horribly afraid; +for that it should have so come there was the most unlikely thing of +all. She fetched her crystal ball, and looked in, asking where the +king's son might be, and, for answer, the crystal became black as night. + +Then said the queen to herself, "He is dead at last!" + +But, now that the king's crown was on the wrong head, the air, and the +water, and the dry land, over which God is lord, heard of it. And the +trees said, "Until the king's son returns, we will not put forth bud or +leaf!" + +And the birds said, "We will not sing in the land, or breed or build +nests until the king's son returns!" + +And the fishes said, "We will not stay in the ponds or rivers to get +caught, unless the king's son, to whom we belong, returns!" + +And the foxes said, "Unless the king's son returns, we will increase and +multiply exceedingly and be like locusts in the land!" + +So all through that land the trees, though it was spring, stayed as if +it were mid-winter; and all the fishes swam down to the sea; and all the +birds flew over the sea, away into other countries; and all the foxes +increased and multiplied, and became like locusts in the land. + +Now when the trees, and the birds, and the beasts, and the fishes led +the way the good folk of the country discovered that the queen was a +criminal. So, after the way of the flesh, they took the queen and her +little son, and bound them, and threw them into the deepest and darkest +dungeon they could find; and said they: "Until you tell us where the +king's son is, there you stay and starve!" + +The king's son was playing all alone in his dungeon with the mice who +brought him food from the palace larder, when the queen and her son were +thrown down to him fast bound, as though he were as dangerous as a den +of lions. At first he was terribly afraid when he found himself pursued +into his last hiding-place; but presently he gathered from the queen's +remarks that she was quite powerless to do him harm. + +"Oh, what a wicked woman I am!" she moaned; and began crying lamentably, +as if she hoped to melt the stone walls which formed her prison. + +Presently her little son cried, "Mother, take off my brother's crown; it +pricks me!" And the king's son sat in his corner, and cried to himself +with grief over the harm that his step-mother's wickedness had brought +about. + +"Mother," cried the queen's son again, "night and day since I have worn +it, it pricks me; I cannot sleep!" + +But the queen's heart was still hard; not if she could help, would she +yet take off from her son the crown. + +Hours went by, and the queen and her son grew hungry. "We shall be +starved to death!" she cried. "Now I see what a wicked woman I am!" + +"Mother," cried the queen's son, "someone is putting food into my +mouth!" "No one," said the queen, "is putting any into mine. Now I know +what a wicked woman I am!" + +Presently the king's son came to the queen also, and began feeding her. +"Someone is putting food into _my_ mouth, now!" cried the queen. "If it +is poisoned I shall die in agony! I wish," she said, "I wish I knew your +brother were not dead; if I have killed him what a wicked woman I am!" + +"Dear step-mother," said the king's son, "I am not dead, I am here." + +"Here?" cried the queen, shaking with fright. "Here? not dead! How long +have you been here?" + +"Days, and days, and days," said the king's son, sadly. + +"Ah! if I had only known _that_!" cried the queen. "_Now_ I know what a +wicked woman I am!" + +Just then, the trap-door in the roof of the dungeon opened, and a voice +called down, "Tell us where is the king's son! If you do not tell us, +you shall stay here and starve." + +"The king's son is here!" cried the queen. + +"A likely story!" answered the gaolers. "Do you think we are going to +believe that?" And they shut-to the trap. + +The queen's son cried, "Dear brother, come and take back your crown, it +pricks so!" But the king's son only undid the queen's bonds and his +brother's. "Now," said he, "you are free: you can kill me now." + +"Oh!" cried the queen, "what a wicked woman I must be! Do you think I +could do it now?" Then she cried, "O little son, bring your poor head to +me, and I will take off the crown!" and she took off the crown and gave +it back to the king's son. "When I am dead," she said, "remember, and be +kind to him!" + +The king's son put the crown upon his own head. + +Suddenly, outside the palace, all the land broke into leaf; there was a +rushing sound in the river of fishes swimming up from the sea, and all +the air was loud and dark with flights of returning birds. Almost at the +same moment the foxes began to disappear and diminish, and cease to be +like locusts in the land. + +People came running to open the door of the deepest and darkest dungeon +in the palace: "For either," they cried, "the queen is dead, or the +king's son has been found!" + +"Where is the king's son, then?" they called out, as they threw wide the +door. "He is here!" cried the king; and out he came, to the astonishment +of all, wearing his crown, and leading his step-mother and half-brother +by the hand. + +He looked at his step-mother, and she was quite white; as white as the +mouse that had jumped upon the king's bed at midnight bidding him fly +for his life. Not only her face, but her hair, her lips, and her very +eyes were white and colourless, for she had gone blind from gazing too +hard into her crystal ball, and hunting the king's son to death. + +So she remained blind to the end of her days; but the king was more good +to her than gold, and as for his brother, never did half-brothers love +each other better than these. Therefore they all lived very happily +together, and after a long time, the queen learned to forget what a +wicked woman she had been. + + + + +ROCKING-HORSE LAND + + +LITTLE Prince Freedling woke up with a jump, and sprang out of bed into +the sunshine. He was five years old that morning, by all the clocks and +calendars in the kingdom; and the day was going to be beautiful. Every +golden minute was precious. He was dressed and out of his room before +the attendants knew that he was awake. + +In the ante-chamber stood piles on piles of glittering presents; when he +walked among them they came up to the measure of his waist. His fairy +godmother had sent him a toy with the most humorous effect. It was +labelled, "Break me and I shall turn into something else." So every time +he broke it he got a new toy more beautiful than the last. It began by +being a hoop, and from that it ran on, while the Prince broke it +incessantly for the space of one hour, during which it became by turn--a +top, a Noah's ark, a skipping-rope, a man-of-war, a box of bricks, a +picture puzzle, a pair of stilts, a drum, a trumpet, a kaleidoscope, a +steam-engine, and nine hundred and fifty other things exactly. Then he +began to grow discontented, because it would never turn into the same +thing again; and after having broken the man-of-war he wanted to get it +back again. Also he wanted to see if the steam-engine would go inside +the Noah's ark; but the toy would never be two things at the same time +either. This was very unsatisfactory. He thought his fairy godmother +ought to have sent him two toys, out of which he could make +combinations. + +At last he broke it once more, and it turned into a kite; and while he +was flying the kite he broke the string, and the kite went sailing away +up into nasty blue sky, and was never heard of again. + +Then Prince Freedling sat down and howled at his fairy-godmother; what a +dissembling lot fairy-godmothers were, to be sure! They were always +setting traps to make their god-children unhappy. Nevertheless, when +told to, he took up his pen and wrote her a nice little note, full of +bad spelling and tarradiddles, to say what a happy birthday he was +spending in breaking up the beautiful toy she had sent him. + +Then he went to look at the rest of the presents, and found it quite +refreshing to break a few that did not send him giddy by turning into +anything else. + +Suddenly his eyes became fixed with delight; alone, right at the end of +the room, stood a great black rocking-horse. The saddle and bridle were +hung with tiny gold bells and balls of coral; and the horse's tail and +mane flowed till they almost touched the ground. + +The Prince scampered across the room, and threw his arms around the +beautiful creature's neck. All its bells jangled as the head swayed +gracefully down; and the prince kissed it between the eyes. Great eyes +they were, the colour of fire, so wonderfully bright, it seemed they +must be really alive, only they did not move, but gazed continually +with a set stare at the tapestry-hung wall, on which were figures of +armed knights riding to battle. + +So Prince Freedling mounted to the back of his rocking-horse; and all +day long he rode and shouted to the figures of the armed knights, +challenging them to fight, or leading them against the enemy. + +At length, when it came to be bedtime, weary of so much glory, he was +lifted down from the saddle and carried away to bed. + +In his sleep Freedling still felt his black rocking-horse swinging to +and fro under him, and heard the melodious chime of its bells, and, in +the land of dreams, saw a great country open before him, full of the +sound of the battle-cry and the hunting-horn calling him to strange +perils and triumphs. + +In the middle of the night he grew softly awake, and his heart was full +of love for his black rocking-horse. He crept gently out of bed: he +would go and look at it where it was standing so grand and still in the +next room, to make sure that it was all safe and not afraid of being by +itself in the dark night. Parting the door-hangings he passed through +into the wide hollow chamber beyond, all littered about with toys. + +The moon was shining in through the window, making a square cistern of +light upon the floor. And then, all at once, he saw that the +rocking-horse had moved from the place where he had left it! It had +crossed the room, and was standing close to the window, with its head +toward the night, as though watching the movement of the clouds and the +trees swaying in the wind. + +The Prince could not understand how it had been moved so; he was a +little bit afraid, and stealing timidly across, he took hold of the +bridle to comfort himself with the jangle of its bells. As he came +close, and looked up into the dark solemn face he saw that the eyes were +full of tears, and reaching up felt one fall warm against his hand. + +"Why do you weep, my Beautiful?" said the Prince. + +The rocking-horse answered, "I weep because I am a prisoner, and not +free. Open the window, Master, and let me go!" + +"But if I let you go I shall lose you," said the Prince. "Cannot you be +happy here with me?" + +"Let me go," said the horse, "for my brothers call me out of +Rocking-Horse Land; I hear my mare whinnying to her foals; and they all +cry, seeking me through the ups and hollows of my native fastnesses! +Sweet Master, let me go this night, and I will return to you when it is +day!" + +Then Freedling said, "How shall I know that you will return: and what +name shall I call you by?" + +And the rocking-horse answered, "My name is Rollonde. Search my mane +till you find in it a white hair; draw it out and wind it upon one of +your fingers; and so long as you have it so wound you are my master; +and wherever I am I must return at your bidding." + +So the Prince drew down the rocking-horse's head, and searching the +mane, he found the white hair, and wound it upon his finger and tied it. +Then he kissed Rollonde between the eyes, saying, "Go, Rollonde, since I +love you, and wish you to be happy; only return to me when it is day!" +And so saying, he threw open the window to the stir of the night. + +Then the rocking-horse lifted his dark head and neighed aloud for joy, +and swaying forward with a mighty circling motion rose full into the +air, and sprang out into the free world before him. + +Freedling watched how with plunge and curve he went over the bowed +trees; and again he neighed into the darkness of the night, then swifter +than wind disappeared in the distance. And faintly from far away came a +sound of the neighing of many horses answering him. + +Then the Prince closed the window and crept back to bed; and all night +long he dreamed strange dreams of Rocking-Horse Land. There he saw +smooth hills and valleys that rose and sank without a stone or a tree to +disturb the steel-like polish of their surface, slippery as glass, and +driven over by a strong wind; and over them, with a sound like the +humming of bees, flew the rocking-horses. Up and down, up and down, with +bright manes streaming like coloured fires, and feet motionless behind +and before, went the swift pendulum of their flight. Their long bodies +bowed and rose; their heads worked to give impetus to their going; they +cried, neighing to each other over hill and valley, "Which of us shall +be first? which of us shall be first?" After them the mares with their +tall foals came spinning to watch, crying also among themselves, "Ah! +which shall be first?" + +"Rollonde, Rollonde is first!" shouted the Prince, clapping his hands as +they reached the goal; and at that, all at once, he woke and saw it was +broad day. Then he ran and threw open the window, and holding out the +finger that carried the white hair, cried, "Rollonde, Rollonde, come +back, Rollonde!" + +Far away he heard an answering sound; and in another moment there came +the great rocking-horse himself, dipping and dancing over the hills. He +crossed the woods and cleared the palace-wall at a bound, and floating +in through the window, dropped to rest at Prince Freedling's side, +rocking gently to and fro as though panting from the strain of his long +flight. + +"Now are you happy?" asked the Prince as he caressed him. + +"Ah! sweet Prince," said Rollonde, "ah, kind Master!" And then he said +no more, but became the still stock staring rocking-horse of the day +before, with fixed eyes and rigid limbs, which could do nothing but rock +up and down with a jangling of sweet bells so long as the Prince rode +him. + +[Illustration] + +That night Freedling came again when all was still in the palace; and +now as before Rollonde had moved from his place and was standing with +his head against the window waiting to be let out. "Ah, dear Master," +he said, so soon as he saw the Prince coming, "let me go this night +also, and surely I will return with day." + +So again the Prince opened the window, and watched him disappear, and +heard from far away the neighing of the horses in Rocking-Horse Land +calling to him. And in the morning with the white hair round his finger +he called "Rollonde, Rollonde!" and Rollonde neighed and came back to +him, dipping and dancing over the hills. + +Now this same thing happened every night; and every morning the horse +kissed Freedling, saying, "Ah! dear Prince and kind Master," and became +stock still once more. + +So a year went by, till one morning Freedling woke up to find it was his +sixth birthday. And as six is to five, so were the presents he received +on his sixth birthday for magnificence and multitude to the presents he +had received the year before. His fairy godmother had sent him a bird, a +real live bird; but when he pulled its tail it became a lizard, and when +he pulled the lizard's tail it became a mouse, and when he pulled the +mouse's tail it became a cat. Then he did very much want to see if the +cat would eat the mouse, and not being able to have them both he got +rather vexed with his fairy godmother. However, he pulled the cat's tail +and the cat became a dog, and when he pulled the dog's the dog became a +goat; and so it went on till he got to a cow. And he pulled the cow's +tail and it became a camel, and he pulled the camel's tail and it became +an elephant, and still not being contented, he pulled the elephant's +tail and it became a guinea-pig. Now a guinea-pig has no tail to pull, +so it remained a guinea-pig, while Prince Freedling sat down and howled +at his fairy godmother. + +But the best of all his presents was the one given to him by the King +his father. It was a most beautiful horse, for, said the King, "You are +now old enough to learn to ride." + +So Freedling was put upon the horse's back, and from having ridden so +long upon his rocking-horse he learned to ride perfectly in a single +day, and was declared by all the courtiers to be the most perfect +equestrian that was ever seen. + +Now these praises and the pleasure of riding a real horse so occupied +his thoughts that that night he forgot all about Rollonde, and falling +fast asleep dreamed of nothing but real horses and horsemen going to +battle. And so it was the next night too. + +But the night after that, just as he was falling asleep, he heard +someone sobbing by his bed, and a voice saying, "Ah! dear Prince and +kind Master, let me go, for my heart breaks for a sight of my native +land." And there stood his poor rocking-horse Rollonde, with tears +falling out of his beautiful eyes on to the white coverlet. + +Then the Prince, full of shame at having forgotten his friend, sprang up +and threw his arms round his neck saying, "Be of good cheer, Rollonde, +for now surely I will let thee go!" and he ran to the window and opened +it for the horse to go through. "Ah, dear Prince and kind Master!" said +Rollonde. Then he lifted his head and neighed so that the whole palace +shook, and swaying forward till his head almost touched the ground he +sprang out into the night and away towards Rocking-Horse Land. + +Then Prince Freedling, standing by the window, thoughtfully unloosed the +white hair from his finger, and let it float away into the darkness, out +of sight of his eye or reach of his hand. + +"Good-bye, Rollonde," he murmured softly, "brave Rollonde, my own good +Rollonde! Go and be happy in your own land, since I, your Master, was +forgetting to be kind to you." And far away he heard the neighing of +horses in Rocking-Horse Land. + +Many years after, when Freedling had become King in his father's stead, +the fifth birthday of the Prince his son came to be celebrated; and +there on the morning of the day, among all the presents that covered the +floor of the chamber, stood a beautiful foal rocking-horse, black, with +deep-burning eyes. + +No one knew how it had come there, or whose present it was, till the +King himself came to look at it. And when he saw it so like the old +Rollonde he had loved as a boy, he smiled, and, stroking its dark mane, +said softly in its ear, "Art thou, then, the son of Rollonde?" And the +foal answered him, "Ah, dear Prince and kind Master!" but never a word +more. + +Then the King took the little Prince his son, and told him the story of +Rollonde as I have told it here; and at the end he went and searched in +the foal's mane till he found one white hair, and, drawing it out, he +wound it about the little Prince's finger, bidding him guard it well and +be ever a kind master to Rollonde's son. + +So here is my story of Rollonde come to a good ending. + + + + +JAPONEL + + +THERE was once upon a time a young girl named Japonel, the daughter of a +wood-cutter, and of all things that lived by the woodside, she was the +most fair. + +Her hair in its net was like a snared sunbeam, and her face like a +spring over which roses leaned down and birds hung fluttering to +drink--such being the in-dwelling presence of her eyes and her laughing +lips and her cheeks. + +Whenever she crossed the threshold of her home, the birds and the +flowers began calling to her, "Look up, Japonel! Look down, Japonel!" +for the sight of the sweet face they loved so much. The squirrel called +over its bough, "Look up, Japonel!" and the rabbit from between the +roots, "Japonel, look down!" And Japonel, as she went, looked up and +looked down, and laughed, thinking what a sweet-sounding place the world +was. + +Her mother, looking at her from day to day, became afraid: she said to +the wood-cutter, "Our child is too fair; she will get no good of it." + +But her husband answered, "Good wife, why should it trouble you? What is +there in these quiet parts that can harm her? Keep her only from the +pond in the wood, lest the pond-witch see her and become envious." + +"Do not go near water, or you may fall in!" said her mother one day as +she saw Japonel bending down to look at her face in a rain-puddle by +the road. + +Japonel laughed softly. "O silly little mother, how can I fall into a +puddle that is not large enough for my two feet to stand in?" + +But the mother thought to herself, when Japonel grows older and finds +the pond in the wood, she will go there to look at her face, unless she +has something better to see it in at home. So from the next pedlar who +came that way she bought a little mirror and gave it to Japonel, that in +it she might see her face with its spring-like beauty, and so have no +cause to go near the pond in the wood. The lovely girl, who had never +seen a mirror in her life, took the rounded glass in her hand and gazed +for a long time without speaking, wondering more and more at her own +loveliness. Then she went softly away with it into her own chamber, and +wishing to find a name for a thing she loved so much, she called it, +"Stream's eye," and hung it on the wall beside her bed. + +In the days that followed, the door of her chamber would be often shut, +and her face seldom seen save of herself alone. And "Look up, Japonel! +Look down, Japonel!" was a sound she no longer cared to hear as she went +through the woods; for the memory of "Stream's eye" was like a dream +that clung to her, and floated in soft ripples on her face. + +She grew tall like an aspen, and more fair, but pale. Her mother said, +"Woe is me, for now I have made her vain through showing her her great +beauty." And to Japonel herself she said, "Oh, my beautiful, my bright +darling, though I have made thee vain, I pray thee to punish me not. Do +not go near the pond in the wood to look in it, or an evil thing will +happen to thee." And Japonel smiled dreamily amid half-thoughts, and +kissing her mother, "Dear mother," she said, "does 'Stream's eye' tell +me everything of my beauty, or am I in other eyes still fairer?" Then +her mother answered sadly, "Nay, but I trust the open Eye of God finds +in thee a better beauty than thy mirror can tell thee of." + +Japonel, when she heard that answer, went away till she came to the pond +in the wood. It lay down in a deep hollow, and drank light out of a +clear sky, which, through a circle of dark boughs, ever looked down on +it. "Perhaps," she said to herself, "it is here that God will open His +Eye and show me how much fairer I am than even 'Stream's eye' can tell +me." But she thought once of her mother's words, and went by. + +Then she turned again, "It is only that my mother fears lest I become +vain. What harm can come if I do look once? it will be in my way home." +So she crept nearer and nearer to the pond, saying to herself, "To see +myself once as fair as God sees me cannot be wrong. Surely that will not +make me more vain." And when she came through the last trees, and stood +near the brink, she saw before her a little old woman, dressed in green, +kneeling by the water and looking in. + +"There at least," she said to herself, "is one who looks in without any +harm happening to her. I wonder what it is she sees that she stays there +so still." And coming a little nearer, "Good dame," called Japonel, +"what is it you have found there, that you gaze at so hard?" And the +old woman, without moving or looking up, answered, "My own face; but a +hundred times younger and fairer, as it was in my youth." + +Then thought Japonel, "How should I look now, who am fair and in the +full bloom of my youth? It is because my mother fears lest I shall +become vain that she warned me." So she came quickly and knelt down by +the old woman and looked in. And even as she caught sight of her face +gazing up, pale and tremulous ("Quick, go away!" its lips seemed to be +saying), the old woman slid down from the bank and caught hold of her +reflection with green, weed-like arms, and drew it away into the pool's +still depths below. Beneath Japonel's face lay nothing now but blank +dark water, and far away in, a faint face gazed back beseeching, and its +lips moved with an imprisoned prayer that might not make itself heard. +Only three bubbles rose to the surface, and broke into three separate +sighs like the shadow of her own name. Then the pond-witch stirred the +mud, and all trace of that lost image went out, and Japonel was left +alone. + +She rose, expecting to see nothing, to be blind; but the woods were +there, night shadows were gathering to their tryst under the boughs, and +brighter stars had begun blotting the semi-brightness of the sky. All +the way home she went feebly, not yet resolved of the evil that had come +upon her. She stole quietly to her own little room in the fading light, +and took down "Stream's eye" from the wall. Then she fell forward upon +the bed, for all the surface of her glass was grown blank: never could +she hope to look upon her own face again. + +The next morning she hung her head low, for she feared all her beauty +was flown from her, till she heard her father say, "Wife, each day it +seems to me our Japonel grows more fair." And her mother answered, +sighing, "She is too fair, I know." + +Then Japonel set out once more for the pond in the wood. As she went the +birds and the flowers sang to her, "Look up, Japonel; look down, +Japonel!" but Japonel went on, giving them no heed. She came to the +water's side, and leaning over, saw far down in a tangle of green weeds +a face that looked back to hers, faint and blurred by the shimmering +movement of the water. Then, weeping, she wrung her hands and cried: + + "Ah! sweet face of Japonel, + Beauty and grace of Japonel, + Image and eyes of Japonel, + 'Come back!' sighs Japonel." + +And bubble by bubble a faint answer was returned that broke like a sob +on the water's surface: + + "I am the face of Japonel, + The beauty and grace of Japonel; + Here under a spell, Japonel, + I dwell, Japonel." + +All day Japonel cried so, and was so answered. Now and again, green +weeds would come skimming to the surface, and seem to listen to her +reproach, and then once more sink down to their bed in the pond's +depths, and lie almost still, waving long slimy fingers through the mud. + +The next day Japonel came again, and cried as before: + + "Ah! sweet face of Japonel, + Beauty and grace of Japonel, + Image and eyes of Japonel, + 'Come back!' cries Japonel." + +And her shadow in the water made answer: + + "I am the face of Japonel, + The beauty and grace of Japonel; + Here under a spell, Japonel, + I dwell, Japonel." + +Now as she sat and sorrowed she noticed that whenever a bird flew over +the pond it dropped something out of its mouth into the water, and +looking she saw millet-seeds lying everywhere among the weeds of its +surface; one by one they were being sucked under by the pond-witch. + +Japonel stayed so long by the side of the pond, that on her way home it +had fallen quite dark while she was still in the middle of the wood. +Then all at once she heard a bird with loud voice cry out of the +darkness, "Look up, Japonel!" The cry was so sudden and so strange, +coming at that place and that hour, that all through her grief she heard +it, and stopped to look up. Again in the darkness she heard the bird +cry, "Why do you weep, Japonel?" Japonel said, "Because the pond-witch +has carried away my beautiful reflection in the water, so that I can see +my own face no more." + +Then the bird said, "Why have you not done as the birds do? She is +greedy; so they throw in millet-seeds, and then she does not steal the +reflection of their wings when they pass over." And Japonel answered, +"Because I did not know that, therefore I am to-day the most miserable +of things living." Then said the bird, "Come to-morrow, and you shall be +the happiest." + +So the next day Japonel went and sat by the pond in the wood, waiting to +be made the happiest, as the bird had promised her. All day long great +flocks of birds went to and fro, and the pond became covered with seeds. +Japonel looked; "Why, they are poppy-seeds!" she cried. (Now poppy-seeds +when they are eaten make people sleep.) Just as the sun was setting all +the birds began suddenly to cry in chorus, "Look down, Japonel! Japonel, +look down!" And there, on the pond's surface, lay an old woman dressed +in green, fast asleep, with all the folds of her dress and the wrinkles +of her face full of poppy-seeds. + +Then Japonel ran fast to the pond's edge and looked down. Slowly from +the depth rose the pale beautiful reflection of herself, untying itself +from the thin green weeds, and drifting towards the bank. It looked up +with tremulous greeting, half sadness, half pleasure, seeming so glad +after that long separation to return to its sweet mistress. So as it +came and settled below her own face in the water, Japonel stooped down +over it and kissed it. + +Then she sprang back from the brink and ran home, fast, fast in the +fading light. And there, when she looked in her mirror, was once more +the beautiful face she loved, a little blue and wan from its long +imprisonment under water. And so it ever remained, beautiful, but wan, +to remind her of the sorrow that had come upon her when, loving this too +well, she had not loved enough to listen to the cry of the birds: "Look +up, Japonel!" and, "Japonel, look down!" + + + + +GAMMELYN, THE DRESSMAKER + + +THERE was once upon a time a King's daughter who was about to be given +in marriage to a great prince; and when the wedding-day was yet a long +way off, the whole court began to concern itself as to how the bride was +to be dressed. What she should wear, and how she should wear it, was the +question debated by the King and his Court day and night, almost without +interruption. Whatever it was to be, it must be splendid, without peer. +Must it be silk, or velvet, or satin; should it be enriched with +brocade, or with gems, or sewn thick with pearls? + +But when they came to ask the Princess, she said, "I will have only a +dress of beaten gold, light as gossamer, thin as bee's-wing, soft as +swan's-down." + +Then the King, calling his chief goldsmith, told him to make for the +Princess the dress of beaten gold. But the goldsmith knew no way how +such a dress was to be made, and his answer to the King was, "Sire, the +thing is not to be done." + +Then the King grew very angry, for he said, "What a Princess can find it +in her head to wish, some man must find it in his wits to accomplish." +So he put the chief goldsmith in prison to think about it, and summoning +all the goldsmiths in the kingdom, told them of the Princess's wish, +that a dress should be made for her of beaten gold. But every one of the +goldsmiths went down on his knees to the King, saying, "Sire, the thing +is not to be done." Thereupon the King clapped them all into prison, +promising to cut off all their heads if in three weeks' time they had +not put them together to some purpose and devised a plan for making such +a dress as the Princess desired. + +Now just then Gammelyn was passing through the country, and when he +heard of all this, he felt very sorry for the goldsmiths, who had done +nothing wrong, but had told honest truth about themselves to the King. +So he set his bright wits to work, and at last said, "I think I can save +the goldsmiths their heads, for I have found a way of making such a +dress as this fine Princess desires." + +Then he went to the King and said, "I have a way for making a dress of +beaten gold." + +"But," said the King, "have a care, for if you fail I shall assuredly +cut off your head." + +All the same Gammelyn took that risk willingly and set to work. And +first he asked that the Princess would tell him what style of dress it +should be; and the Princess said, "Beaten gold, light as gossamer, thin +as bee's-wing, soft as swan's-down, and it must be made thus." So she +showed him of what fashion sleeve, and bodice, and train should be. Then +Gammelyn caused to be made (for he had a palace full of workers put +under him) a most lovely dress, in the fashion the Princess had named, +of white cambric closely woven; and the Princess came wondering at him, +saying that it was to be only of beaten gold. + +"You wait a while!" said Gammelyn, for he had no liking for the +Princess. Then he asked the King for gold out of his treasury; but the +King supplied him instead with gold from the stores of the imprisoned +goldsmiths. So he put it in a sack, and carried it to a mill, and said +to the miller, "Grind me this sack full of gold into flour." At first +the miller stared at him for a madman, but when he saw the letter in +Gammelyn's hands which the King had written, and which said, "I'll cut +off your head if you don't!" then he set to with a will, and ground the +gold into fine golden flour. So Gammelyn shouldered his sack and jogged +back to the palace. The next thing he did was to summon all the +gold-beaters in the kingdom, which he did easily enough with the King's +letter; for directly they saw the words "I'll cut off your head if you +don't!" and the King's signature beneath, they came running as fast as +their legs could carry them, till all the streets which led up to the +palace were full of them. + +Then Gammelyn chose a hundred of the strongest, and took them into the +chamber where the wedding-dress was in making. And the dress he took and +spread out on iron tables, and, sprinkling the golden flour all over it, +set the men to beat day and night for a whole week. And at the end of +the week there was a splendid dress, that looked as if it were of pure +gold only. But the Princess said, "My dress must be _all_ gold, and no +part cambric--this will not do." "You wait!" said Gammelyn, "it is not +finished yet." + +Then he made a fire of sweet spices and sandalwood, jasmine, and +mignonette; and into the fire he put the wonderful dress. + +The Princess screamed with grief and rage; for she was in love with the +dress, though she was so nice in holding him to the conditions of the +decree. But Gammelyn persevered, and what happened was this: the fire +burnt away all the threads of the cambric, but was not hot enough to +melt the gold; and when all the cambric was burnt, then he drew out of +the fire a dress of beaten gold, light as gossamer, thin as bee's-wing, +soft as swan's-down, and fragrant as a wind when it blows through a +Sultan's garden. + +So all the goldsmiths were set free from prison; and the King appointed +Gammelyn his chief goldsmith. + +But when the Princess saw the dress, she was so beside herself with +pride and pleasure that she must have also a dress made of pearl, light +as gossamer, thin as bee's-wing, soft as swan's-down. And the King sent +for all his jewellers, and told them that such a dress was to be made; +but they all went down on their bended knees, crying with one voice, +"Sire, the thing is not to be done." And all the good they got for that +was that they were clapped into prison till a way for doing it should be +found. + +Then the King said to Gammelyn, "Since my jewellers cannot make this +dress, you must do it!" But Gammelyn said, "Sire, that is not in our +bargain." And the only answer the King had to that was, "I'll cut off +your head if you don't." + +Gammelyn sighed like a sea-shell; but determining to make the best of a +bad business, he set to work. + +And, as before, he made a dress in the fashion the Princess chose, of +the finest weaving. He made each part separate; the two sleeves +separate, the body separate, the skirt and train separate. Then, at his +desire, the King commanded that all the oysters which were dredged out +of the sea should be brought to him. Out of these he selected the five +finest oysters of all; each one was the size of a tea-tray. Then he put +them into a large tank and inside each shell he put one part of the +dress--the weaving of which was so fine that there was plenty of room +for it, as well as for the oysters. And in course of time he drew out +from each shell--from one the body, from one the skirt, from one the +train, from one a sleeve, from another the other sleeve. Next he +fastened each part together with thread, and put the whole dress back +into the tank; and into the mouth of one oyster he put the joinery of +body and skirt, and into the mouth of another the joinery of skirt and +train, and into the mouth of two others the joinery of the two sleeves, +and the fifth oyster he ate. So the oysters did their work, laying their +soft inlay over the gown, just as they laid it over the inside of their +shells; and after a time Gammelyn drew forth a dress bright and +gleaming, and pure mother-o'-pearl. But "No," said the Princess, "it +must be all pure pearl, with nothing of thread in it." But, "Wait a +while!" said Gammelyn, "I have not finished yet." + +So by a decree of the King he caused to be gathered together all the +moths in the kingdom--millions of moths; and he put them all into a bare +iron room along with the dress, and sealed the doors and windows with +red sealing-wax. The Princess wept and sighed for the dress: "It will be +all eaten," said she. "Then I shall cut off his head," said the King. +But for all that, Gammelyn persevered. + +[Illustration] + +And when he opened the door they found that every thread had been eaten +away by the moths, while the mother-o'-pearl had been left uninjured. So +the dress was a perfect pearl, light as gossamer, thin as bee's-wing, +soft as swan's-down; and the King made Gammelyn his chief jeweller, and +set all the other jewellers free. + +Then the Princess was so delighted that she wished to have one more +dress also, made all of butterflies' wings. "That were easily done," +said Gammelyn, "but it were cruel to ask for such a dress to be made." + +Nevertheless the Princess would have it so, and _he_ should make it. +"I'll cut off your head if you don't," said the King. + +Gammelyn bumbled like a bee; but all he said was, "Many million +butterflies will be wanted for such a work: you must let me have again +the two dresses--the pearl, and the gold--for butterflies love bright +colours that gleam and shine; and with these alone can I gather them all +to one place." + +So the Princess gave him the two dresses; and he went to the highest +part of the palace, out on to the battlements of the great tower. There +he faced towards the west, where lay a new moon, louting towards the +setting sun; and he laid the two robes, one on either arm, spreading +them abroad, till they looked like two wings--a gold and a pearl. And +a beam of the sun came and kissed the gold wing, and a pale quivering +thread of moonlight touched the pearl wing; and Gammelyn sang: + + "Light of the moon, + Light of the sun, + Pearl of the sky, + Gold from on high, + Hearken to me! + + "Light of the moon, + Pearl of the sea, + Gold of the land + Here in my hand, + I render to thee. + + "Butterflies come! + Carry us home, + Gold of the gnome, + Pearl of the sea." + +And as he sang, out of the east came a soft muttering of wings and a +deep moving mass like a bright storm-cloud. And out of the sun ran a +long gold finger, and out of the moon a pale shivering finger of pearl, +and touching the gold and the pearl, these became verily wings and not +millinery. Then before the Princess could scream more than once, or the +King say anything about cutting off heads, the bright cloud in the east +became a myriad myriad of butterflies. And drawn by the falling flashing +sun, and by the faint falling moon, and fanned by the million wings of +his fellow-creatures, Gammelyn sprang out from the palace wall on the +crest of the butterfly-wind, and flew away brighter and farther each +moment; and followed by his myriad train of butterflies, he passed out +of sight, and in that country was never heard of again. + + + + +THE FEEDING OF THE EMIGRANTS + + +OVER the sea went the birds, flying southward to their other home where +the sun was. The rustle of their wings, high overhead, could be heard +down on the water; and their soft, shrill twitterings, and the thirsty +nibbling of their beaks; for the seas were hushed, and the winds hung +away in cloud-land. + +Far away from any shore, and beginning to be weary, their eyes caught +sight of a white form resting between sky and sea. Nearer they came, +till it seemed to be a great white bird, brooding on the calmed water; +and its wings were stretched high and wide, yet it stirred not. And the +wings had in themselves no motion, but stood rigidly poised over their +own reflection in the water. + +Then the birds came curiously, dropping from their straight course, to +wonder at the white wings that went not on. And they came and settled +about this great, bird-like thing, so still and so grand. + +On to the deck crept a small child, for the noise of the birds had come +down to him in the hold. "There is nobody at home but me," he said; for +he thought the birds must have come to call, and he wished to be polite. +"They are all gone but me," he went on; "all gone. I am left alone." + +The birds, none of them understood him; but they put their heads on one +side and looked down on him in a friendly way, seeming to consider. + +He ran down below and fetched up a pannikin of water and some biscuit. +He set the water down, and breaking the biscuit sprinkled it over the +white deck. Then he clapped his hands to see them all flutter and crowd +round him, dipping their bright heads to the food and drink he gave +them. + +They might not stay long, for the water-logged ship could not help them +on the way they wished to go; and by sunset they must touch land again. +Away they went, on a sudden, the whole crew of them, and the sound of +their voices became faint in the bright sea-air. + +"I am left alone!" said the child. + +Many days ago, while he was asleep in a snug corner he had found for +himself, the captain and crew had taken to the boats, leaving the great +ship to its fate. And forgetting him because he was so small, or +thinking that he was safe in some one of the other boats, the rough +sailors had gone off without him, and he was left alone. So for a whole +week he had stayed with the ship, like a whisper of its vanished life +amid the blues of a deep calm. And the birds came to the ship only to +desert it again quickly, because it stood so still upon the sea. + +[Illustration] + +But that night the mermen came round the vessel's side, and sang; and +the wind rose to their singing, and the sea grew rough. Yet the child +slept with his head in dreams. The dreams came from the mermen's +songs, and he held his breath, and his heart stayed burdened by the deep +sweetness of what he saw. + +Dark and strange and cold the sea-valleys opened before him; blue +sea-beasts ranged there, guarded by strong-finned shepherds, and fishes +like birds darted to and fro, but made no sound. And that was what +burdened his heart,--that for all the beauty he saw, there was no sound, +no song of a single bird to comfort him. + +The mermen reached out their blue arms to him, and sang; on the top of +the waves they sang, striving to make him forget the silence of the land +below. They offered him the sea-life: why should he be drowned and die? + +And now over him in the dark night the great wings crashed, and beat +abroad in the wind, and the ship made great way. And the mermen swam +fast to be with her, and ceased from their own song, for the wind +overhead sang loud in the rigging and the sails. But the child lifted +his head in his sleep and smiled, for his soul was eased of the mermen's +song, and it seemed to him that instead he heard birds singing in a +far-off land, singing of a child whose loving hand had fed them, faint +and weary, in their way over the wide ocean. + +In that far southern land the dawn had begun, and the birds, waking one +by one, were singing their story of him to the soft-breathing tamarisk +boughs. And none of them knew how they had been sent as a salvage crew +to save the child's spirit from the spell of the sea-dream, and to +carry it safely back to the land that loved him. + + * * * * * + +But with the child's body the white wings had flown down into the +wave-buried valleys, and to a cleft of the sea-hills to rest. + + + + +WHITE BIRCH + + +ONCE upon a time there lived in a wood a brother and sister who had been +forgotten by all the world. But this thing did not greatly grieve their +hearts, because they themselves were all the world to each other: +meeting or parting, they never forgot that. Nobody remained to tell them +who they were; but she was "Little Sister," and he was "Fair Brother," +and those were the only names they ever went by. + +In their little wattled hut they would have been perfectly happy but for +one thing which now and then they remembered and grieved over. Fair +Brother was lame--not a foot could he put to the ground, nor take one +step into the outside world. But he lay quiet on his bed of leaves, +while Little Sister went out and in, bringing him food and drink, and +the scent of flowers, and tales of the joy of earth and of the songs of +birds. + +One day she brought him a litter of withered birch-leaves to soften his +bed and make it warmer for the approaching season of cold; and all the +winter he lay on it, and sighed. Little Sister had never seen him so sad +before. + +In the spring, when the songs of the pairing birds began, his sorrow +only grew greater. "Let me go out, let me go out," he cried; "only a +little way into the bright world before I die!" She kissed his feet, and +took him up in her arms and carried him. But she could only go a very +little way with her burden; presently she had to return and lay him +down again on his bed of leaves. + +"Have I seen all the bright world?" he asked. "Is it such a little +place?" + +To hide her sorrow from him, Little Sister ran out into the woods, and +as she went, wondering how to comfort his grief, she could not help +weeping. + +All at once at the foot of a tree she saw the figure of a woman seated. +It was strange, for she had never before seen anybody else in the wood +but themselves. The woman said to her, "Why is it that you weep so?" + +"The heart of Fair Brother is breaking," replied Little Sister. "It is +because of that that I am weeping." + +"Why is his heart breaking?" inquired the other. + +"I do not know," answered Little Sister. "Ever since last autumn fell it +has been so. Always, before, he has been happy; he has no reason not to +be, only he is lame." + +She had come close to the seated figure; and looking, she saw a woman +with a very white skin, in a robe and hood of deep grey. Grey eyes +looked back at her with just a soft touch in them of the green that +comes with the young leaves of spring. + +"You are beautiful," said Little Sister, drawing in her breath. + +"Yes, I am beautiful," answered the other. "Why is Fair Brother lame? +Has he no feet?" + +"Oh, beautiful feet!" said Little Sister. "But they are like still +water; they cannot run." + +"If you want him to run," said the other, "I can tell you what to do. +What will you give me in exchange?" + +"Whatever you like to ask," answered Little Sister; "but I am poor." + +"You have beautiful hair," said the woman; "will you let that go?" + +Little Sister stooped down her head, and let the other cut off her hair. +The wind went out of it with a sigh as it fell into the grey woman's +lap. She hid it away under her robe, and said, "Listen, Little Sister, +and I will tell you! To-night is the new moon. If you can hold your +tongue till the moon is full, the feet of Fair Brother shall run like a +stream from the hills, dancing from rock to rock." + +"Only tell me what I must do!" said Little Sister. + +"You see this birch-tree, with its silver skin?" said the woman. "Cut +off two strips of it and weave them into shoes for Fair Brother. And +when they are finished by the full moon, if you have not spoken, you +have but to put them upon Fair Brother's feet, and they will outrun +yours." + +So Little Sister, as the other had told her, cut off two strips from the +bark of the birch-tree, and ran home as fast as she could to tell her +brother of the happiness which, with only a little waiting, was in store +for them. + +But as she came near home, over the low roof she saw the new moon +hanging like a white feather in the air; and, closing her lips, she went +in and kissed Fair Brother silently. + +He said, "Little Sister, loose out your hair over me, and let me feel +the sweet airs; and tell me how the earth sounds, for my heart is sick +with sorrow and longing." She took his hand and laid it upon her heart +that he might feel its happy beating, but said no word. Then she sat +down at his feet and began to work at the shoes. All the birch-bark she +cut into long strips fit for weaving, doing everything as the grey woman +had told her. + +Fair Brother fretted at her silence, and cried, calling her cruel; but +she only kissed his feet, and went on working the faster. And the white +birch shoes grew under her hands; and every night she watched and saw +the moon growing round. + +Fair Brother said, "Little Sister, what have you done with your hair in +which you used to fetch home the wind? And why do you never go and bring +me flowers or sing me the song of the birds?" And Little Sister looked +up and nodded, but never answered or moved from her task, for her +fingers were slow, and the moon was quick in its growing. + +One night Fair Brother was lying asleep, and his head was filled with +dreams of the outer world into which he longed to go. The full moon +looked in through the open door, and Little Sister laughed in her heart +as she slipped the birch shoes on to his feet. "Now run, dear feet," she +whispered; "but do not outrun mine." + +Up in his sleep leapt Fair Brother, for the dream of the white birch had +hold of him. A lady with a dark hood and grey eyes full of the laughter +of leaves beckoned him. Out he ran into the moonlight, and Little Sister +laughed as she ran with him. + +In a little while she called, "Do not outrun me, Fair Brother!" But he +seemed not to hear her, for not a bit did he slacken the speed of his +running. + +Presently she cried again, "Rest with me a while, Fair Brother! Do not +outrun me!" But Fair Brother's feet were fleet after their long +idleness, and they only ran the faster. "Ah, ah!" she cried, all out of +breath. "Come back to me when you have done running, Fair Brother." And +as he disappeared among the trees, she cried after him, "How will you +know the way, since you were never here before? Do not get lost in the +wood, Fair Brother!" + +She lay on the ground and listened, and could hear the white birch shoes +carrying him away till all sound of them died. + +When, next morning, he had not returned, she searched all day through +the wood, calling his name. + +"Where are you, Fair Brother? Where have you lost yourself?" she cried, +but no voice answered her. + +For a while she comforted her heart, saying, "He has not run all these +years--no wonder he is still running. When he is tired he will return." + +But days and weeks went by, and Fair Brother never came back to her. +Every day she wandered searching for him, or sat at the door of the +little wattled hut and cried. + +One day she cried so much that the ground became quite wet with her +tears. That night was the night of the full moon, but weary with grief +she lay down and slept soundly, though outside the woods were bright. + +In the middle of the night she started up, for she thought she heard +somebody go by; and, surely, feet were running away in the distance. And +when she looked out, there across the doorway was the print of the birch +shoes on the ground she had made wet with her tears. + +"Alas, alas!" cried Little Sister. "What have I done that he comes to +the very door of our home and passes by, though the moon shines in and +shows it him?" + +After that she searched everywhere through the forest to discover the +print of the birch shoes upon the ground. Here and there after rain she +thought she could see traces, but never was she able to track them far. + +Once more came the night of the full moon, and once more in the middle +of the night Little Sister started up and heard feet running away in the +distance. She called, but no answer came back to her. + +So on the third full moon she waited, sitting in the door of the hut, +and would not sleep. + +"If he has been twice," she said to herself, "he will come again, and I +shall see him. Ah, Fair Brother, Fair Brother, I have given you feet; +why have you so used me?" + +Presently she heard a sound of footsteps, and there came Fair Brother +running towards her. She saw his face pale and ghostlike, yet he never +looked at her, but ran past and on without stopping. + +"Fair Brother, Fair Brother, wait for me; do not outrun me!" cried +Little Sister; and was up in haste to be after him. + +He ran fast, and would not stop; but she ran fast too, for her love +would not let him go. Once she nearly had him by the hair, and once she +caught him by the cloak; but in her hand it shredded and crumbled like a +dry leaf; and still, though there was no breath left in her, she ran on. + +And now she began to wonder, for Fair Brother was running the way that +she knew well--towards the tree from which she had cut the two strips of +bark. Her feet were failing her; she knew that she could run no more. +Just as they came together in sight of the birch-tree Little Sister +stumbled and fell. + +She saw Fair Brother run on and strike with his hands and feet against +the tree, and cry, "Oh, White Birch, White Birch, lift the latch up, or +she will catch me!" And at once the tree opened its rind, and Fair +Brother ran in. + +"So," said Little Sister, "you are there, are you, Brother? I know, +then, what I have done to you." + +She went and laid her ear to the tree, and inside she could hear Fair +Brother sobbing and crying. It sounded to her as if White Birch were +beating him. + +"Well, well, Fair Brother, she shall not beat you for long!" said Little +Sister. + +She went home and waited till the next full moon had come. Then, as soon +as it was dark, she went along through the wood until she came to the +place, and there she crept close to the white birch-tree and waited. + +Presently she heard Fair Brother's voice come faintly out of the heart +of the tree: "White Birch, it is the full moon and the hour in which +Little Sister gave life to my feet. For one hour give me leave to go, +that I may run home and look at her while she sleeps. I will not stop or +speak, and I promise you that I will return." + +Then she heard the voice of White Birch answer grudgingly: "It is her +hour and I cannot hold you, therefore you may go. Only when you come +again I will beat you." + +Then the tree opened a little way, and Fair Brother ran out. He ran so +quickly in his eager haste that Little Sister had not time to catch him, +and she did not dare to call aloud. "I must make sure," she said to +herself, "before he comes back. To-night White Birch will have to let +him go." + +So she gathered as many dry pieces of wood as she could find, and made +them into a pile near at hand; and setting them alight, she soon had a +brisk fire burning. + +Before long she heard the sound of feet in the brushwood, and there came +Fair Brother, running as hard as he could go, with the breath sobbing in +and out of his body. + +Little Sister sprang out to meet him, but as soon as he saw her he beat +with his hands and feet against the tree, crying, "White Birch, White +Birch, lift the latch up, or she will catch me!" + +But before the tree could open Little Sister had caught hold of the +birch shoes, and pulled them off his feet, and running towards the fire +she thrust them into the red heart of the embers. + +The white birch shivered from head to foot, and broke into lamentable +shrieks. The witch thrust her head out of the tree, crying, "Don't, +don't! You are burning my skin! Oh, cruel! how you are burning me!" + +"I have not burned you enough yet," cried Little Sister; and raking the +burning sticks and faggots over the ground, she heaped them round the +foot of the white birch-tree, whipping the flames to make them leap +high. + +The witch drew in her head, but inside she could be heard screaming. As +the flames licked the white bark she cried, "Oh, my skin! You are +burning my skin. My beautiful white skin will be covered with nothing +but blisters. Do you know that you are ruining my complexion?" + +But Little Sister said, "If I make you ugly you will not be able to show +your face again to deceive the innocent, and to ruin hearts that were +happy." + +So she piled on sticks and faggots till the outside of the birch-tree +was all black and scarred and covered with blisters, the marks of which +have remained to this day. And inside, the witch could be heard dancing +time to the music of the flames, and crying because of her ruined +complexion. + +Then Little Sister stooped and took up Fair Brother in her arms. "You +cannot walk now," she whispered, "I have taken away your feet; so I will +carry you." + +He was so starved and thin that he was not very heavy, and all the long +way home Little Sister carried him in her arms. How happy they were, +looking in each other's eyes by the clear light of the moon! + +"Can you ever be happy again in the old way?" asked Little Sister. +"Shall you not want to run?" + +"No," answered Fair Brother; "I shall never wish to run again. And as +for the rest"--he stroked her head softly--"why, I can feel that your +hair is growing--it is ever so long, and I can see the wind lifting it. +White Birch has no hair of her own, but she has some that she wears, +just the same colour as yours." + + + + +THE LUCK OF THE ROSES + + +NOT far from a great town, in the midst of a well-wooded valley, lived a +rose-gardener and his wife. All round the old home green sleepy hollows +lay girdled by silver streams, long grasses bent softly in the wind, and +the half fabulous murmur of woods filled the air. + +Up in their rose-garden, on the valley's side facing the sun, the +gardener and his wife lived contentedly sharing toil and ease. They had +been young, they were not yet old; and though they had to be frugal they +did not call themselves poor. A strange fortune had belonged always to +the plot of ground over which they laboured; whether because the soil +was so rich, or the place so sheltered from cold, or the gardener so +skilled in the craft, which had come down in his family from father to +son, could not be known; but certainly it was true that his rose-trees +gave forth better bloom and bore earlier and later through the season +than any others that were to be found in those parts. + +The good couple accepted what came to them, simply and gladly, thanking +God. Perhaps it was from the kindness of fortune, or perhaps because the +sweet perfume of the roses had mixed itself in their blood, that her man +and his wife were so sweet-tempered and gentle in their ways. The colour +of the rose was in their faces, and the colour of the rose was in their +hearts; to her man she was the most beautiful and dearest of +sweethearts, to his wife he was the best and kindest of lovers. + +Every morning, before it was light, her man and his wife would go into +the garden and gather all the roses that were ripe for sale; then with +full baskets on their backs they would set out, and get to the market +just as the level sunbeams from the east were striking all the vanes and +spires of the city into gold. There they would dispose of their flowers +to the florists and salesmen of the town, and after that trudge home +again to hoe, and dig, and weed, and water, and prune, and plant for the +rest of the day. No man ever saw them the one without the other, and the +thought that such a thing might some day happen was the only fear and +sorrow of their lives. + +That they had no children of their own was scarcely a sorrow to them. +"It seems to me," said her man after they had been married for some +years, "that God means that our roses are to be our children since He +has made us love them so much. They will last when we are grown grey, +and will support and comfort us in our old age." + +All the roses they had were red, and varied little in kind, yet her man +and his wife had a name for each of them; to every tree they had given a +name, until it almost seemed that the trees knew, and tried to answer +when they heard the voices which spoke to them. + +"Jane Janet, and you ought to blossom more freely at your age!" his wife +might say to one some evening as she went round and watered the flowers; +and the next day, when the two came to their dark morning's gathering, +Jane Janet would show ten or twelve great blooms under the light of the +lantern, every one of them the birth of a single night. + +"Mary Maudlin," the gardener would say, as he washed the blight off a +favourite rose, "to be sure, you are very beautiful, but did I not love +you so, you were more trouble than all your sisters put together." And +then all at once great dew-drops would come tumbling down out of Mary +Maudlin's eyes at the tender words of his reproach. So day by day the +companionable feet of the happy couple moved to and fro, always intent +on the nurture and care of their children. + +In their garden they had bees too, who by strange art, unlike other +bees, drew all their honey from the roses, and lived in a cone-thatched +hive close to the porch; and that honey was famous through all the +country-side, for its flavour was like no other honey made in the world. + +Sometimes his wife said to her man, "I think our garden is looked after +for us by some good Spirit; perhaps it is the Saints after whom we have +named our rose-children." + +Her man made answer, "It is rich in years, which, like an old wine, have +made it gain in flavour; it has been with us from father to son for +three hundred years, and that is a great while." + +"A full fairy's lifetime!" said his wife. "'Tis a pity we shall not hand +it on, being childless." + +"When we two die," said her man, "the roses will make us a grave and +watch over us." As he spoke a whole shower of petals fell from the +trees. + +"Did no one pass, just then?" said his wife. + +Now one morning, soon after this, in the late season of roses, her man +had gone before his wife into the garden, gathering for the market in +the grey dusk before dawn; and wherever he went moths and beetles came +flocking to the light of his lantern, beating against its horn shutters +and crying to get in. Out of each rose, as the light fell on it, winged +things sprang up into the darkness; but all the roses were bowed and +heavy as if with grief. As he picked them from the stem great showers of +dew fell out of them, making pools in the hollow of his palm. + +There was such a sound of tears that he stopped to listen; and, surely, +from all round the garden came the "drip, drip" of falling dew. Yet the +pathways under foot were all dry; there had been no rain and but little +dew. Whence was it, then, that the roses so shook and sobbed? For under +the stems, surely, there was something that sobbed; and suddenly the +light of the lantern took hold of a beautiful small figure, about three +feet high, dressed in old rose and green, that went languidly from +flower to flower. She lifted up such tired hands to draw their heads +down to hers; and to each one she kissed she made a weary little sound +of farewell, her beautiful face broken up with grief; and now and then +out of her lips ran soft chuckling laughter, as if she still meant to be +glad, but could not. + +The gardener broke into tears to behold a sight so pitiful; and his wife +had stolen out silently to his side, and was weeping too. + +[Illustration] + +"Drip, drip," went the roses: wherever she came and kissed, they all +began weeping. The gardener and his wife knelt down and watched her; in +and out, in and out, not a rose blossom did she miss. She came nearer +and nearer, and at last was standing before them. She seemed hardly able +to draw limb after limb, so weak was she; and her filmy garments hung +heavy as chains. + +A little voice said in their ears, "Kiss me, I am dying!" + +They tasted her breath of rose. + +"Do not die!" they said simply. + +"I have lived three hundred years," she answered. "Now I must die. I am +the Luck of the Roses, but I must leave them and die." + +"When must you die?" said her man and his wife. + +The little lady said: "Before the last roses are over; the chills of +night take me, the first frost will kill me. Soon I must die. Now I must +dwindle and dwindle, for little life is left to me, and only so can I +keep warm. As life and heat grow less, so must I, till presently I am no +more." + +She was a little thing already--not old, she did not seem old, but +delicate as a snowflake, and so weary. She laid her head in the hand of +the gardener's wife, and sobbed hard. + +"You dear people, who belong so much to me too, I have watched over +you." + +"Let us watch over you!" said they. They lifted her like a +feather-weight, and carried her into the house. There, in the +ingle-nook, she sat and shivered, while they brought rose-leaves and +piled round her; but every hour she grew less and less. + +Presently the sun shone full upon her from the doorway: its light went +through her as through coloured glass; and her man and his wife saw, +over the ingle behind her, shadows fluttering as of falling rose-petals: +it was the dying rose of her life, falling without end. + +All day long she dwindled and grew more weak and frail. Before sunset +she was smaller than a small child when it first comes into the world. +They set honey before her to taste, but she was too weary to uncurl her +tiny hands: they lay like two white petals in the green lap of her gown. +The half-filled panniers of roses stood where they had been set down in +the porch: the good couple had taken nothing to the market that day. The +luck of the house lay dying, for all their care; they could but sit and +watch. + +When the sun had set, she faded away fast: now she was as small as a +young wren. The gardener's wife took her and held her for warmth in the +hollow of her hand. Presently she seemed no more than a grasshopper: the +tiny chirrup of her voice was heard, about the middle of the night, +asking them to take her and lay her among the roses, in the heart of one +of the red roses, that there she and death might meet sweetly at the +last. + +They went together into the dark night, and felt their way among the +roses; presently they quite lost her tiny form: she had slipped away +into the heart of a Jane Janet rose. + +The gardener and his wife went back into the house and sat waiting: they +did not know for what, but they were too sad at heart to think just then +of sleep. + +Soon the first greys of morning began to steal over the world; pale +shivers ran across the sky, and one bird chirped in its sleep among the +trees. + +All at once there rang a soft sound of lamentation among the roses in +the rose-garden; again and again, like the cry of many gentle wounded +things in pain. The gardener and his wife went and opened the door: they +had to tell the bees of the fairy's death. They looked out under the +twilight, into the garden they loved. "Drip," "drip," "drip" came the +sound of steady weeping under the leaves. Peering out through the +shadows they saw all the rose-trees rocking softly for grief. + +"Snow?" said his wife to her man. + +But it was not snow. + +Under the dawn all the roses in the garden had turned white; for they +knew that the fairy was dead. + +The gardener and his wife woke the bees, and told them of the fairy's +death; then they looked in each other's faces, and saw that they, too, +had become white and grey. + +With gentle eyes the old couple took hands, and went down into the +garden to gather white roses for the market. + + + + +THE WHITE DOE + + +ONE day, as the king's huntsman was riding in the forest, he came to a +small pool. Fallen leaves covering its surface had given it the colour +of blood, and knee-deep in their midst stood a milk-white doe drinking. + +The beauty of the doe set fire to the huntsman's soul; he took an arrow +and aimed well at the wild heart of the creature. But as he was loosing +the string the branch of a tree overhanging the pool struck him across +the face, and caught hold of him by the hair; and arrow and doe vanished +away together into the depths of the forest. + +Never until now, since he entered the king's service, had the huntsman +missed his aim. The thought of the white doe living after he had willed +its death inflamed him with rage; he could not rest till he had brought +hounds to the trail, determined to follow until it had surrendered to +him its life. + +All day, while he hunted, the woods stayed breathless, as if to watch; +not a blade moved, not a leaf fell. About noon a red deer crossed his +path; but he paid no heed, keeping his hounds only to the white doe's +trail. + +At sunset a fallow deer came to disturb the scent, and through the +twilight, as it deepened, a grey wolf ran in and out of the underwood. +When night came down, his hounds fled from his call, following through +tangled thickets a huge black boar with crescent tusks. So he found +himself alone, with his horse so weary that it could scarcely move. + +But still, though the moon was slow in its rising, the fever of the +chase burned in the huntsman's veins, and caused him to press on. For +now he found himself at the rocky entrance of a ravine whence no way +led; and the white doe being still before him, he made sure that he +would get her at last. So when his horse fell, too tired to rise again, +he dismounted and forced his way on; and soon he saw before him the +white doe, labouring up an ascent of sharp crags, while closer and +higher the rocks rose and narrowed on every side. Presently she had +leapt high upon a boulder that shook and swayed as her feet rested, and +ahead the wall of rocks had joined so that there was nowhere farther +that she might go. + +Then the huntsman notched an arrow, and drew with full strength, and let +it go. Fast and straight it went, and the wind screamed in the red +feathers as they flew; but faster the doe overleapt his aim, and, +spurning the stone beneath, down the rough-bouldered gully sent it +thundering, shivering to fragments as it fell. Scarcely might the +huntsman escape death as the great mass swept past: but when the danger +was over he looked ahead, and saw plainly, where the stone had once +stood, a narrow opening in the rock, and a clear gleam of moonlight +beyond. + +That way he went, and passing through, came upon a green field, as full +of flowers as a garden, duskily shining now, and with dark shadows in +all its folds. Round it in a great circle the rocks made a high wall, so +high that along their crest forest-trees as they clung to look over +seemed but as low-growing thickets against the sky. + +The huntsman's feet stumbled in shadow and trod through thick grass into +a quick-flowing streamlet that ran through the narrow way by which he +had entered. He threw himself down into its cool bed, and drank till he +could drink no more. When he rose he saw, a little way off, a small +dwelling-house of rough stone, moss-covered and cosy, with a roof of +wattles which had taken root and pushed small shoots and clusters of +grey leaves through their weaving. Nature, and not man, seemed there to +have been building herself an abode. + +Before the doorway ran the stream, a track of white mist showing where +it wound over the meadow; and by its edge a beautiful maiden sat, and +was washing her milk-white feet and arms in the wrinkling eddies. + +To the huntsman she became all at once the most beautiful thing that the +world contained; all the spirit of the chase seemed to be in her blood, +and each little movement of her feet made his heart jump for joy. "I +have looked for you all my life!" thought he, as he halted and gazed, +not daring to speak lest the lovely vision should vanish, and the memory +of it mock him for ever. + +The beautiful maiden looked up from her washing. "Why have you come +here?" said she. + +The huntsman answered her as he believed to be the truth, "I have come +because I love you!" + +"No," she said, "you came because you wanted to kill the white doe. If +you wish to kill her, it is not likely that you can love me." + +"I do not wish to kill the white doe!" cried the huntsman; "I had not +seen you when I wished that. If you do not believe that I love you, take +my bow and shoot me to the heart; for I will never go away from you +now." + +At his word she took one of the arrows, looking curiously at the red +feathers, and to test the sharp point she pressed it against her breast. +"Have a care!" cried the hunter, snatching it back. He drew his breath +sharply and stared. "It is strange," he declared; "a moment ago I almost +thought that I saw the white doe." + +"If you stay here to-night," said the maiden, "about midnight you will +see the white doe go by. Take this arrow, and have your bow ready, and +watch! And if to-morrow, when I return, the arrow is still unused in +your hand, I will believe you when you say that you love me. And you +have only to ask, and I will do all that you desire." + +Then she gave the huntsman food and drink and a bed of ferns upon which +to rest. "Sleep or wake," said she as she parted from him; "if truly you +have no wish to kill the white doe, why should you wake? Sleep!" + +"I do not wish to kill the white doe," said the huntsman. Yet he could +not sleep: the memory of the one wild creature which had escaped him +stung his blood. He looked at the arrow which he held ready, and grew +thirsty at the sight of it. "If I see, I must shoot!" cried his hunter's +heart. "If I see, I must not shoot!" cried his soul, smitten with love +for the beautiful maiden, and remembering her word. "Yet, if I see, I +know I must shoot--so shall I lose all!" he cried as midnight +approached, and the fever of long waiting remained unassuaged. + +Then with a sudden will he drew out his hunting-knife, and scored the +palms of his two hands so deeply that he could no longer hold his bow or +draw the arrow upon the string. "Oh, fair one, I have kept my word to +you!" he cried as midnight came. "The bow and the arrow are both ready." + +Looking forth from the threshold by which he lay, he saw pale moonlight +and mist making a white haze together on the outer air. The white doe +ran by, a body of silver; like quicksilver she ran. And the huntsman, +the passion to slay rousing his blood, caught up arrow and bow, and +tried in vain with his maimed hands to notch the shaft upon the string. + +The beautiful creature leapt lightly by, between the curtains of +moonbeam and mist; and as she went she sprang this way and that across +the narrow streamlet, till the pale shadows hid her altogether from his +sight. "Ah! ah!" cried the huntsman, "I would have given all my life to +be able to shoot then! I am the most miserable man alive; but to-morrow +I will be the happiest. What a thing is love, that it has known how to +conquer in me even my hunter's blood!" + +In the morning the beautiful maiden returned; she came sadly. "I gave +you my word," said she: "here I am. If you have the arrow still with you +as it was last night, I will be your wife, because you have done what +never huntsman before was able to do--not to shoot at the white doe when +it went by." + +The huntsman showed her the unused arrow; her beauty made him altogether +happy. He caught her in his arms, and kissed her till the sun grew high. +Then she brought food and set it before him; and taking his hand, "I am +your wife," said she, "and with all my heart my will is to serve you +faithfully. Only, if you value your happiness, do not shoot ever at the +white doe." Then she saw that there was blood on his hand, and her face +grew troubled. She saw how the other hand also was wounded. "How came +this?" she asked; "dear husband, you were not so hurt yesterday." + +And the huntsman answered, "I did it for fear lest in the night I should +fail, and shoot at the white doe when it came." + +Hearing that, his wife trembled and grew white. "You have tricked us +both," she said, "and have not truly mastered your desire. Now, if you +do not promise me on your life and your soul, or whatever is dearer, +never to shoot at a white doe, sorrow will surely come of it. Promise +me, and you shall certainly be happy!" + +So the huntsman promised faithfully, saying, "On your life, which is +dearer to me than my own, I give you my word to keep that it shall be +so." Then she kissed him, and bound up his wounds with healing herbs; +and to look at her all that day, and for many days after, was better to +him than all the hunting the king's forest could provide. + +For a whole year they lived together in perfect happiness, and two +children came to bless their union--a boy and a girl born at the same +hour. When they were but a month old they could run; and to see them +leaping and playing before the door of their home made the huntsman's +heart jump for joy. "They are forest-born, and they come of a hunter's +blood; that is why they run so early, and have such limbs," said he. + +"Yes," answered his wife, "that is partly why. When they grow older they +will run so fast--do not mistake them for deer if ever you go hunting." + +No sooner had she said the word than the memory of it, which had slept +for a whole year, stirred his blood. The scent of the forest blew up +through the rocky ravine, which he had never repassed since the day when +he entered, and he laid his hands thoughtfully on the weapons he no +longer used. + +Such restlessness took hold of him all that day that at night he slept +ill, and, waking, found himself alone with no wife at his side. Gazing +about the room, he saw that the cradle also was empty. "Why," he +wondered, "have they gone out together in the middle of the night?" + +Yet he gave it little more thought, and turning over, fell into a +troubled sleep, and dreamed of hunting and of the white doe that he had +seen a year before stooping to drink among the red leaves that covered +the forest pool. + +In the morning his wife was by his side, and the little ones lay asleep +upon their crib. "Where were you," he asked, "last night? I woke, and +you were not here." + +His wife looked at him tenderly, and sighed. "You should shut your eyes +better," said she. "I went out to see the white doe, and the little ones +came also. Once a year I see her; it is a thing I must not miss." + +The beauty of the white doe was like strong drink to his memory: the +beautiful limbs that had leapt so fast and escaped--they alone, of all +the wild life in the world, had conquered him. "Ah!" he cried, "let me +see her, too; let her come tame to my hand, and I will not hurt her!" + +His wife answered: "The heart of the white doe is too wild a thing; she +cannot come tame to the hand of any hunter under heaven. Sleep again, +dear husband, and wake well! For a whole year you have been sufficiently +happy; the white doe would only wound you again in your two hands." + +When his wife was not by, the hunter took the two children upon his +knee, and said, "Tell me, what was the white doe like? what did she do? +and what way did she go?" + +The children sprang off his knee, and leapt to and fro over the stream. +"She was like this," they cried, "and she did this, and this was the +way she went!" At that the hunter drew his hand over his brow. "Ah," he +said, "I seemed then almost to see the white doe." + +Little peace had he from that day. Whenever his wife was not there he +would call the little ones to him, and cry, "Show me the white doe and +what she did." And the children would leap and spring this way and that +over the little stream before the door, crying, "She was like this, and +she did this, and this was the way she went!" + +The huntsman loved his wife and children with a deep affection, yet he +began to have a dread that there was something hidden from his eyes +which he wished yet feared to know. "Tell me," he cried one day, half in +wrath, when the fever of the white doe burned more than ever in his +blood, "tell me where the white doe lives, and why she comes, and when +next. For this time I must see her, or I shall die of the longing that +has hold of me!" Then, when his wife would give no answer, he seized his +bow and arrows and rushed out into the forest, which for a whole year +had not known him, slaying all the red deer he could find. + +Many he slew in his passion, but he brought none of them home, for +before the end a strange discovery came to him, and he stood amazed, +dropping the haunch which he had cut from his last victim. "It is a +whole year," he said to himself, "that I have not tasted meat; I, a +hunter, who love only the meat that I kill!" + +Returning home late, he found his wife troubling her heart over his long +absence. "Where have you been?" she asked him, and the question inflamed +him into a fresh passion. + +"I have been out hunting for the white doe," he cried; "and she carries +a spot in her side where some day my arrow must enter. If I do not find +her I shall die!" + +His wife looked at him long and sorrowfully; then she said: "On your +life and soul be it, and on mine also, that your anger makes me tell +what I would have kept hidden. It is to-night that she comes. Now it +remains for you to remember your word once given to me!" + +"Give it back to me!" he cried; "it is my fate to finish the quest of +the white doe." + +"If I give it," said she, "your happiness goes with it, and mine, and +that of our children." + +"Give it back to me!" he said again; "I cannot live unless I may master +the white doe! If she will come tame to my hand, no harm shall happen to +her." + +And when she denied him again, he gave her his bow and arrows, and bade +her shoot him to the heart, since without his word rendered back to him +he could not live. + +Then his wife took both his hands and kissed them tenderly, and with +loud weeping quickly set him free of his promise. "As well," said she, +"ask the hunter to go bound to the lion's den as the white doe to come +tame into your keeping; though she loved you with all her heart, you +could not look at her and not be her enemy." She gazed on him with full +affection, and sighed deeply. "Lie down for a little," she said, "and +rest; it is not till midnight that she comes. When she comes I will wake +you." + +She took his head in her hands and set it upon her knee, making him lie +down. "If she will come and stand tame to my hand," he said again, "then +I will do her no harm." + +After a while he fell asleep; and, dreaming of the white doe, started +awake to find it was already midnight, and the white doe standing there +before him. But as soon as his eyes lighted on her they kindled with +such fierce ardour that she trembled and sprang away out of the door and +across the stream. "Ah, ah, white doe, white doe!" cried the wind in the +feathers of the shaft that flew after her. + +Just at her leaping of the stream the arrow touched her; and all her +body seemed to become a mist that dissolved and floated away, broken +into thin fragments over the fast-flowing stream. + +By the hunter's side his wife lay dead, with an arrow struck into her +heart. The door of the house was shut; it seemed to be only an evil +dream from which he had suddenly awakened. But the arrow gave real +substance to his hand: when he drew it out a few true drops of blood +flowed after. Suddenly the hunter knew all he had done. "Oh, white doe, +white doe!" he cried, and fell down with his face to hers. + +[Illustration] + +At the first light of dawn he covered her with dry ferns, that the +children might not see how she lay there dead. "Run out," he cried to +them, "run out and play! Play as the white doe used to do!" And the +children ran out and leapt this way and that across the stream, crying, +"She was like this, and she did this, and this was the way she went!" + +So while they played along the banks of the stream, the hunter took up +his beautiful dead wife and buried her. And to the children he said, +"Your mother has gone away; when the white doe comes she will return +also." + +"She was like this," they cried, laughing and playing, "and she did +this, and this was the way she went!" And all the time as they played he +seemed to see the white doe leaping before him in the sunlight. + +That night the hunter lay sleepless on his bed, wishing for the world to +end; but in the crib by his side the two children lay in a sound +slumber. Then he saw plainly in the moonlight, the white doe with a red +mark in her side, standing still by the doorway. Soon she went to where +the young ones were lying, and, as she touched the coverlet softly with +her right fore-foot, all at once two young fawns rose up from the ground +and sprang away into the open, following where the white doe beckoned +them. + +Nor did they ever return. For the rest of his life the huntsman stayed +where they left him, a sorrowful and lonely man. In the grave where lay +the woman's form he had slain he buried his bow and arrows far from the +sight of the sun or the reach of his own hand; and coming to the place +night by night, he would watch the mists and the moonrise, and cry, +"White doe, white doe, will you not some day forgive me?" and did not +know that she had forgiven him then when, before she died, she kissed +his two hands and made him sleep for the last time with his head on her +knee. + + + + +THE MOON-STROKE + + +IN the hollow heart of an old tree a Jackdaw and his wife had made +themselves a nest. As soon as the mother of his eggs had finished +laying, she sat waiting patiently for something to come of it. One by +one five mouths poked out of the shells, demanding to be fed; so for +weeks the happy couple had to be continually in two places at once +searching for food to satisfy them. + +Presently the wings of the young ones grew strong; they could begin to +fly about; and the parents found time for a return to pleasuring and +curiosity-hunting. They began gathering in a wise assortment of broken +glass and chips of platter to grace the corners of their dwelling. All +but the youngest Jackdaw were enchanted with their unutterable beauty +and value; they were never tired of quarrelling over the possession and +arrangement of them. + +"But what are they for?" asked the youngest, a perverse bird who kept +himself apart from the rest, and took no share in their daily +squabblings. + +The mother-bird said: "They are beautiful, and what God intended for us: +therefore they must be true. We may not see the use of them yet, but no +doubt some day they will come true." + +The little Jackdaw said: "Their corners scratch me when I want to go to +sleep; they are far worse than crumbs in the bed. All the other birds do +without them--why should not we?" + +"That is what distinguishes us from the other birds!" replied the +Janedaw, and thanked her stars that it was so. + +"I wish we could sing!" sighed the littlest young Jackdaw. + +"Babble, babble!" replied his mother angrily. + +And then, as it was dinner-time, he forgot his grief, as they all said +grace and fell-to. + +One evening the old Jackdaw came home very late, carrying something that +burned bright and green, like an evening star; all the nest shone where +he set it down. + +"What do you think of that for a discovery?" he said to the Janedaw. + +"Think?" she said; "I can't. Some of it looks good to eat; but that +fire-patch at the end would burn one's inside out." + +Presently the Jackdaw family settled itself down to sleep; only the +youngest one sat up and watched. Now he had seen something beautiful. +Was it going to come true? Its light was like the song of the +nightingale in the leaves overhead: it glowed, and throbbed, and grew +strong, flooding the whole place where it lay. + +Soon, in the silence, he heard a little wail of grief: "Why have they +carried me away here," sighed the glow-worm, "out of the tender grass +that loves the ground?" + +The littlest Jackdaw listened with all his heart. Now something at last +was going to become true, without scratching his legs and making him +feel as though crumbs were in his bed. + +A little winged thing came flying down to the green light, and two +voices began crying together--the glow-worm and its mate. + +"They have carried you away?" + +"They have carried me away; up here I shall die!" + +"I am too weak to lift you," said the one with wings; "you will stay +here, and you will die!" Then they cried yet more. + +"It seems to me," thought the Jackdaw, "that as soon as the beautiful +becomes true, God does not intend it to be for us." He got up softly +from among his brothers. "I will carry you down," he said. And without +more ado, he picked it up and carried it down out of the nest, and laid +it in the long grass at the foot of the tree. + +Overhead the nightingale sang, and the full moon shone; its rays struck +down on the little Jackdaw's head. + +For a bird that is not a nightingale to wake up and find its head +unprotected under the rays of a full moon is serious: there and then he +became moon-struck. He went back into bed; but he was no longer the same +little Jackdaw. "Oh, I wish I could sing!" he thought; and not for hours +could he get to sleep. + +In the morning, when the family woke up, the beautiful and the true was +gone. The father Jackdaw thought he must have swallowed it in his sleep. + +"If you did," said his wife, "there'll be a smell of burnt feathers +before long!" + +But the littlest Jackdaw said, "It came true, and went away, because it +was never intended for us." + +Now some days after this the old Jackdaw again came carrying something +that shone like an evening star--a little spike of gold with a burning +emerald set in the end of it. "And what do you think of that?" said he +to his wife. + +"I daren't come near it," she answered, "for fear it should burn me!" + +That night the little Jackdaw lay awake, while all the others slept, +waiting to hear the green stone break out into sorrow, and to see if its +winged mate would come seeking it. But after hours had gone, and nothing +stirred or spoke, he slipped softly out of the nest, and went down to +search for the poor little winged mate who must surely be about +somewhere. + +And now, truly, among the grasses and flowers he heard something sobbing +and sighing; a little winged thing darted into sight and out again, +searching the ground like a dragon-fly at quest. And all the time, amid +the darting and humming of its wings, came sobbing and wringing of +hands. + +The young Jackdaw called: "Little wings, what have you lost? Is it not a +spike with a green light at the end of it?" + +"My wand, my wand!" cried the fairy, beside herself with grief. "Just +about sunset I was asleep in an empty wren's nest, and when I woke up my +wand was gone!" + +Then the little Jackdaw, being moon-struck, and not knowing the value of +things, flew up to the nest and brought back the fairy her wand. + +"Oh!" she cried, "you have saved my life!" And she thanked the Jackdaw +till he grew quite modest and shy. + +[Illustration] + +"What is it for? What can you do with it?" he asked. + +"With this," she answered, "I can make anything beautiful come true! I +can give you whatever you ask; you have but to ask, and you shall have." + +Then the little Jackdaw, being moon-struck, and not knowing the value of +things, said, "Oh, if I could only sing like a nightingale!" + +"You can!" said the fairy, waving her wand but once; and immediately +something like a melodious sneeze flew into his head and set it shaking. + +"Chiou! chiou! True-true-true-true! Jug! jug! Oh, beautiful! beautiful!" +His beak went dabbling in the sweet sound, rippling it this way and +that, spraying it abroad out of his blissful heart as a jewel throws out +its fires. + +The fairy was gone; but the little Jackdaw sprang up into the high elm, +and sang on endlessly through the whole night. + +At dawn he stopped, and looking down, there he saw the family getting +ready for breakfast, and wondering what had become of him. + +Just as they were saying grace he flew in, his little heart beating with +joy over his new-found treasure. What a jewel of a voice he had: better +than all the pieces of glass and chips of platter lying down there in +the nest! As soon as the parent-birds had finished grace, he lifted his +voice and thanked God that the thing he had wished for had become true. + +None of them understood what he said, but they paid him plenty of +attention. All his brothers and sisters put up their heads and giggled, +as the young do when one of their number misbehaves. + +"Don't make that noise!" said his mother; "it's not decent!" + +"It's low!" said the father-bird. + +The littlest young Jackdaw was overwhelmed with astonishment. When he +tried to explain, his unseemly melodies led to his immediate expulsion +from the family circle. Such noises, he was told, could only be made in +private; when he had quite got over them he might come back,--but not +until. + +He never got over them; so he never came back. For a few days he hid +himself in different trees of the garden, and sang the praises of +sorrow; but his family, though they comprehended him not, recognised his +note, and came searching him with beak and claw, and drove him out so as +not to have him near them committing such scandalous noises to the ears +of the public. + +"He lies in his throat!" said the old Jackdaw. "Everything he says he +garbles. If he is our son he must have been hatched on the wrong side of +the nest!" + +After that, wherever he went, all the birds jeered at and persecuted +him. Even the nightingales would not listen to his brotherly voice. They +made fun of his black coat, and called him a Nonconformist without a +conscience. "All this has come about," thought he, "because God never +meant anything beautiful to come true." + +One day a man who saw him and heard him singing, caught him, and took +him round the world in a cage for show. The value of him was +discovered. Great crowds came to see the little Jackdaw, and to hear him +sing. He was described now as the "Amphabulous Philomel, or the +Mongrel-Minstrel"; but it gave him no joy. + +Before long he had become what we call tame--that is to say, his wings +had been clipped; he was allowed out of his cage, because he could no +longer fly away, and he sang when he was told, because he was whipped if +he did not. + +One day there was a great crowd round the travelling booth where he was +on view: the showman had a new wonder which he was about to show to the +people. He took the little Jackdaw out of his cage, and set him to perch +upon his shoulder, while he busied himself over something which he was +taking carefully out of ever so many boxes and coverings. + +The Jackdaw's sad eye became attracted by a splendid scarf-pin that the +showman wore--a gold pin set with a tiny emerald that burned like fire. +The bird thought, "Now if only the beautiful could become true!" + +And now the showman began holding up a small glass bottle for the crowd +to stare into. The people were pushing this way and that to see what +might be there. + +At the bottom sat the little fairy, without her wand, weeping and +beating her hands on the glass. + +The showman was so proud he grew red in the face, and ran shouting up +and down the plank, shaking and turning the bottle upside down now and +then, so as to make the cabined fairy use her wings, and buzz like a fly +against the glass. + +The Jackdaw waggled unsteadily at his perch on the man's shoulder. "Look +at him!" laughed someone in the crowd, "he's going to steal his master's +scarf-pin." + +"Ho, ho, ho!" shouted the showman. "See this bird now! See the +marvellous mongrel nature of the beast! Who tells me he's only a +nightingale painted black?" + +The people laughed the more at that, for there was a fellow in the crowd +looking sheepish. The Jackdaw had drawn out the scarf-pin, and held it +gravely in its beak, looking sideways with cunning eyes. He was wishing +hard. All the crowd laughed again. + +Suddenly the showman's hand gave a jerk, the bottle slipped from his +hold and fell, shivering itself upon the ground. + +There was a buzz of wings--the fairy had escaped. + +"The beautiful is coming true," thought the Jackdaw, as he yielded to +the fairy her wand, and found, suddenly, that his wings were not clipped +after all. + +"What more can I do for you?" asked the fairy, as they flew away +together. "You gave me back my wand; I have given you back your wings." + +"I will not ask anything," said the little Jackdaw; "what God intends +will come true." + +"Let me take you up to the moon," said the fairy. "All the Jackdaws up +there sing like nightingales." + +"Why is that?" asked the little Jackdaw. + +"Because they are all moon-struck," she answered. + +"And what is it to be moon-struck?" he asked. + +"Surely you should know, if anyone!" laughed the fairy. "To see things +beautifully, and not as they are. On the moon you will be able to do +that without any difficulty." + +"Ah," said the little Jackdaw, "now I know at last that the beautiful is +going to come true!" + + + + +THE GENTLE COCKATRICE + + +FAR above the terraces of vine, where the goat pastures ended and the +rocks began, the eye could take a clear view over the whole plain. From +that point the world below spread itself out like a green map, and the +only walls one could see were the white flanks and tower of the +cathedral rising up from the grey roofs of the city; as for the streets, +they seemed to be but narrow foot-tracks on which people appeared like +ants walking. + +This was the view of the town which Beppo, the son of the common +hangman, loved best. It was little pleasure to him to be down there, +where all the other lads drove him from their play: for the hangman had +had too much to do with the fathers and brothers of some of them, and +his son was not popular. When there was a hanging they would rush off to +the public square to see it; afterwards they made it their sport to play +at hanging Beppo, if by chance they could catch him; and that play had a +way at times of coming uncomfortably near to reality. + +Beppo did not himself go to the square when his father's trade was on; +the near view did not please him. Perched on the rocky hillside, he +would look down upon a gathering of black specks, where two others stood +detached upon a space in their midst, and would know that there his +father was hanging a man. + +Sometimes it was more than one, and that made Beppo afraid. For he knew +that for every man that he hanged his father took a dram to give him +courage for the work; and if there were several poor fellows to be cast +off from life, the hangman was not pleasant company afterwards for those +very near and dear to him. + +It happened one day that the hangman was to give the rope to five +fellows, the most popular and devil-may-care rakes and roysterers in the +whole town. Beppo was up very early that morning, and at the first +streak of light had dropped himself over the wall into the town ditch, +and was away for the open country and the free air of the hills; for he +knew that neither at home nor in the streets would life be worth living +for a week after, because of all the vengeances that would fall on him. + +Therefore he had taken from the home larder a loaf of bread and a clump +of dried figs; and with these hoped to stand the siege of a week's +solitude rather than fall in with the hard dealings of his own kind. He +knew a cave, above where the goats found pasture, out of which a little +red, rusty water trickled; there he thought to make himself a castle and +dream dreams, and was sure he would be happy enough, if only he did not +grow afraid. + +Beppo had discovered the cave one day from seeing a goat push out +through a thicket of creepers on the side of the hill; and, hidden under +their leaves, he had found it a wonderful, cool refuge from the heat of +summer noons. Now, as he entered, the place struck very cold; for it was +early spring, and the earth was not yet warmed through with the sun. So +he set himself to gather dead grass, and briers, and tufts of goat's +hair and from farther down the hillside the wood of a ruined +goat-paddock, till he had a great store of fuel at hand. He worked all +day like a squirrel for its winter hoard; and as his pile mounted he +grew less and less afraid of the cave where he meant to live. + +Seeing so large a heap of stuff ready for the feeding of his fire, he +began to rise to great heights in his own imagination. First he had been +a poor outlaw, a mere sheep-stealer hiding from men's clutches; then he +became a robber-chief; and at last he was no less than the king of the +mountains. + +"This mountain is all caves," he said to himself, "and all the caves are +full of gold; and I am the king to whom it all belongs." + +In the evening Beppo lighted his fire, in the far back of his cave, +where its light would not be seen, and sat down by its warmth to eat +dried figs and bread and drink brackish water. To-morrow he meant to +catch a kid and roast it and eat it. Why should he ever go home again? +Kid was good--he did not get that to eat when he was at home; and now in +the streets the boys must be looking for him to play at their cruel game +of hanging. Why should he go back at all? + +The fire licked its way up the long walls of the cavern; slowly the +warmth crept round on all sides. The rock where Beppo laid his hand was +no longer damp and cold; he made himself a bed of the dried litter in a +niche close to the fire, laid his head on a smooth knob of stone, and +slept. But even in his sleep he remembered his fire, dreading to awake +and find himself in darkness. Every time the warmth of it diminished he +raised himself and put on more fuel. + +[Illustration] + +In the morning--for faint blue edges of light marking the ridged throat +of the cavern told that outside the day had begun--he woke fully, and +the fire still burned. As he lay, his pillow of rock felt warm and +almost soft; and, strangely enough, through it there went a beating +sound as of blood. This must be his own brain that he heard; but he +lifted his head, and where he laid his hand could feel a slow movement +of life going on under it. Then he stared hard at the overhanging rock, +and surely it heaved softly up and down, like some great thing breathing +slowly in its sleep. + +Yet he could make out no shape at all till, having run to the other side +of the cave, he turned to see the whole face of the rock which seemed to +be taking on life. Then he realised very gradually what looked to be the +throat and jaws of a great monster lying along the ground, while all the +rest passed away into shadow or lay buried under masses of rock, which +closed round it like a mould. Below the nether-jaw bone the flames +licked and caressed the throat; and the tough, mud-coloured hide ruffled +and smoothed again as if grateful for the heat that tickled its way in. + +Very slowly indeed the great Cockatrice, which had lain buried for +thousands of years, out of reach of the light or heat of the sun, was +coming round again to life. That was Beppo's own doing, and for some +very curious reason he was not afraid. + +His heart was uplifted. "This is my cave," thought he, "so this must be +my Cockatrice! Now I will ride out on him and conquer the world. I shall +be really a king then!" + +He guessed that it must have been the warmth which had waked the +Cockatrice, so he made fires all down the side of the cave; wherever the +great flank of the Cockatrice seemed to show, there he lighted a fire to +put heat into the slumbering body of the beast. + +"Warm up, old fellow," he cried; "thaw out, I tell you! I want you to +talk to me." + +Presently the mouth of the Cockatrice unsealed itself, and began to +babble of green fields. "Hay--I want hay!" said the Cockatrice; "or +grass. Does the world contain any grass?" + +Beppo went out, and presently returned with an armful. Very slowly the +Cockatrice began munching the fresh fodder, and Beppo, intent on feeding +him back to life, ran to and fro between the hillside and the cavern +till he was exhausted and could go no more. He sat down and watched the +Cockatrice finish his meal. + +Presently, when the monster found that his fodder was at an end, he +puckered a great lid, and far up aloft in the wall of the cave flashed +out a green eye. + +If all the emeralds in the world were gathered together, they might +shine like that; if all the glow-worms came up out of the fields and put +their tails together, they might make as great an orb of fire. All the +cave looked as green as grass when the eye of the Cockatrice lighted on +it; and Beppo, seeing so mighty an optic turning its rays on him, felt +all at once shrivelled and small, and very weak at the knees. + +"Oh, Cockatrice," he said, in a monstrous sad voice, "I hope I haven't +hurt you!" + +"On the contrary," said the Cockatrice, "you have done me much good. +What are you going to do with me now?" + +"_I_ do with _you_?" cried Beppo, astonished at so wild a possibility +offering to come true. "I would like to get you out, of course--but can +I?" + +"I would like that dearly also!" said the Cockatrice. + +"But how can I?" inquired Beppo. + +"Keep me warm and feed me," returned the monster. "Presently I shall be +able to find out where my tail is. When I can move that I shall be able +to get out." + +Beppo undertook whatever the Cockatrice told him--it was so grand to +have a Cockatrice of his own. But it was a hard life, stoking up fires +day and night, and bringing the Cockatrice the fodder necessary to +replenish his drowsy being. When Beppo was quite tired out he would come +and lay his head against the monster's snout: and the Cockatrice would +open a benevolent eye and look at him affectionately. + +"Dear Cockatrice," said the boy one day, "tell me about yourself, and +how you lived and what the world was like when you were free!" + +"Do you see any green in my eye?" said the Cockatrice. + +"I do, indeed!" said Beppo. "I never saw anything so green in all the +world." + +"That's all right, then!" said the Cockatrice. "Climb up and look in, +and you will see what the world was like when I was young." + +So Beppo climbed and scrambled, and slipped and clung, till he found +himself on the margin of a wonderful green lake, which was but the +opening into the whole eye of the Cockatrice. + +And as soon as Beppo looked, he had lost his heart for ever to the world +he saw there. It was there, quite real before him: a whole world full of +living and moving things--the world before the trouble of man came to +it. + +"I see green hills, and fields, and rocks, and trees," cried Beppo, "and +among them a lot of little Cockatrices are playing!" + +"They were my brothers and sisters; I remember them," said the +Cockatrice. "I have them all in my mind's eye. Call them--perhaps they +will come and talk to you; you will find them very nice and friendly." + +"They are too far off," said Beppo, "they cannot hear me." + +"Ah, yes," murmured the Cockatrice, "memory is a wonderful thing!" + +When Beppo came down again he was quite giddy, and lost in wonder and +joy over the beautiful green world the Cockatrice had shown him. "I like +that better than this!" said he. + +"So do I," said the Cockatrice. "But perhaps, when my tail gets free, I +shall feel better." + +One morning he said to Beppo: "I do really begin to feel my tail. It is +somewhere away down the hill yonder. Go and look out for me, and tell me +if you can see it moving." + +So Beppo went to the mouth of the cave, and looked out towards the city, +over all the rocks and ridges and goat-pastures and slopes of vine that +lay between. + +Suddenly, as he looked, the steeple of the cathedral tottered, and down +fell its weathercock and two of its pinnacles, and half the chimneys of +the town snapped off their tops. All that distance away Beppo could hear +the terrified screams of the inhabitants as they ran out of their houses +in terror. + +"I've done it!" cried the Cockatrice, from within the cave. + +"But you mustn't do that!" exclaimed Beppo in horror. + +"Mustn't do what?" inquired the Cockatrice. + +"You mustn't wag your tail! You don't know what you are doing!" + +"Oh, master!" wailed the Cockatrice; "mayn't I? For the first time this +thousand years I have felt young again." + +Beppo was pale and trembling with agitation over the fearful effects of +that first tail-wagging. "You mustn't feel young!" said he. + +"Why not?" asked the Cockatrice, with a piteous wail. + +"There isn't room in the world for a Cockatrice to feel young nowadays," +answered Beppo gravely. + +"But, dear little master and benefactor," cried the Cockatrice, "what +did you wake me up for?" + +"I don't know," replied Beppo, terribly perplexed. "I wouldn't have done +it had I known where your tail was." + +"Where is it?" inquired the Cockatrice, with great interest. + +"It's right underneath the city where I mean to be king," said Beppo; +"and if you move it the city will come down; and then I shall have +nothing to be king of." + +"Very well," said the Cockatrice sadly; "I will wait!" + +"Wait for what?" thought Beppo. "Waiting won't do any good." And he +began to think what he must do. "You lie quite still!" said he to the +Cockatrice. "Go to sleep, and I will still look after you." + +"Oh, little master," said the Cockatrice, "but it is difficult to go to +sleep when the delicious trouble of spring is in one's tail! How long +does this city of yours mean to stay there? I am so alive that I find it +hard to shut an eye!" + +"I will let the fires that keep you warm go down for a bit," said Beppo, +"and you mustn't eat so much grass; then you will feel better, and your +tail will be less of an anxiety." + +And presently, when Beppo had let the fires which warmed him get low, +and had let time go by without bringing him any fresh fodder, the +Cockatrice dozed off into an uneasy, prehistoric slumber. + +Then Beppo, weeping bitterly over his treachery to the poor beast which +had trusted him, raked open the fires and stamped out the embers; and, +leaving the poor Cockatrice to get cold, ran down the hill as fast as he +could to the city he had saved--the city of which he meant to be king. + +He had been away a good many days, but the boys in the street were still +on the watch for him. He told them how he had saved the city from the +earthquake; and they beat him from the city gate to his father's door. +He told his own father how he had saved the city; and his father beat +him from his own door to the city gate. Nobody believed him. + +He lay outside the town walls till it was dark, all smarting with his +aches and pains; then, when nobody could see him, he got up and very +miserably made his way back to the cave on the hill. And all the way he +said to himself, "Shall I put fire under the Cockatrice once more, and +make him shake the town into ruins? Would not that be fine?" + +Inside, the cave was quite still and cold, and when he laid his hand on +the Cockatrice he could not feel any stir or warmth in its bones. Yet +when he called, the Cockatrice just opened a slit of his green eye and +looked at him with trust and affection. + +"Dear Cockatrice," cried Beppo, "forgive me for all the wrong I have +done you!" And as he clambered his way towards the green light, a great +tear rolled from under the heavy lid and flowed past him like a +cataract. + +"Dear Cockatrice," cried Beppo again when he stood on the margin of the +green lake, "take me to sleep with you in the land where the Cockatrices +are at play, and keep quite still with your tail!" + +Slowly and painfully the Cockatrice opened his eye enough to let Beppo +slip through; and Beppo saw the green world with its playful cockatrices +waiting to welcome him. Then the great eyelid shut down fast, and the +waking days of the Cockatrice were over. And Beppo's native town lay +safe, because he had learned from the Cockatrice to be patient and +gentle, and had gone to be king of a green world where everything was +harmless. + + + + +THE GREEN BIRD + + +THERE was once a Prince whose palace lay in the midst of a wonderful +garden. From gate to gate was a day's journey, where spring, summer, and +autumn stayed captive; for warm streams flowed, bordering its ways, +through marble conduits, and warm winds, driven by brazen fans, blew +over it out of great furnaces that were kept alive through the cold of +winter. And day by day, when no sun shone in heaven, a ball of golden +fire rose from the palace roof and passed down to the west, sustained +invisibly in mid-air, and giving light and warmth to the flowers below. +And after it by night went a lamp of silver flame, that changed its +quarters as the moon changes hers in heaven, and threw a silver light +over the lawns and the flowered avenues. + +All these things were that the Prince might have delight and beauty ever +around him. To his eyes summer was perpetual, without end, and nothing +died save to give out new life on the morrow. So through many morrows he +lived, and trod the beautiful soft ways devised for him by cunning +hands, and did not know that there was winter, or cold, or hunger to be +borne in the world, for he never crossed the threshold of his enchanted +garden, but stayed lapped in the luxury of its bright colours and soft +airs. + +One day he was standing by a bed of large white bell-lilies. Their great +bowls were full of water, and inside among the yellow stamens gold fish +went darting to and fro. While he watched he saw, mirrored in the water, +the breast of a green bird flying towards the trees of the garden. + +It had come from a far country surely, for its shape and colour were +strange to him; and the most curious thing of all was that it carried +its nest in its beak. + +Its flight came keen as a sword's edge through those bowery spaces, till +its wings closed with a shock that sent the golden fruit tumbling from +the branches where it had lodged: and through the whole garden went a +crashing sound as of soft thunder. + +The Prince waited long, hoping to hear the bird sing, but it hid itself +silently among the thickest of the leaves, and never moved or uttered a +sound. He went back to the palace a little sorry not to have heard the +green bird sing; "But, at least," he said to himself, "I shall hear it +to-morrow." + +That night he dreamed that something came and tapped at his heart; and +that his heart tapped back saying, "Go away, for if I let you in there +will be sorrow!" + +In the morning on the window-sill he saw a green feather lying; but as +he opened the window a puff of wind lifted it, and carried it high up +into the air and out of sight. + +[Illustration] + +All that day the Prince saw nothing of the Green Bird, nor heard a note +of its singing. "Strange," thought he to himself, "I have never heard +its song; yet I know quite well somehow that it sings most beautifully." +At dusk, when the lilies began to close their globes around the gold +fish and the yellow stamens, he went back to the palace, and before long +to bed, and slept. + +Once more he heard in dreams someone come tapping at his heart, and this +time his heart said, "Who is there?" Then a voice answered back, "The +Green Bird"; but his heart said, "Go away, for if I let you in there +will be sorrow!" + +Now it had been foretold of the Prince at his birth that if he ever knew +sorrow, his wealth, and his estate, and his power would all go from him. +Therefore from his childhood he had been shut up in a beautiful palace +with miles and miles of enchanted gardens, so that sorrow might not get +near him; and it was said that if ever sorrow came to him the palace and +the enchanted gardens would suddenly fall into ruin and disappear, and +he would be left standing alone to beg his way through the world. +Therefore it was for this that his heart said in his dream, "Go away, +for if I let you in there will be sorrow!" + +In the morning a green feather lay on the window-sill; but as he opened +the window the wind took it up and carried it away. + +So the next night, as soon as his attendants were gone, the Prince got +up softly and opening the window called "Green Bird!" + +Then all at once he felt something warm against his heart, and suddenly +his heart began to ache: and there was the green bird with its wings +spread gently about him, keeping time ever so softly to the beating of +his heart. + +Then the Prince said, "Beautiful Green Bird, what have you brought me?" +and the Green Bird answered, "I have brought you dreams out of a +far-off country of things you never saw; if you will come and sleep in +my nest you shall dream them." + +So the Prince went out by the window and along the balcony, and so away +into the garden and up into the heart of the great tree where the Green +Bird had its nest. There he lay down, and the Green Bird spread its +wings over him, and he fell fast asleep. + +Now as he slept he dreamed that the Green Bird put in his hand three +grains of seed saying, "Take these and keep them till you come to the +right place to sow them in. And so soon as one is sown, go on till you +come to the place where the next must be sown, following the signs which +I shall tell you of. Now the first you must not sow till you find +yourself in a white country, where the trees and the grass are white." +(And the Prince said in his heart, "Where can I find that?") "And the +second one you must not sow till you see a thing like a tortoise put out +a small white hand." ("And where," said the Prince, "can I meet with +that wonder?") "And when you have seen the second sprout up through the +ground, go on till you come again to a land you had lost and the place +where you first knew sorrow." ("And what is sorrow?" said the Prince to +his heart.) "Then when you have sown the third seed and watched it +sprout you will know perfect happiness, and will be able to hear the +song which I sing." + +Then the Green Bird lifted its wings and flew away through the night; +and out of the darkness came three notes that filled the Prince with +wonderful delight. + +But afterwards, when they ceased, came sorrow. + +Now, when the Prince woke he was in his own bed; and he rose much +puzzled by the dream which had seemed so true. Then there came to him +one of his pages who said, "There was a strange bird flying over the +palace about dawn, and a watchman on the high tower shot it; so I have +brought it for you to see." And as he spoke, the page showed him the +Green Bird lying dead between his hands. + +The Prince took it without a word, and kissed it before them all, +afterwards burying it where the white lilies full of gold fishes grew, +wherein he had first seen the image of its green breast fly. And as he +stood sorrowing, the garden faded before his eyes, and a cold wind blew; +and the palace which had its foundations on happiness crumbled away into +ruin; and heaven came down kissing the earth and making it white. + +He opened his hand and found in it three grains of seed, and then he +knew that some of his dream was really coming to pass. For he saw the +whole world was turning white before his eyes, all the trees and the +grass; therefore he sowed the first grain of seed over the little grave +that he had made, and set out over hill and dale to fulfil the dream +that the Green Bird had given him. "But the Green Bird I shall see no +more!" he said, and wept. + +For a year he went on through a waste and desolate country, meeting no +man, nor discovering any sign. Till one day as he was coming down a +mountain he saw at the bottom a hut with a round roof like a great +tortoise; and when he got quite near, out of the door came a small white +hand, palm upward, feeling to know if it rained. All at once he +remembered the word of the Green Bird, and as he dropped the second seed +into the ground it seemed to him that he heard again the three notes of +its song. + +A young girl looked out of the hut; "What do you want?" she said when +she saw the Prince. He saw her eyes, how blue and smiling they were, and +it seemed as if he had dreamed of them once. "Let me stay here for a +little," he said, "and rest." "If you will rest one day and work the +next, you may," she answered. So he rested that day, and the next he +worked at her bidding in a small patch of ground that was before the +hut. + +When the day was over and he had returned to the hut for the night, he +looked again at the young girl, and seeing how beautiful she was, said, +"Why are you here all alone, with no one to protect you?" And she +answered, "I have come from my own country, which is very far away, in +search of a beautiful Green Bird which while it was mine I loved +greatly, and which one day flew away promising to return. When you came, +something made me think the bird was with you, but perhaps to-morrow it +will return." At that the Prince sighed in his heart, for he knew that +the bird was dead. Then also she told him how in her own country she had +been a Princess; so now she from whom the Green Bird had flown, and he +to whom it had come, were living there together like beggars in a hut. + +For a whole year he toiled and waited, hoping for the second seed to +sprout; and at last one day, just where he had planted it, he saw a +little spring rising out of the ground. When the Princess saw it, she +clapped her hands, "Oh," she cried, "it is the sign I have waited for! +If we follow it, it will take us to the Green Bird." But the Prince +sighed, for in his heart he knew that the Green Bird was dead. + +Yet he let her take his hand, and they two went on following the course +of the spring till they came to a wild desolate place full of ruins; and +as soon as they came to it the spring disappeared into the ground. + +Then the Prince began to look about him, and saw that he was standing +once more in the land that he had lost, above the very spot in the +enchanted garden where he had buried the Green Bird and sorrowed over +it. Then he stooped down, and set the last grain of seed into the +ground; and as he did so, surely from below the soil came the three +sweet notes of a song! Then all at once the earth opened and out of it +grew a tree, tall and green and waving, and out of the midst of the tree +flew the Green Bird with its nest in its beak. + +The sun was setting; in the east rose a full red moon: grey mists +climbed out of the grass. The Bird sang and sang and sang; every note +had the splendour of palace-walls and towers, and gardens, and falling +fountains. The Princess ran fast and let herself be caught in the +Prince's arms while she listened. + +Many times they hung together and kissed, and all the time the Bird sang +on. + +"I see the palace walls grow," said the Princess. "They are high as the +hills, and the garden covers the valleys: and the sun and the moon +lighten it." And, in truth, round them a new palace had grown, and the +Green Bird was building his nest in the roof. + + + + +THE MAN WHO KILLED THE CUCKOO + + +ONCE upon a time there was a man who lived in a small house with a large +garden. He made his living by gardening, while his wife looked after the +house. They were better off than most of their neighbours, but they were +an envious couple who looked sourly over the hedge at all who passed by, +and took no man's advice about anything. + +At the end of the garden stood a large pear-tree: and one day the man +was working in the shade beneath it, when a cuckoo came and perched +itself on the topmost branch, crying "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" + +The man looked up with a frown on his face, and cried, "Get out of my +tree, you noisy thing!" But the cuckoo only sat and stared at the +landscape, going up and down on its two notes like a musical see-saw. + +The man stooped down, and took up a clod of earth and cast it at the +cuckoo, which immediately flew away. + +A neighbour who was passing at the time saw him, and said, "It's +ill-luck to drive away cuckoos: you would be better not to do it again." +"Do it again?" cried the man. "If it comes into my tree again I'll kill +it!" "Nobody dares kill a cuckoo;" replied the neighbour, "it's against +Providence." "I'll not only kill it, if it returns," exclaimed the man +in a fury, "but I'll eat it too!" "No, no," cried his neighbour, "you +will think better of it. Even the parson daren't kill a cuckoo." "Wait +and see if I don't better the parson, then!" growled the man, as he +turned to go on with his work; "just wait and see!" + +All the day he heard the cuckoo crying about in the field, now here, now +there, but always somewhere close at hand. It seemed to be making a mock +of him, for it always kept within sound, but never returned to the tree. +When he left off work for the day, he went into the house and grumbled +to his wife about that everlasting cuckoo. "Did you see what a big one +it was?" said his wife. "I saw it as it sat in our tree this morning." +"It will make all the bigger pie then," said the man, "if it comes +again." + +The next morning he had hardly begun to work, when the bird came and +settled on the pear-tree over his head, and shouted "Cuckoo!" + +Then the man took up a great stone, which he had by him ready, and aimed +with all his might; his aim was so true, that the stone hit the bird on +the side of the head, so that it fell down out of the tree into the +grass in front of his feet. + +"Wife," he shouted, "I've killed the cuckoo! Come and carry it in, and +cook it for my dinner." "Oh, what a great fat one!" cried his wife, as +she ran and picked it up by the neck; "and heavy! It feels as heavy as a +turkey!" + +She laid it in her apron, and went and sat in the doorway, and began +plucking it, while her husband went on with his work. Presently she +called to him, "Just look here at all these feathers! I never saw +anything like it; there are enough to stuff a feather-bed!" He looked +round, and saw the ground all covered with a great heap of feathers that +had been plucked from the bird: enough, as she said, for a feather-bed. + +"This is a new discovery," cried he, "that a cuckoo holds so many +feathers. We can make our fortunes in this way, wife--I going about +killing cuckoos, and you plucking them into feather-beds." + +Then his wife carried the cuckoo indoors, and set it down to roast. But +directly the spit began to turn, the cat jumped up from before the front +of the fire, and ran away screaming. + +The smell of the roast came out to the man as he worked in his garden. +"How good it smells!" said he. "Don't _you_ touch it, wife! You mustn't +have a bit!" "I don't care if I don't," she replied: for she had watched +it as it went turning on the spit; and up and down, up and down, it kept +moving its wings! + +When dinner-time came the man sat down, and his wife dished up the bird, +and set it upon the table before him. He ate it so greedily that he ate +it all--the bones, and the back, and the head, and the wings, and the +legs down to the last claw. + +Then he pushed back his plate, and cried, "So there's an end of him!" +But just as he was about saying that, a voice from inside of him called, +"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" + +"Oh my heart and liver!" cried the man. "What's that!" + +Then his wife began laughing and jiggering at him. "It's because you +were so greedy. If you had given me half of that cuckoo this wouldn't +have happened. Now you see you are paid." + +"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" cried the voice again from within. + +"What have I done to myself?" cried the man, in an agony of terror. +"What a poisonous noise to come from a man's belly! I shall die of it, I +know I shall!" + +His wife only said, "See, then, what comes of being greedy." + +He got up on to his feet, and looked down at his empty plate: there was +not a scrap left on it. Then he put his hands to his sides, and +shrieked, "I feel as if a windmill were turning round inside me! And I'm +so light! Wife, hold me down--I'm going off my feet!" And as he spoke, +he swung sideway, and began rising with a wobbling motion into the air. +His wife caught him by the head, while his feet swung like the pendulum +of a clock, and all the time a voice inside him kept calling, "Cuckoo! +cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" + +Presently it seemed to the unfortunate man as if the windmill had +stopped, and he was able to strike the ground with his feet once more. +"Oh, blessed Mother Earth!" he cried, and began rubbing it up and down +with his feet, and caressing it as if it had been a pet animal. But his +face had grown very white. + +"Put me to bed," he said to his wife; and she put him to bed on the top +of the great feather-mattress which she had made only that morning from +the cuckoo-pluckings. + +The cuckoo kept him awake far into the night, and his wife herself could +get no sleep; but towards morning he dozed off into a disturbed sort of +slumber, and began to dream. + +He felt his eyes turning inwards, so that he could see into the middle +of his body. And there sat the cuckoo, like an unpleasant nestling, with +great red eyes staring at him, and the wound on its head burning a blue +flame. It seemed to grow and grow and grow, dislocating his bones, and +thrusting aside his heart to make room for itself. Its wings seemed to +be sawing out his ribs, and its head was pushed far up into his throat, +where with its angry beak it seemed reaching to peck out his eyes. "I +will torment you for ever," said the bird. "You shall have no peace +until you let me go. I am the King of the Cuckoos; I will give you no +rest. You will be surprised at what I can do to you; even in your +despair you will be surprised." Then it drew down its head and pecked +his heart, so that he woke in great pain. And as his eyes turned +outwards he saw that it was morning. + +"Wife," he said, before going out, "I feel as though, if I went out, I +might be carried away, like a worm in a bird's beak. Fasten a chain +round me, and drive it with a stake into the ground, and let me see if +so I be able to work safely in my garden." + +So his wife did as he told her; but whenever he caught hold of a spade +the bird lifted him off his feet, so that he could not drive it into the +ground. He wrung his hands and wailed, "Alas, alas! now my occupation is +gone, and my wife and I shall become beggars!" + +The villagers came and looked over the hedge, wagging their heads. "Ah, +you are the man who killed the cuckoo yesterday! and already you are +come to this!" + +Every day things got worse and worse. His wife used to have to hold him +down and feed him with a spoon, for if he took up a knife to eat with, +the bird hurled him upon it so violently as to put him in danger of his +life. Also it kept him ceaselessly awake with its cry, so that he was +worn to a shadow. + +One day in the end of the month of June he heard a change come in its +horrible singing; instead of crying "Cuckoo" as before, it now broke its +note as is the cuckoo's habit to do before it goes abroad for the +winter, and cried "Cuck-cuck-Cuckoo, cuck-cuck-Cuckoo!" Some sort of a +hope came into the man's heart at that. "Presently it will be winter," +he thought to himself, "and the cuckoo must die then, even if I have to +eat ice and snow to make him! if only I do not die first," he added, and +groaned, for he was now indeed but a shadow. + +Soon after this the cuckoo left off its crying altogether. "Is he dead +already?" thought the man. All the other cuckoos had gone out of the +country: he grew quite happy with this new idea and began to put on +flesh. + +[Illustration] + +But one night, at the dead of night, the cuckoo felt a longing to be in +lands oversea come into its wings. The man woke with a loud cry, and +found himself sailing along through the air with only the stars +overhead, and the feeling of a great windmill inside him. And the cuckoo +was crying with a new note into the darkness: the cry it makes in far +lands oversea which is never heard in this country at all: a cry so +strange and terrible and wonderful that we have no word that will give +the sound of it. This man heard it, and at the sound his hair went quite +white with fright. + +When his wife woke up in the morning, her husband was nowhere to be +seen. "So!" she said to herself, "the cuckoo has picked him up and +thrown him away somewhere; and I suppose he is dead. Well, he was an +uncomfortable husband to have; and it all came of being greedy." + +She drew down the front blinds, and dressed herself in widow's mourning +all through the winter; and the next spring told another man he might +marry her if he liked. The other man happened to like the idea well +enough, for there was a house and a nice garden for anyone who would +have her. So the first fine day they went off to the Parson and got +married. + +It was a very fine day, and well on in spring: and just as they were +coming back from the church they heard the note of a cuckoo. + +The widow-bride felt a cold shiver go down her marrow. "It does make one +feel queer," she said; "that sound gave me quite a turn." "Hullo! look +at him up there!" cried the man. She stared up, and there was her +husband sailing through the air, looking more of a shadow than ever, and +very miserable with the voice of the cuckoo calling across the land from +the inside of him. + +The cuckoo deposited him at his own doorstep in front of the bridal +couple. + +"O you miserable scare-crow!" said his wife, "whatever brought you +back?" The unhappy man pointed below the surface, and the shut-up cuckoo +spoke for him. + +"And here I find you marrying yourself to another!" cried her returned +spouse: but the other man had shrunk away in disgust and disappeared, so +there was no more trouble with him. + +But the old trouble was as bad as ever, the cuckoo was just as +industrious in his cuckooings, and just as untimely: and the man went on +wearing himself to a shadow with vexation and grief. + +So all the summer went by, till again the cuckoo was heard to break its +note into a double sound. But this time, no glimmer of hope came to the +man's mind. "Tie me fast to the bed," he said sorrowfully to his wife, +"and keep me there, lest this demon of a bird carry me away again as he +did last year; a thing which I could never survive a second time. Nay, +give me a sheath-knife to keep always with me, for if he carry me away +again I am resolved that he or I shall die." + +So his wife gave him the sheath-knife, and by-and-by the bird became +very quiet, so that they almost hoped he was dead from old age. + +But one night, at the dead of night, into the birds wings came the +longing to be once more in lands oversea. He stretched out his wings, +and the man woke with a loud cry. And behold, there were he and his +wife, sailing along under the stars tied into the feather-bed together, +all complete and compact; and inside him was the feeling of a great +windmill going round and round and round. + +Then in despair he drew out his sheath-knife and cut himself open like +a haggis. And on a sudden out flew the cuckoo, all plucked and bald and +ready to roast. At the very same moment the bed-ticking burst, and away +went the cuckoo with his feathers trailing after him, uttering through +the darkness that strange terrible cry of the lands oversea. + +But the man and his wife and the empty bed-ticking, they fell and they +fell and they fell right down, till they got to the bottom of the deep +blue sea; and there was an end of them. + + + + +A CHINESE FAIRY TALE + + +TIKI-PU was a small grub of a thing; but he had a true love of Art deep +down in his soul. There it hung mewing and complaining, struggling to +work its way out through the raw exterior that bound it. + +Tiki-pu's master professed to be an artist: he had apprentices and +students, who came daily to work under him, and a large studio littered +about with the performances of himself and his pupils. On the walls hung +also a few real works by the older men, all long since dead. + +This studio Tiki-pu swept; for those who worked in it he ground colours, +washed brushes, and ran errands, bringing them their dog chops and +bird's nest soup from the nearest eating-house whenever they were too +busy to go out to it themselves. He himself had to feed mainly on the +breadcrumbs which the students screwed into pellets for their drawings +and then threw about upon the floor. It was on the floor, also, that he +had to sleep at night. + +Tiki-pu looked after the blinds, and mended the paper window-panes, +which were often broken when the apprentices threw their brushes and +mahl-sticks at him. Also he strained rice-paper over the +linen-stretchers, ready for the painters to work on; and for a treat, +now and then, a lazy one would allow him to mix a colour for him. Then +it was that Tiki-pu's soul came down into his finger-tips, and his heart +beat so that he gasped for joy. Oh, the yellows and the greens, and the +lakes and the cobalts, and the purples which sprang from the blending of +them! Sometimes it was all he could do to keep himself from crying out. + +Tiki-pu, while he squatted and ground at the colour-powders, would +listen to his master lecturing to the students. He knew by heart the +names of all the painters and their schools, and the name of the great +leader of them all who had lived and passed from their midst more than +three hundred years ago; he knew that too, a name like the sound of the +wind, Wio-wani: the big picture at the end of the studio was by him. + +That picture! To Tiki-pu it seemed worth all the rest of the world put +together. He knew, too, the story which was told of it, making it as +holy to his eyes as the tombs of his own ancestors. The apprentices +joked over it, calling it "Wio-wani's back-door," "Wio-wani's +night-cap," and many other nicknames; but Tiki-pu was quite sure, since +the picture was so beautiful, that the story must be true. + +Wio-wani, at the end of a long life, had painted it; a garden full of +trees and sunlight, with high-standing flowers and green paths, and in +their midst a palace. "The place where I would like to rest," said +Wio-wani, when it was finished. + +So beautiful was it then, that the Emperor himself had come to see it; +and gazing enviously at those peaceful walks, and the palace nestling +among the trees, had sighed and owned that he too would be glad of such +a resting-place. Then Wio-wani stepped into the picture, and walked away +along a path till he came, looking quite small and far-off, to a low +door in the palace wall. Opening it, he turned and beckoned to the +Emperor; but the Emperor did not follow; so Wio-wani went in by himself, +and shut the door between himself and the world for ever. + +That happened three hundred years ago; but for Tiki-pu the story was as +fresh and true as if it had happened yesterday. When he was left to +himself in the studio, all alone and locked up for the night, Tiki-pu +used to go and stare at the picture till it was too dark to see, and at +the little palace with the door in its wall by which Wio-wani had +disappeared out of life. Then his soul would go down into his +finger-tips, and he would knock softly and fearfully at the beautifully +painted door, saying, "Wio-wani, are you there?" + +Little by little in the long-thinking nights, and the slow early +mornings when light began to creep back through the papered windows of +the studio, Tiki-pu's soul became too much for him. He who could strain +paper, and grind colours, and wash brushes, had everything within reach +for becoming an artist, if it was the will of Fate that he should be +one. + +He began timidly at first, but in a little while he grew bold. With the +first wash of light he was up from his couch on the hard floor and was +daubing his soul out on scraps, and odds-and-ends, and stolen pieces of +rice-paper. + +Before long the short spell of daylight which lay between dawn and the +arrival of the apprentices to their work did not suffice him. It took +him so long to hide all traces of his doings, to wash out the brushes, +and rinse clean the paint-pots he had used, and on the top of that to +get the studio swept and dusted, that there was hardly time left him in +which to indulge the itching of his fingers. + +Driven by necessity, he became a pilferer of candle-ends, picking them +from their sockets in the lanterns which the students carried on dark +nights. Now and then one of these would remember that, when last used, +his lantern had had a candle in it, and would accuse Tiki-pu of having +stolen it. "It is true," he would confess; "I was hungry--I have eaten +it." The lie was so probable, he was believed easily, and was well +beaten accordingly. Down in the ragged linings of his coat Tiki-pu could +hear the candle-ends rattling as the buffeting and chastisement fell +upon him, and often he trembled lest his hoard should be discovered. But +the truth of the matter never leaked out; and at night, as soon as he +guessed that all the world outside was in bed, Tiki-pu would mount one +of his candles on a wooden stand and paint by the light of it, blinding +himself over his task, till the dawn came and gave him a better and +cheaper light to work by. + +Tiki-pu quite hugged himself over the results; he believed he was doing +very well. "If only Wio-wani were here to teach me," thought he, "I +would be in the way to becoming a great painter!" + +The resolution came to him one night that Wio-wani _should_ teach him. +So he took a large piece of rice-paper and strained it, and sitting down +opposite "Wio-wani's back-door," began painting. He had never set +himself so big a task as this; by the dim stumbling light of his candle +he strained his eyes nearly blind over the difficulties of it; and at +last was almost driven to despair. How the trees stood row behind row, +with air and sunlight between, and how the path went in and out, winding +its way up to the little door in the palace-wall were mysteries he could +not fathom. He peered and peered and dropped tears into his paint-pots; +but the secret of the mystery of such painting was far beyond him. + +The door in the palace-wall opened; out came a little old man and began +walking down the pathway towards him. + +The soul of Tiki-pu gave a sharp leap in his grubby little body. "That +must be Wio-wani himself and no other!" cried his soul. + +Tiki-pu pulled off his cap and threw himself down on the floor with +reverent grovellings. When he dared to look up again Wio-wani stood over +him big and fine; just within the edge of his canvas he stood and +reached out a hand. + +"Come along with me, Tiki-pu!" said the great one. "If you want to know +how to paint I will teach you." + +"Oh, Wio-wani, were you there all the while?" cried Tiki-pu +ecstatically, leaping up and clutching with his smeary little puds the +hand which the old man extended to him. + +"I was there," said Wio-wani, "looking at you out of my little window. +Come along in!" + +Tiki-pu took a heave and swung himself into the picture, and fairly +capered when he found his feet among the flowers of Wio-wani's beautiful +garden. Wio-wani had turned, and was ambling gently back to the door of +his palace, beckoning to the small one to follow him; and there stood +Tiki-pu, opening his mouth like a fish to all the wonders that +surrounded him. "Celestiality, may I speak?" he said suddenly. + +"Speak," replied Wio-wani; "what is it?" + +"The Emperor, was he not the very flower of fools not to follow when you +told him?" + +"I cannot say," answered Wio-wani, "but he certainly was no artist." + +Then he opened the door, that door which he had so beautifully painted, +and led Tiki-pu in. And outside the little candle-end sat and guttered +by itself, till the wick fell overboard, and the flame kicked itself +out, leaving the studio in darkness and solitude to wait for the +growings of another dawn. + +It was full day before Tiki-pu reappeared; he came running down the +green path in great haste, jumped out of the frame on to the studio +floor, and began tidying up his own messes of the night, and the +apprentices' of the previous day. Only just in time did he have things +ready by the hour when his master and the others returned to their work. + +All that day they kept scratching their left ears, and could not think +why; but Tiki-pu knew, for he was saying over to himself all the things +that Wio-wani, the great painter, had been saying about them and their +precious productions. And as he ground their colours for them and washed +their brushes, and filled his famished little body with the breadcrumbs +they threw away, little they guessed from what an immeasurable distance +he looked down upon them all, and had Wio-wani's word for it tickling +his right ear all the day long. + +Now before long Tiki-pu's master noticed a change in him; and though he +bullied him, and thrashed him, and did all that a careful master should +do, he could not get the change out of him. So in a short while he grew +suspicious. "What is the boy up to?" he wondered. "I have my eye on him +all day: it must be at night that he gets into mischief." + +It did not take Tiki-pu's master a night's watching to find that +something surreptitious was certainly going on. When it was dark he took +up his post outside the studio, to see whether by any chance Tiki-pu had +some way of getting out; and before long he saw a faint light showing +through the window. So he came and thrust his finger softly through one +of the panes, and put his eye to the hole. + +There inside was a candle burning on a stand, and Tiki-pu squatting with +paint-pots and brush in front of Wio-wani's last masterpiece. + +"What fine piece of burglary is this?" thought he; "what serpent have I +been harbouring in my bosom? Is this beast of a grub of a boy thinking +to make himself a painter and cut me out of my reputation and +prosperity?" For even at that distance he could perceive plainly that +the work of this boy went head and shoulders beyond his, or that of any +painter then living. + +Presently Wio-wani opened his door and came down the path, as was his +habit now each night, to call Tiki-pu to his lesson. He advanced to the +front of his picture and beckoned for Tiki-pu to come in with him; and +Tiki-pu's master grew clammy at the knees as he beheld Tiki-pu catch +hold of Wio-wani's hand and jump into the picture, and skip up the +green path by Wio-wani's side, and in through the little door that +Wio-wani had painted so beautifully in the end wall of his palace! + +For a time Tiki-pu's master stood glued to the spot with grief and +horror. "Oh, you deadly little underling! Oh, you poisonous little +caretaker, you parasite, you vampire, you fly in amber!" cried he, "is +that where you get your training? Is it there that you dare to go +trespassing; into a picture that I purchased for my own pleasure and +profit, and not at all for yours? Very soon we will see whom it really +belongs to!" + +He ripped out the paper of the largest window-pane and pushed his way +through into the studio. Then in great haste he took up paint-pot and +brush, and sacrilegiously set himself to work upon Wio-wani's last +masterpiece. In the place of the doorway by which Tiki-pu had entered he +painted a solid brick wall; twice over he painted it, making it two +bricks thick; brick by brick he painted it, and mortared every brick to +its place. And when he had quite finished he laughed, and called +"Good-night, Tiki-pu!" and went home to be quite happy. + +The next day all the apprentices were wondering what had become of +Tiki-pu; but as the master himself said nothing, and as another boy came +to act as colour-grinder and brush-washer to the establishment, they +very soon forgot all about him. + +In the studio the master used to sit at work with his students all about +him, and a mind full of ease and contentment. Now and then he would +throw a glance across to the bricked-up doorway of Wio-wani's palace, +and laugh to himself, thinking how well he had served out Tiki-pu for +his treachery and presumption. + +One day--it was five years after the disappearance of Tiki-pu--he was +giving his apprentices a lecture on the glories and the beauties and the +wonders of Wio-wani's painting--how nothing for colour could excel, or +for mystery could equal it. To add point to his eloquence, he stood +waving his hands before Wio-wani's last masterpiece, and all his +students and apprentices sat round him and looked. + +Suddenly he stopped at mid-word, and broke off in the full flight of his +eloquence, as he saw something like a hand come and take down the top +brick from the face of paint which he had laid over the little door in +the palace-wall which Wio-wani had so beautifully painted. In another +moment there was no doubt about it; brick by brick the wall was being +pulled down, in spite of its double thickness. + +The lecturer was altogether too dumbfounded and terrified to utter a +word. He and all his apprentices stood round and stared while the +demolition of the wall proceeded. Before long he recognised Wio-wani +with his flowing white beard; it was his handiwork, this pulling down of +the wall! He still had a brick in his hand when he stepped through the +opening that he had made, and close after him stepped Tiki-pu! + +[Illustration] + +Tiki-pu was grown tall and strong--he was even handsome; but for all +that his old master recognised him, and saw with an envious foreboding +that under his arms he carried many rolls and stretchers and portfolios, +and other belongings of his craft. Clearly Tiki-pu was coming back +into the world, and was going to be a great painter. + +Down the garden path came Wio-wani, and Tiki-pu walked after him; +Tiki-pu was so tall that his head stood well over Wio-wani's +shoulders--old man and young man together made a handsome pair. + +How big Wio-wani grew as he walked down the avenues of his garden and +into the foreground of his picture! and how big the brick in his hand! +and ah, how angry he seemed! + +Wio-wani came right down to the edge of the picture-frame and held up +the brick. "What did you do that for?" he asked. + +"I ... didn't!" Tiki-pu's old master was beginning to reply; and the lie +was still rolling on his tongue when the weight of the brick-bat, hurled +by the stout arm of Wio-wani, felled him. After that he never spoke +again. That brick-bat, which he himself had reared, became his own +tombstone. + +Just inside the picture-frame stood Tiki-pu, kissing the wonderful hands +of Wio-wani, which had taught him all their skill. "Good-bye, Tiki-pu!" +said Wio-wani, embracing him tenderly. "Now I am sending my second self +into the world. When you are tired and want rest come back to me: old +Wio-wani will take you in." + +Tiki-pu was sobbing and the tears were running down his cheeks as he +stepped out of Wio-wani's wonderfully painted garden and stood once more +upon earth. Turning, he saw the old man walking away along the path +towards the little door under the palace-wall. At the door Wio-wani +turned back and waved his hand for the last time. Tiki-pu still stood +watching him. Then the door opened and shut, and Wio-wani was gone. +Softly as a flower the picture seemed to have folded its leaves over +him. + +Tiki-pu leaned a wet face against the picture and kissed the door in the +palace-wall which Wio-wani had painted so beautifully. "O Wio-wani, dear +master," he cried, "are you there?" + +He waited, and called again, but no voice answered him. + + + + +HAPPY RETURNS + + +BY the side of a great river, whose stream formed the boundary to two +countries, lived an old ferryman and his wife. All the day, while she +minded the house, he sat in his boat by the ferry, waiting to carry +travellers across; or, when no travellers came, and he had his boat +free, he would cast drag-nets along the bed of the river for fish. But +for the food which he was able thus to procure at times, he and his wife +might well have starved, for travellers were often few and far between, +and often they grudged him the few pence he asked for ferrying them; and +now he had grown so old and feeble that when the river was in flood he +could scarcely ferry the boat across; and continually he feared lest a +younger and stronger man should come and take his place, and the bread +from his mouth. + +But he had trust in Providence. "Will not God," he said, "who has given +us no happiness in this life, save in each other's help and +companionship, allow us to end our days in peace?" + +And his wife answered, "Yes, surely, if we trust Him enough He will." + +One morning, it being the first day of the year, the ferryman going down +to his boat, found that during the night it had been loosed from its +moorings and taken across the river, where it now lay fastened to the +further bank. + +"Wife," said he "I can remember this same thing happening a year ago, +and the year before also. Who is this traveller who comes once a year, +like a thief in the night, and crosses without asking me to ferry him +over?" + +"Perhaps it is the good folk," said his wife. "Go over and see if they +have left no coin behind them in the boat." + +The old man got on to a log and poled himself across, and found, down in +the keel of the boat, the mark of a man's bare foot driven deep into the +wood; but there was no coin or other trace to show who it might be. + +Time went on; the old ferryman was all bowed down with age, and his body +was racked with pains. So slow was he now in making the passage of the +stream, that all travellers who knew those parts took a road higher up +the bank, where a stronger ferryman plied. + +Winter came; and hunger and want pressed hard at the old man's door. One +day while he drew his net along the stream, he felt the shock of a great +fish striking against the meshes down below, and presently, as the net +came in, he saw a shape like living silver, leaping and darting to and +fro to find some way of escape. Up to the bank he landed it, a great +gasping fish. + +When he was about to kill it, he saw, to his astonishment, tears running +out of its eyes, that gazed at him and seemed to reproach him for his +cruelty. As he drew back, the Fish said: "Why should you kill me, who +wish to live?" + +The old man, altogether bewildered at hearing himself thus addressed, +answered: "Since I and my wife are hungry, and God gave you to be +eaten, I have good reason for killing you." + +"I could give you something worth far more than a meal," said the Fish, +"if you would spare my life." + +"We are old," said the ferryman, "and want only to end our days in +peace. To-day we are hungry; what can be more good for us than a meal +which will give us strength for the morrow, which is the new year?" + +The Fish said: "To-night someone will come and unfasten your boat, and +ferry himself over, and you know nothing of it till the morning, when +you see the craft moored out yonder by the further bank." + +The old man remembered how the thing had happened in previous years, +directly the Fish spoke. "Ah, you know that then! How is it?" he asked. + +"When you go back to your hut at night to sleep, I am here in the +water," said the Fish. "I see what goes on." + +"What goes on, then?" asked the old man, very curious to know who the +strange traveller might be. + +"Ah," said the Fish, "if you could only catch him in your boat, he could +give you something you might wish for! I tell you this: do you and your +wife keep watch in the boat all night, and when he comes, and you have +ferried him into mid-stream, where he cannot escape, then throw your net +over him and hold him till he pays you for all your ferryings." + +"How shall he pay me? All my ferryings of a lifetime!" + +"Make him take you to the land of Returning Time. There, at least, you +can end your days in peace." + +The old man said: "You have told me a strange thing; and since I mean to +act on it, I suppose I must let you go. If you have deceived me, I trust +you may yet die a cruel death." + +The Fish answered: "Do as I tell you, and you shall die a happy one." +And, saying this he slipped down into the water and disappeared. + +The ferryman went back to his wife supperless, and said to her: "Wife, +bring a net, and come down into the boat!" And he told her the story of +the Fish and of the yearly traveller. + +They sat long together under the dark bank, looking out over the quiet +and cold moonlit waters, till the midnight hour. The air was chill, and +to keep themselves warm they covered themselves over with the net and +lay down in the bottom of the boat. It was the very hour when the old +year dies and the new year is born. + +Before they well knew that they had been asleep, they started to feel +the rocking of the boat, and found themselves out upon the broad waters +of the river. And there in the fore-part of the boat, clear and +sparkling in the moonlight, stood a naked man of shining silver. He was +bending upon the pole of the boat, and his long hair fell over it right +down into the water. + +The old couple rose up quietly, and unwinding themselves from the net, +threw it over the Silver Man, over his head and hands and feet, and +dragged him down into the bottom of the boat. + +[Illustration] + +The old man caught the ferry pole, and heaved the boat still into the +middle of the stream. As he did so a gentle shock came to the heart of +each; feebly it fluttered and sank low. "Oh, wife!" sighed the old man, +and reached out his hand for hers. + +The Silver Man lay still in the folds of the net, and looked at them +with a wise and quiet gaze. "What would you have of me?" he said, and +his voice was far off and low. + +They said, "Bring us into the land of Returning Time." + +The Silver Man said: "Only once can you go there, and once return." + +They both answered "We wish once to go there, and once return." + +So he promised them that they should have the whole of their request; +and they unloosed him from the net, and landed altogether on the further +bank. + +Up the hill they went, following the track of the Silver Man. Presently +they reached its crest; and there before them lay all the howling winter +of the world. + +The Silver Man turned his face and looked back; and looking back it +became all young, and ruddy, and bright. The ferryman and his wife gazed +at him, both speechless at the wonderful change. He took their hands, +making them turn the way by which they had come; below their feet was a +deep black gulf, and beyond and away lay nothing but a dark starless +hollow of air. + +"Now," said their guide, "you have but to step forward one step, and you +shall be in the land of Returning Time." + +They loosed hold of his hands, joined clasp, husband with wife, and at +one step upon what seemed gulf beneath their feet, found themselves in a +green and flowery land. There were perfumed valleys and grassy hills, +whose crops stretched down before the breeze; thick fleecy clouds +crossed their tops, and overhead amid a blue air rang the shrill +trilling of birds. Behind lay, fading mistily as a dream, the bare world +they had left; and fast on his forward road, growing small to them from +a distance, went the Silver Man, a shining point on the horizon. + +The ferryman and his wife looked, and saw youth in each other's faces +beginning to peep out through the furrows of age; each step they took +made them grow younger and stronger; years fell from them like worn-out +rags as they went down into the valleys of the land of Returning Time. + +How fast Time returned! Each step made the change of a day, and every +mile brought them five years back towards youth. When they came down to +the streams that ran in the bed of each valley, the ferryman and his +wife felt their prime return to them. He saw the gold come back into her +locks, and she the brown into his. Their lips became open to laughter +and song. "Oh, how good," they cried, "to have lived all our lives poor, +to come at last to this!" + +They drank water out of the streams, and tasted the fruit from the trees +that grew over them; till presently, being tired for mere joy, they lay +down in the grass to rest. They slept hand within hand and cheek against +cheek, and, when they woke, found themselves quite young again, just at +the age when they were first married in the years gone by. + +The ferryman started up and felt the desire of life strong in his blood. +"Come!" he said to his wife, "or we shall become too young with +lingering here. Now we have regained our youth, let us go back into the +world once more!" + +His wife hung upon his hand, "Are we not happy enough," she asked, "as +it is? Why should we return?" + +"But," he cried, "we shall grow too young; now we have youth and life at +its best let us return! Time goes too fast with us; we are in danger of +it carrying us away." + +She said no further word, but followed up towards the way by which they +had entered. And yet, in spite of her wish to remain, as she went her +young blood frisked. Presently coming to the top of a hill, they set off +running and racing; at the bottom they looked at each other, and saw +themselves boy and girl once more. + +"We have stayed here too long!" said the ferryman, and pressed on. + +"Oh, the birds," sighed she, "and the flowers, and the grassy hills to +run on, we are leaving behind!" But still the boy had the wish for a +man's life again, and urged her on; and still with every step they grew +younger and younger. At length, two small children, they came to the +border of that enchanted land, and saw beyond the world bleak and wintry +and without leaf. Only a further step was wanted to bring them face to +face once more with the hard battle of life. + +Tears rose in the child-wife's eyes: "If we go," she said, "we can never +return!" Her husband looked long at her wistful face; he, too, was more +of a child now, and was forgetting his wish to be a man again. + +He took hold of her hand and turned round with her, and together they +faced once more the flowery orchards, and the happy watered valleys. + +Away down there light streams tinkled, and birds called. Downwards they +went, slowly at first, then with dancing feet, as with shoutings and +laughter they ran. + +Down into the level fields they ran; their running was turned to a +toddling; their toddling to a tumbling; their tumbling to a slow crawl +upon hands and feet among the high grass and flowers; till at last they +were lying side by side, curled up into a cuddly ball, chuckling and +dimpling and crowing to the insects and birds that passed over them. + +Then they heard the sweet laughter of Father Time; and over the hill he +came, young, ruddy, and shining, and gathered them up sound asleep on +the old boat by the ferry. + + + _Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., + London and Aylesbury._ + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors repaired. + +Page 35, "ful" changed to "full" (struck him full) + +Page 61, "you" changed to "your" (laid your moon-children) + +Page 83, "thing sat" changed to "things at (two things at the) + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Moonshine & Clover, by Laurence Housman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOONSHINE & CLOVER *** + +***** This file should be named 34852.txt or 34852.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/5/34852/ + +Produced by Beginners Projects, Suzanne Shell, Emmy and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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