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diff --git a/36612.txt b/36612.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..937b9a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/36612.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6618 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Princess and Curdie, by George MacDonald, +Illustrated by James Allen + + +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: The Princess and Curdie + + +Author: George MacDonald + + + +Release Date: July 4, 2011 [eBook #36612] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE*** + + +E-text prepared by Matthew Wheaton, Suzanne Shell, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images +generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 36612-h.htm or 36612-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36612/36612-h/36612-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36612/36612-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/princesscurdie00macdiala + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics). + + Text in bold face is enclosed by equal signs (=bold=). + + Text that was in small capitals is in upper case (LIKE + THIS). + + + + + +[Illustration: _Frontispiece. "Come in, Curdie," said the voice._] + + +THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE + +by + +GEORGE MACDONALD, LL.D + +With Eleven Illustrations by James Allen + + + + + + + +Philadelphia: +J. B. Lippincott & Co. +1883. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + CHAP. + + I. THE MOUNTAIN + + II. THE WHITE PIGEON + + III. THE MISTRESS OF THE SILVER MOON + + IV. CURDIE'S FATHER AND MOTHER + + V. THE MINERS + + VI. THE EMERALD + + VII. WHAT IS IN A NAME? + + VIII. CURDIE'S MISSION + + IX. HANDS + + X. THE HEATH + + XI. LINA + + XII. MORE CREATURES + + XIII. THE BAKER'S WIFE + + XIV. THE DOGS OF GWYNTYSTORM + + XV. DERBA AND BARBARA + + XVI. THE MATTOCK + + XVII. THE WINE CELLAR + + XVIII. THE KING'S KITCHEN + + XIX. THE KING'S CHAMBER + + XX. COUNTER-PLOTTING + + XXI. THE LOAF + + XXII. THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN + + XXIII. DR. KELMAN + + XXIV. THE PROPHECY + + XXV. THE AVENGERS + + XXVI. THE VENGEANCE + + XXVII. MORE VENGEANCE + + XXVIII. THE PREACHER + + XXIX. BARBARA + + XXX. PETER + + XXXI. THE SACRIFICE + + XXXII. THE KING'S ARMY + + XXXIII. THE BATTLE + + XXXIV. JUDGMENT + + XXXV. THE END + + + + +THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE MOUNTAIN. + + +Curdie was the son of Peter the miner. He lived with his father and +mother in a cottage built on a mountain, and he worked with his father +inside the mountain. + +A mountain is a strange and awful thing. In old times, without knowing +so much of their strangeness and awfulness as we do, people were yet +more afraid of mountains. But then somehow they had not come to see how +beautiful they are as well as awful, and they hated them,--and what +people hate they must fear. Now that we have learned to look at them +with admiration, perhaps we do not always feel quite awe enough of them. +To me they are beautiful terrors. + +I will try to tell you what they are. They are portions of the heart of +the earth that have escaped from the dungeon down below, and rushed up +and out. For the heart of the earth is a great wallowing mass, not of +blood, as in the hearts of men and animals, but of glowing hot melted +metals and stones. And as our hearts keep us alive, so that great lump +of heat keeps the earth alive: it is a huge power of buried +sunlight--that is what it is. Now think: out of that caldron, where all +the bubbles would be as big as the Alps if it could get room for its +boiling, certain bubbles have bubbled out and escaped--up and away, and +there they stand in the cool, cold sky--mountains. Think of the change, +and you will no more wonder that there should be something awful about +the very look of a mountain: from the darkness--for where the light has +nothing to shine upon, it is much the same as darkness--from the heat, +from the endless tumult of boiling unrest--up, with a sudden heavenward +shoot, into the wind, and the cold, and the starshine, and a cloak of +snow that lies like ermine above the blue-green mail of the glaciers; +and the great sun, their grandfather, up there in the sky; and their +little old cold aunt, the moon, that comes wandering about the house at +night; and everlasting stillness, except for the wind that turns the +rocks and caverns into a roaring organ for the young archangels that +are studying how to let out the pent-up praises of their hearts, and the +molten music of the streams, rushing ever from the bosoms of the +glaciers fresh-born. Think too of the change in their own substance--no +longer molten and soft, heaving and glowing, but hard and shining and +cold. Think of the creatures scampering over and burrowing in it, and +the birds building their nests upon it, and the trees growing out of its +sides, like hair to clothe it, and the lovely grass in the valleys, and +the gracious flowers even at the very edge of its armour of ice, like +the rich embroidery of the garment below, and the rivers galloping down +the valleys in a tumult of white and green! And along with all these, +think of the terrible precipices down which the traveller may fall and +be lost, and the frightful gulfs of blue air cracked in the glaciers, +and the dark profound lakes, covered like little arctic oceans with +floating lumps of ice. All this outside the mountain! But the inside, +who shall tell what lies there? Caverns of awfullest solitude, their +walls miles thick, sparkling with ores of gold or silver, copper or +iron, tin or mercury, studded perhaps with precious stones--perhaps a +brook, with eyeless fish in it, running, running ceaseless, cold and +babbling, through banks crusted with carbuncles and golden topazes, or +over a gravel of which some of the stones are rubies and emeralds, +perhaps diamonds and sapphires--who can tell?--and whoever can't tell +is free to think--all waiting to flash, waiting for millions of +ages--ever since the earth flew off from the sun, a great blot of fire, +and began to cool. Then there are caverns full of water, numbing cold, +fiercely hot--hotter than any boiling water. From some of these the +water cannot get out, and from others it runs in channels as the blood +in the body: little veins bring it down from the ice above into the +great caverns of the mountain's heart, whence the arteries let it out +again, gushing in pipes and clefts and ducts of all shapes and kinds, +through and through its bulk, until it springs newborn to the light, and +rushes down the mountain side in torrents, and down the valleys in +rivers--down, down, rejoicing, to the mighty lungs of the world, that is +the sea, where it is tossed in storms and cyclones, heaved up in +billows, twisted in waterspouts, dashed to mist upon rocks, beaten by +millions of tails, and breathed by millions of gills, whence at last, +melted into vapour by the sun, it is lifted up pure into the air, and +borne by the servant winds back to the mountain tops and the snow, the +solid ice, and the molten stream. + +Well, when the heart of the earth has thus come rushing up among her +children, bringing with it gifts of all that she possesses, then +straightway into it rush her children to see what they can find there. +With pickaxe and spade and crowbar, with boring chisel and blasting +powder, they force their way back: is it to search for what toys they +may have left in their long-forgotten nurseries? Hence the mountains +that lift their heads into the clear air, and are dotted over with the +dwellings of men, are tunnelled and bored in the darkness of their +bosoms by the dwellers in the houses which they hold up to the sun and +air. + +Curdie and his father were of these: their business was to bring to +light hidden things; they sought silver in the rock and found it, and +carried it out. Of the many other precious things in their mountain they +knew little or nothing. Silver ore was what they were sent to find, and +in darkness and danger they found it. But oh, how sweet was the air on +the mountain face when they came out at sunset to go home to wife and +mother! They did breathe deep then! + +The mines belonged to the king of the country, and the miners were his +servants, working under his overseers and officers. He was a real +king--that is one who ruled for the good of his people, and not to +please himself, and he wanted the silver not to buy rich things for +himself, but to help him to govern the country, and pay the armies that +defended it from certain troublesome neighbours, and the judges whom he +set to portion out righteousness amongst the people, that so they might +learn it themselves, and come to do without judges at all. Nothing that +could be got from the heart of the earth could have been put to better +purposes than the silver the king's miners got for him. There were +people in the country who, when it came into their hands, degraded it by +locking it up in a chest, and then it grew diseased and was called +_mammon_, and bred all sorts of quarrels; but when first it left the +king's hands it never made any but friends, and the air of the world +kept it clean. + +About a year before this story began, a series of very remarkable events +had just ended. I will narrate as much of them as will serve to show the +tops of the roots of my tree. + +Upon the mountain, on one of its many claws, stood a grand old house, +half farmhouse, half castle, belonging to the king; and there his only +child, the Princess Irene, had been brought up till she was nearly nine +years old, and would doubtless have continued much longer, but for the +strange events to which I have referred. + +At that time the hollow places of the mountain were inhabited by +creatures called goblins, who for various reasons and in various ways +made themselves troublesome to all, but to the little princess +dangerous. Mainly by the watchful devotion and energy of Curdie, +however, their designs had been utterly defeated, and made to recoil +upon themselves to their own destruction, so that now there were very +few of them left alive, and the miners did not believe there was a +single goblin remaining in the whole inside of the mountain. + +The king had been so pleased with the boy--then approaching thirteen +years of age--that when he carried away his daughter he asked him to +accompany them; but he was still better pleased with him when he found +that he preferred staying with his father and mother. He was a right +good king, and knew that the love of a boy who would not leave his +father and mother to be made a great man, was worth ten thousand offers +to die for his sake, and would prove so when the right time came. For +his father and mother, they would have given him up without a grumble, +for they were just as good as the king, and he and they perfectly +understood each other; but in this matter, not seeing that he could do +anything for the king which one of his numerous attendants could not do +as well, Curdie felt that it was for him to decide. So the king took a +kind farewell of them all and rode away, with his daughter on his horse +before him. + +A gloom fell upon the mountain and the miners when she was gone, and +Curdie did not whistle for a whole week. As for his verses, there was no +occasion to make any now. He had made them only to drive away the +goblins, and they were all gone--a good riddance--only the princess was +gone too! He would rather have had things as they were, except for the +princess's sake. But whoever is diligent will soon be cheerful, and +though the miners missed the household of the castle, they yet managed +to get on without them. + +Peter and his wife, however, were troubled with the fancy that they had +stood in the way of their boy's good fortune. It would have been such a +fine thing for him and them too, they thought, if he had ridden with the +good king's train. How beautiful he looked, they said, when he rode the +king's own horse through the river that the goblins had sent out of the +hill! He might soon have been a captain, they did believe! The good, +kind people did not reflect that the road to the next duty is the only +straight one, or that, for their fancied good, we should never wish our +children or friends to do what we would not do ourselves if we were in +their position. We must accept righteous sacrifices as well as make +them. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE WHITE PIGEON. + + +When in the winter they had had their supper and sat about the fire, or +when in the summer they lay on the border of the rock-margined stream +that ran through their little meadow, close by the door of their +cottage, issuing from the far-up whiteness often folded in clouds, +Curdie's mother would not seldom lead the conversation to one peculiar +personage said and believed to have been much concerned in the late +issue of events. That personage was the great-great-grandmother of the +princess, of whom the princess had often talked, but whom neither Curdie +nor his mother had ever seen. Curdie could indeed remember, although +already it looked more like a dream than he could account for if it had +really taken place, how the princess had once led him up many stairs to +what she called a beautiful room in the top of the tower, where she went +through all the--what should he call it?--the behaviour of presenting +him to her grandmother, talking now to her and now to him, while all the +time he saw nothing but a bare garret, a heap of musty straw, a sunbeam, +and a withered apple. Lady, he would have declared before the king +himself, young or old, there was none, except the princess herself, who +was certainly vexed that he could not see what she at least believed she +saw. And for his mother, she had once seen, long before Curdie was born, +a certain mysterious light of the same description with one Irene spoke +of, calling it her grandmother's moon; and Curdie himself had seen this +same light, shining from above the castle, just as the king and princess +were taking their leave. Since that time neither had seen or heard +anything that could be supposed connected with her. Strangely enough, +however, nobody had seen her go away. If she was such an old lady, she +could hardly be supposed to have set out alone and on foot when all the +house was asleep. Still, away she must have gone, for of course, if she +was so powerful, she would always be about the princess to take care of +her. + +But as Curdie grew older, he doubted more and more whether Irene had not +been talking of some dream she had taken for reality: he had heard it +said that children could not always distinguish betwixt dreams and +actual events. At the same time there was his mother's testimony: what +was he to do with that? His mother, through whom he had learned +everything, could hardly be imagined by her own dutiful son to have +mistaken a dream for a fact of the waking world. So he rather shrunk +from thinking about it, and the less he thought about it, the less he +was inclined to believe it when he did think about it, and therefore, of +course, the less inclined to talk about it to his father and mother; for +although his father was one of those men who for one word they say think +twenty thoughts, Curdie was well assured that he would rather doubt his +own eyes than his wife's testimony. There were no others to whom he +could have talked about it. The miners were a mingled company--some +good, some not so good, some rather bad--none of them so bad or so good +as they might have been; Curdie liked most of them, and was a favourite +with all; but they knew very little about the upper world, and what +might or might not take place there. They knew silver from copper ore; +they understood the underground ways of things, and they could look very +wise with their lanterns in their hands searching after this or that +sign of ore, or for some mark to guide their way in the hollows of the +earth; but as to great-great-grandmothers, they would have mocked him +all the rest of his life for the absurdity of not being absolutely +certain that the solemn belief of his father and mother was +nothing but ridiculous nonsense. Why, to them the very word +"great-great-grandmother" would have been a week's laughter! I am not +sure that they were able quite to believe there were such persons as +great-great-grandmothers; they had never seen one. They were not +companions to give the best of help towards progress, and as Curdie +grew, he grew at this time faster in body than in mind--with the usual +consequence, that he was getting rather stupid--one of the chief signs +of which was that he believed less and less of things he had never seen. +At the same time I do not think he was ever so stupid as to imagine that +this was a sign of superior faculty and strength of mind. Still, he was +becoming more and more a miner, and less and less a man of the upper +world where the wind blew. On his way to and from the mine he took less +and less notice of bees and butterflies, moths and dragon-flies, the +flowers and the brooks and the clouds. He was gradually changing into a +commonplace man. There is this difference between the growth of some +human beings and that of others: in the one case it is a continuous +dying, in the other a continuous resurrection. One of the latter sort +comes at length to know at once whether a thing is true the moment it +comes before him; one of the former class grows more and more afraid of +being taken in, so afraid of it that he takes himself in altogether, and +comes at length to believe in nothing but his dinner: to be sure of a +thing with him is to have it between his teeth. Curdie was not in a very +good way then at that time. His father and mother had, it is true, no +fault to find with him--and yet--and yet--neither of them was ready to +sing when the thought of him came up. There must be something wrong when +a mother catches herself sighing over the time when her boy was in +petticoats, or the father looks sad when he thinks how he used to carry +him on his shoulder. The boy should enclose and keep, as his life, the +old child at the heart of him, and never let it go. He must still, to be +a right man, be his mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and +more. The child is not meant to die, but to be for ever fresh-born. + +Curdie had made himself a bow and some arrows, and was teaching himself +to shoot with them. One evening in the early summer, as he was walking +home from the mine with them in his hand, a light flashed across his +eyes. He looked, and there was a snow-white pigeon settling on a rock in +front of him, in the red light of the level sun. There it fell at once +to work with one of its wings, in which a feather or two had got some +sprays twisted, causing a certain roughness unpleasant to the fastidious +creature of the air. It was indeed a lovely being, and Curdie thought +how happy it must be flitting through the air with a flash--a live bolt +of light. For a moment he became so one with the bird that he seemed to +feel both its bill and its feathers, as the one adjusted the other to +fly again, and his heart swelled with the pleasure of its involuntary +sympathy. Another moment and it would have been aloft in the waves of +rosy light--it was just bending its little legs to spring: that moment +it fell on the path broken-winged and bleeding from Curdie's cruel +arrow. With a gush of pride at his skill, and pleasure at its success, +he ran to pick up his prey. I must say for him he picked it up +gently--perhaps it was the beginning of his repentance. But when he had +the white thing in his hands--its whiteness stained with another red +than that of the sunset flood in which it had been revelling--ah God! +who knows the joy of a bird, the ecstasy of a creature that has neither +storehouse nor barn!--when he held it, I say, in his victorious hands, +the winged thing looked up in his face--and with such eyes! asking what +was the matter, and where the red sun had gone, and the clouds, and the +wind of its flight. Then they closed, but to open again presently, with +the same questions in them. And so they closed and opened several times, +but always when they opened, their look was fixed on his. It did not +once flutter or try to get away; it only throbbed and bled and looked at +him. Curdie's heart began to grow very large in his bosom. What could it +mean? It was nothing but a pigeon, and why should he not kill a +pigeon? But the fact was, that not till this very moment had he ever +known what a pigeon was. A good many discoveries of a similar kind have +to be made by most of us. Once more it opened its eyes--then closed them +again, and its throbbing ceased. Curdie gave a sob: its last look +reminded him of the princess--he did not know why. He remembered how +hard he had laboured to set her beyond danger, and yet what dangers she +had had to encounter for his sake: they had been saviours to each +other--and what had he done now? He had stopped saving, and had begun +killing! What had he been sent into the world for? Surely not to be a +death to its joy and loveliness. He had done the thing that was contrary +to gladness; he was a destroyer! He was not the Curdie he had been meant +to be! Then the underground waters gushed from the boy's heart. And with +the tears came the remembrance that a white pigeon, just before the +princess went away with her father, came from somewhere--yes, from the +grandmother's lamp, and flew round the king and Irene and himself, and +then flew away: this might be that very pigeon! Horrible to think! And +if it wasn't, yet it was a white pigeon, the same as it. And if she kept +a great many pigeons--and white ones, as Irene had told him, then whose +pigeon could he have killed but the grand old princess's? Suddenly +everything round about him seemed against him. The red sunset stung +him: the rocks frowned at him; the sweet wind that had been laving his +face as he walked up the hill, dropped--as if he wasn't fit to be kissed +any more. Was the whole world going to cast him out? Would he have to +stand there for ever, not knowing what to do, with the dead pigeon in +his hand? Things looked bad indeed. Was the whole world going to make a +work about a pigeon--a white pigeon? The sun went down. Great clouds +gathered over the west, and shortened the twilight. The wind gave a +howl, and then lay down again. The clouds gathered thicker. Then came a +rumbling. He thought it was thunder. It was a rock that fell inside the +mountain. A goat ran past him down the hill, followed by a dog sent to +fetch him home. He thought they were goblin creatures, and trembled. He +used to despise them. And still he held the dead pigeon tenderly in his +hand. It grew darker and darker. An evil something began to move in his +heart. "What a fool I am!" he said to himself. Then he grew angry, and +was just going to throw the bird from him and whistle, when a brightness +shone all round him. He lifted his eyes, and saw a great globe of +light--like silver at the hottest heat: he had once seen silver run from +the furnace. It shone from somewhere above the roofs of the castle: it +must be the great old princess's moon! How could she be there? Of +course she was not there! He had asked the whole household, and nobody +knew anything about her or her globe either. It couldn't be! And yet +what did that signify, when there was the white globe shining, and here +was the dead white bird in his hand? That moment the pigeon gave a +little flutter. "_It's not dead!_" cried Curdie, almost with a shriek. +The same instant he was running full speed towards the castle, never +letting his heels down, lest he should shake the poor wounded bird. + +[Illustration: "_That moment the pigeon fell on the path, broken-winged +and bleeding._"] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE MISTRESS OF THE SILVER MOON. + + +When Curdie reached the castle, and ran into the little garden in front +of it, there stood the door wide open. This was as he had hoped, for +what could he have said if he had had to knock at it? Those whose +business it is to open doors, so often mistake and shut them! But the +woman now in charge often puzzled herself greatly to account for the +strange fact that however often she shut the door, which, like the rest, +she took a great deal of unnecessary trouble to do, she was certain, the +next time she went to it, to find it open. I speak now of the great +front door, of course: the back door she as persistently kept wide: if +people _could_ only go in by that, she said, she would then know what +sort they were, and what they wanted. But she would neither have known +what sort Curdie was, nor what he wanted, and would assuredly have +denied him admittance, for she knew nothing of who was in the tower. So +the front door was left open for him, and in he walked. + +But where to go next he could not tell. It was not quite dark: a dull, +shineless twilight filled the place. All he knew was that he must go up, +and that proved enough for the present, for there he saw the great +staircase rising before him. When he reached the top of it, he knew +there must be more stairs yet, for he could not be near the top of the +tower. Indeed by the situation of the stair, he must be a good way from +the tower itself. But those who work well in the depths more easily +understand the heights, for indeed in their true nature they are one and +the same: mines are in mountains; and Curdie from knowing the ways of +the king's mines, and being able to calculate his whereabouts in them, +was now able to find his way about the king's house. He knew its outside +perfectly, and now his business was to get his notion of the inside +right with the outside. So he shut his eyes and made a picture of the +outside of it in his mind. Then he came in at the door of the picture, +and yet kept the picture before him all the time--for you can do that +kind of thing in your mind,--and took every turn of the stair over +again, always watching to remember, every time he turned his face, how +the tower lay, and then when he came to himself at the top where he +stood, he knew exactly where it was, and walked at once in the right +direction. On his way, however, he came to another stair, and up that he +went of course, watching still at every turn how the tower must lie. At +the top of this stair was yet another--they were the stairs up which the +princess ran when first, without knowing it, she was on her way to find +her great-great-grandmother. At the top of the second stair he could go +no farther, and must therefore set out again to find the tower, which, +as it rose far above the rest of the house, must have the last of its +stairs inside itself. Having watched every turn to the very last, he +still knew quite well in what direction he must go to find it, so he +left the stair and went down a passage that led, if not exactly towards +it, yet nearer it. This passage was rather dark, for it was very long, +with only one window at the end, and although there were doors on both +sides of it, they were all shut. At the distant window glimmered the +chill east, with a few feeble stars in it, and its light was dreary and +old, growing brown, and looking as if it were thinking about the day +that was just gone. Presently he turned into another passage, which also +had a window at the end of it; and in at that window shone all that was +left of the sunset, a few ashes, with here and there a little touch of +warmth: it was nearly as sad as the east, only there was one +difference--it was very plainly thinking of to-morrow. But at present +Curdie had nothing to do with to-day or to-morrow; his business was +with the bird, and the tower where dwelt the grand old princess to whom +it belonged. So he kept on his way, still eastward, and came to yet +another passage, which brought him to a door. He was afraid to open it +without first knocking. He knocked, but heard no answer. He was answered +nevertheless; for the door gently opened, and there was a narrow +stair--and so steep that, big lad as he was, he too, like the Princess +Irene before him, found his hands needful for the climbing. And it was a +long climb, but he reached the top at last--a little landing, with a +door in front and one on each side. Which should he knock at? + +As he hesitated, he heard the noise of a spinning-wheel. He knew it at +once, because his mother's spinning-wheel had been his governess long +ago, and still taught him things. It was the spinning-wheel that first +taught him to make verses, and to sing, and to think whether all was +right inside him; or at least it had helped him in all these things. +Hence it was no wonder he should know a spinning-wheel when he heard it +sing--even although as the bird of paradise to other birds was the song +of that wheel to the song of his mother's. + +He stood listening so entranced that he forgot to knock, and the wheel +went on and on, spinning in his brain songs and tales and rhymes, till +he was almost asleep as well as dreaming, for sleep does not _always_ +come first. But suddenly came the thought of the poor bird, which had +been lying motionless in his hand all the time, and that woke him up, +and at once he knocked. + +"Come in, Curdie," said a voice. + +Curdie shook. It was getting rather awful. The heart that had never much +heeded an army of goblins, trembled at the soft word of invitation. But +then there was the red-spotted white thing in his hand! He dared not +hesitate, though. Gently he opened the door through which the sound +came, and what did he see? Nothing at first--except indeed a great +sloping shaft of moonlight, that came in at a high window, and rested on +the floor. He stood and stared at it, forgetting to shut the door. + +"Why don't you come in, Curdie?" said the voice. "Did you never see +moonlight before?" + +"Never without a moon," answered Curdie, in a trembling tone, but +gathering courage. + +"Certainly not," returned the voice, which was thin and quavering: "_I_ +never saw moonlight without a moon." + +"But there's no moon outside," said Curdie. + +"Ah! but you're inside now," said the voice. + +The answer did not satisfy Curdie; but the voice went on. + +"There are more moons than you know of, Curdie. Where there is one sun +there are many moons--and of many sorts. Come in and look out of my +window, and you will soon satisfy yourself that there is a moon looking +in at it." + +The gentleness of the voice made Curdie remember his manners. He shut +the door, and drew a step or two nearer to the moonlight. + +All the time the sound of the spinning had been going on and on, and +Curdie now caught sight of the wheel. Oh, it was such a thin, delicate +thing--reminding him of a spider's web in a hedge! It stood in the +middle of the moonlight, and it seemed as if the moonlight had nearly +melted it away. A step nearer, he saw, with a start, two little hands at +work with it. And then at last, in the shadow on the other side of the +moonlight which came like a river between, he saw the form to which the +hands belonged: a small, withered creature, so old that no age would +have seemed too great to write under her picture, seated on a stool +beyond the spinning-wheel, which looked very large beside her, but, as I +said, very thin, like a long-legged spider holding up its own web, which +was the round wheel itself. She sat crumpled together, a filmy thing +that it seemed a puff would blow away, more like the body of a fly the +big spider had sucked empty and left hanging in his web, than anything +else I can think of. + +When Curdie saw her, he stood still again, a good deal in wonder, a very +little in reverence, a little in doubt, and, I must add, a little in +amusement at the odd look of the old marvel. Her grey hair mixed with +the moonlight so that he could not tell where the one began and the +other ended. Her crooked back bent forward over her chest, her shoulders +nearly swallowed up her head between them, and her two little hands were +just like the grey claws of a hen, scratching at the thread, which to +Curdie was of course invisible across the moonlight. Indeed Curdie +laughed within himself, just a little, at the sight; and when he thought +of how the princess used to talk about her huge great old grandmother, +he laughed more. But that moment the little lady leaned forward into the +moonlight, and Curdie caught a glimpse of her eyes, and all the laugh +went out of him. + +"What do you come here for, Curdie?" she said, as gently as before. + +Then Curdie remembered that he stood there as a culprit, and worst of +all, as one who had his confession yet to make. There was no time to +hesitate over it. + +"Oh, ma'am! see here," he said, and advanced a step or two, holding out +the dead pigeon. + +"What have you got there?" she asked. + +Again Curdie advanced a few steps, and held out his hand with the +pigeon, that she might see what it was, into the moonlight. The moment +the rays fell upon it the pigeon gave a faint flutter. The old lady put +out her old hands and took it, and held it to her bosom, and rocked it, +murmuring over it as if it were a sick baby. + +When Curdie saw how distressed she was he grew sorrier still, and +said,-- + +"I didn't mean to do any harm, ma'am. I didn't think of its being +yours." + +"Ah, Curdie! if it weren't mine, what would become of it now?" she +returned. "You say you didn't mean any harm: did you mean any good, +Curdie?" + +"No," answered Curdie. + +"Remember, then, that whoever does not mean good is always in danger of +harm. But I try to give everybody fair play; and those that are in the +wrong are in far more need of it always than those who are in the right: +they can afford to do without it. Therefore I say for you that when you +shot that arrow you did not know what a pigeon is. Now that you do know, +you are sorry. It is very dangerous to do things you don't know about." + +"But, please, ma'am--I don't mean to be rude or to contradict you," said +Curdie, "but if a body was never to do anything but what he knew to be +good, he would have to live half his time doing nothing." + +"There you are much mistaken," said the old quavering voice. "How little +you must have thought! Why, you don't seem even to know the good of the +things you are constantly doing. Now don't mistake me. I don't mean you +are good for doing them. It is a good thing to eat your breakfast, but +you don't fancy it's very good of you to do it. The thing is good--not +you." + +Curdie laughed. + +"There are a great many more good things than bad things to do. Now tell +me what bad thing you have done to-day besides this sore hurt to my +little white friend." + +While she talked Curdie had sunk into a sort of reverie, in which he +hardly knew whether it was the old lady or his own heart that spoke. And +when she asked him that question, he was at first much inclined to +consider himself a very good fellow on the whole. "I really don't think +I did anything else that was very bad all day," he said to himself. But +at the same time he could not honestly feel that he was worth standing +up for. All at once a light seemed to break in upon his mind, and he +woke up, and there was the withered little atomy of the old lady on the +other side of the moonlight, and there was the spinning-wheel singing on +and on in the middle of it! + +"I know now, ma'am; I understand now," he said. "Thank you, ma'am for +spinning it into me with your wheel. I see now that I have been doing +wrong the whole day, and such a many days besides! Indeed, I don't know +when I ever did right, and yet it seems as if I had done right some +time and had forgotten how. When I killed your bird I did not know I was +doing wrong, just because I was always doing wrong, and the wrong had +soaked all through me." + +"What wrong were you doing all day, Curdie? It is better to come to the +point, you know," said the old lady, and her voice was gentler even than +before. + +"I was doing the wrong of never wanting or trying to be better. And now +I see that I have been letting things go as they would for a long time. +Whatever came into my head I did, and whatever didn't come into my head +I didn't do. I never sent anything away, and never looked out for +anything to come. I haven't been attending to my mother--or my father +either. And now I think of it, I know I have often seen them looking +troubled, and I have never asked them what was the matter. And now I see +too that I did not ask because I suspected it had something to do with +me and my behaviour, and didn't want to hear the truth. And I know I +have been grumbling at my work, and doing a hundred other things that +are wrong." + +"You have got it, Curdie," said the old lady, in a voice that sounded +almost as if she had been crying. "When people don't care to be better +they must be doing everything wrong. I am so glad you shot my bird!" + +"Ma'am!" exclaimed Curdie. "How _can_ you be?" + +"Because it has brought you to see what sort you were when you did it, +and what sort you will grow to be again, only worse, if you don't mind. +Now that you are sorry, my poor bird will be better. Look up, my dovey." + +The pigeon gave a flutter, and spread out one of its red-spotted wings +across the old woman's bosom. + +"I will mend the little angel," she said, "and in a week or two it will +be flying again. So you may ease your heart about the pigeon." + +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" cried Curdie. "I don't know how to thank +you." + +"Then I will tell you. There is only one way I care for. Do better, and +grow better, and be better. And never kill anything without a good +reason for it." + +"Ma'am, I will go and fetch my bow and arrows, and you shall burn them +yourself." + +"I have no fire that would burn your bow and arrows, Curdie." + +"Then I promise you to burn them all under my mother's porridge-pot +to-morrow morning." + +"No, no, Curdie. Keep them, and practise with them every day, and grow a +good shot. There are plenty of bad things that want killing, and a day +will come when they will prove useful. But I must see first whether you +will do as I tell you." + +"That I will!" said Curdie. "What is it, ma'am?" + +"Only something not to do," answered the old lady; "if you should hear +any one speak about me, never to laugh or make fun of me." + +"Oh, ma'am!" exclaimed Curdie, shocked that she should think such a +request needful. + +"Stop, stop," she went on. "People hereabout sometimes tell very odd and +in fact ridiculous stories of an old woman who watches what is going on, +and occasionally interferes. They mean me, though what they say is often +great nonsense. Now what I want of you is not to laugh, or side with +them in any way; because they will take that to mean that you don't +believe there is any such person a bit more than they do. Now that would +not be the case--would it, Curdie?" + +"No indeed, ma'am. I've seen you." + +The old woman smiled very oddly. + +"Yes, you've seen me," she said. "But mind," she continued, "I don't +want you to say anything--only to hold your tongue, and not seem to side +with them." + +"That will be easy," said Curdie, "now that I've seen you with my very +own eyes, ma'am." + +"Not so easy as you think, perhaps," said the old lady, with another +curious smile. "I want to be your friend," she added after a little +pause, "but I don't quite know yet whether you will let me." + +"Indeed I will, ma'am," said Curdie. + +"That is for me to find out," she rejoined, with yet another strange +smile. "In the meantime all I can say is, come to me again when you find +yourself in any trouble, and I will see what I can do for you--only the +_canning_ depends on yourself. I am greatly pleased with you for +bringing me my pigeon, doing your best to set right what you had set +wrong." + +As she spoke she held out her hand to him, and when he took it she made +use of his to help herself up from her stool, and--when or how it came +about, Curdie could not tell--the same instant she stood before him a +tall, strong woman--plainly very old, but as grand as she was old, and +only _rather_ severe-looking. Every trace of the decrepitude and +witheredness she showed as she hovered like a film about her wheel, had +vanished. Her hair was very white, but it hung about her head in great +plenty, and shone like silver in the moonlight. Straight as a pillar she +stood before the astonished boy, and the wounded bird had now spread out +both its wings across her bosom, like some great mystical ornament of +frosted silver. + +"Oh, now I can never forget you!" cried Curdie. "I see now what you +really are!" + +"Did I not tell you the truth when I sat at my wheel?" said the old +lady. + +[Illustration: "_The wounded bird now spread out both its wings across +her bosom._"] + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Curdie. + +"I can do no more than tell you the truth now," she rejoined. "It is a +bad thing indeed to forget one who has told us the truth. Now go." + +Curdie obeyed, and took a few steps towards the door. + +"Please, ma'am,"--"what am I to call you?" he was going to say; but when +he turned to speak, he saw nobody. Whether she was there or not he could +not tell, however, for the moonlight had vanished, and the room was +utterly dark. A great fear, such as he had never before known, came upon +him, and almost overwhelmed him. He groped his way to the door, and +crawled down the stair--in doubt and anxiety as to how he should find +his way out of the house in the dark. And the stair seemed ever so much +longer than when he came up. Nor was that any wonder, for down and down +he went, until at length his foot struck on a door, and when he rose and +opened it, he found himself under the starry, moonless sky at the foot +of the tower. He soon discovered the way out of the garden, with which +he had some acquaintance already, and in a few minutes was climbing the +mountain with a solemn and cheerful heart. It was rather dark, but he +knew the way well. As he passed the rock from which the poor pigeon fell +wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at the thought that +he was delivered from the blood of the little bird, and he ran the next +hundred yards at full speed up the hill. Some dark shadows passed him: +he did not even care to think what they were, but let them run. When he +reached home, he found his father and mother waiting supper for him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +CURDIE'S FATHER AND MOTHER. + + +The eyes of the fathers and mothers are quick to read their children's +looks, and when Curdie entered the cottage, his parents saw at once that +something unusual had taken place. When he said to his mother, "I beg +your pardon for being so late," there was something in the tone beyond +the politeness that went to her heart, for it seemed to come from the +place where all lovely things were born before they began to grow in +this world. When he set his father's chair to the table, an attention he +had not shown him for a long time, Peter thanked him with more gratitude +than the boy had ever yet felt in all his life. It was a small thing to +do for the man who had been serving him since ever he was born, but I +suspect there is nothing a man can be so grateful for as that to which +he has the most right. There was a change upon Curdie, and father and +mother felt there must be something to account for it, and therefore +were pretty sure he had something to tell them. For when a child's heart +is _all_ right, it is not likely he will want to keep anything from his +parents. But the story of the evening was too solemn for Curdie to come +out with all at once. He must wait until they had had their porridge, +and the affairs of this world were over for the day. But when they were +seated on the grassy bank of the brook that went so sweetly blundering +over the great stones of its rocky channel, for the whole meadow lay on +the top of a huge rock, then he felt that the right hour had come for +sharing with them the wonderful things that had come to him. It was +perhaps the loveliest of all hours in the year. The summer was young and +soft, and this was the warmest evening they had yet had--dusky, dark +even below, while above the stars were bright and large and sharp in the +blackest blue sky. The night came close around them, clasping them in +one universal arm of love, and although it neither spoke nor smiled, +seemed all eye and ear, seemed to see and hear and know everything they +said and did. It is a way the night has sometimes, and there is a reason +for it. The only sound was that of the brook, for there was no wind, and +no trees for it to make its music upon if there had been, for the +cottage was high up on the mountain, on a great shoulder of stone where +trees would not grow. There, to the accompaniment of the water, as it +hurried down to the valley and the sea, talking busily of a thousand +true things which it could not understand, Curdie told his tale, outside +and in, to his father and mother. What a world had slipped in between +the mouth of the mine and his mother's cottage! Neither of them said a +word until he had ended. + +"Now what am I to make of it, mother? It's so strange!" he said, and +stopped. + +"It's easy enough to see what Curdie has got to make of it--isn't it, +Peter?" said the good woman, turning her face towards all she could see +of her husband's. + +"It seems so to me," answered Peter, with a smile, which only the night +saw, but his wife felt in the tone of his words. They were the happiest +couple in that country, because they always understood each other, and +that was because they always meant the same thing, and that was because +they always loved what was fair and true and right better--not than +anything else, but than everything else put together. + +"Then will you tell Curdie?" said she. + +"You can talk best, Joan," said he. "You tell him, and I will +listen--and learn how to say what I think," he added, laughing. + +"_I_," said Curdie, "don't know what to think." + +"It does not matter so much," said his mother. "If only you know what +to make of a thing, you'll know soon enough what to think of it. Now I +needn't tell you, surely, Curdie, what you've got to do with this?" + +"I suppose you mean, mother," answered Curdie, "that I must do as the +old lady told me?" + +"That is what I mean: what else could it be? Am I not right, Peter?" + +"Quite right, Joan," answered Peter, "so far as my judgment goes. It is +a very strange story, but you see the question is not about believing +it, for Curdie knows what came to him." + +"And you remember, Curdie," said his mother, "that when the princess +took you up that tower once before, and there talked to her +great-great-grandmother, you came home quite angry with her, and said +there was nothing in the place but an old tub, a heap of straw--oh, I +remember your inventory quite well!--an old tub, a heap of straw, a +withered apple, and a sunbeam. According to your eyes, that was all +there was in the great old musty garret. But now you have had a glimpse +of the old princess herself!" + +"Yes, mother, I _did_ see her--or if I didn't,--" said Curdie very +thoughtfully--then began again. "The hardest thing to believe, though I +saw it with my own eyes, was when the thin, filmy creature, that seemed +almost to float about in the moonlight like a bit of the silver paper +they put over pictures, or like a handkerchief made of spider-threads, +took my hand, and rose up. She was taller and stronger than you, mother, +ever so much!--at least, she looked so." + +"And most certainly was so, Curdie, if she looked so," said Mrs. +Peterson. + +"Well, I confess," returned her son, "that one thing, if there were no +other, would make me doubt whether I was not dreaming after all, for as +wide awake as I fancied myself to be." + +"Of course," answered his mother, "it is not for me to say whether you +were dreaming or not if you are doubtful of it yourself; but it doesn't +make me think I am dreaming when in the summer I hold in my hand the +bunch of sweet-peas that make my heart glad with their colour and scent, +and remember the dry, withered-looking little thing I dibbled into the +hole in the same spot in the spring. I only think how wonderful and +lovely it all is. It seems just as full of reason as it is of wonder. +How it is done I can't tell, only there it is! And there is this in it +too, Curdie--of which you would not be so ready to think--that when you +come home to your father and mother, and they find you behaving more +like a dear good son than you have behaved for a long time, they at +least are not likely to think you were only dreaming." + +"Still," said Curdie, looking a little ashamed, "I might have dreamed my +duty." + +"Then dream often, my son; for there must then be more truth in your +dreams than in your waking thoughts. But however any of these things may +be, this one point remains certain: there can be no harm in doing as she +told you. And, indeed, until you are sure there is no such person, you +are bound to do it, for you promised." + +"It seems to me," said his father, "that if a lady comes to you in a +dream, Curdie, and tells you not to talk about her when you wake, the +least you can do is to hold your tongue." + +"True, father!--Yes, mother, I'll do it," said Curdie. + +Then they went to bed, and sleep, which is the night of the soul, next +took them in its arms and made them well. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE MINERS. + + +It much increased Curdie's feeling of the strangeness of the whole +affair, that, the next morning, when they were at work in the mine, the +party of which he and his father were two, just as if they had known +what had happened to him the night before, began talking about all +manner of wonderful tales that were abroad in the country, chiefly of +course those connected with the mines, and the mountains in which they +lay. Their wives and mothers and grandmothers were their chief +authorities. For when they sat by their firesides they heard their wives +telling their children the selfsame tales, with little differences, and +here and there one they had not heard before, which they had heard their +mothers and grandmothers tell in one or other of the same cottages. At +length they came to speak of a certain strange being they called Old +Mother Wotherwop. Some said their wives had seen her. It appeared as +they talked that not one had seen her more than once. Some of their +mothers and grandmothers, however, had seen her also, and they all had +told them tales about her when they were children. They said she could +take any shape she liked, but that in reality she was a withered old +woman, so old and so withered that she was as thin as a sieve with a +lamp behind it; that she was never seen except at night, and when +something terrible had taken place, or was going to take place--such as +the falling in of the roof of a mine, or the breaking out of water in +it. She had more than once been seen--it was always at night--beside +some well, sitting on the brink of it, and leaning over and stirring it +with her forefinger, which was six times as long as any of the rest. And +whoever for months after drank of that well was sure to be ill. To this +one of them, however, added that he remembered his mother saying that +whoever in bad health drank of the well was sure to get better. But the +majority agreed that the former was the right version of the story--for +was she not a witch, an old hating witch, whose delight was to do +mischief? One said he had heard that she took the shape of a young woman +sometimes, as beautiful as an angel, and then was most dangerous of all, +for she struck every man who looked upon her stone-blind. Peter ventured +the question whether she might not as likely be an angel that took the +form of an old woman, as an old woman that took the form of an angel. +But nobody except Curdie, who was holding his peace with all his might, +saw any sense in the question. They said an old woman might be very glad +to make herself look like a young one, but who ever heard of a young and +beautiful one making herself look old and ugly? Peter asked why they +were so much more ready to believe the bad that was said of her than the +good. They answered because she was bad. He asked why they believed her +to be bad, and they answered, because she did bad things. When he asked +how they knew that, they said, because she was a bad creature. Even if +they didn't know it, they said, a woman like that was so much more +likely to be bad than good. Why did she go about at night? Why did she +appear only now and then, and on such occasions? One went on to tell how +one night when his grandfather had been having a jolly time of it with +his friends in the market town, she had served him so upon his way home +that the poor man never drank a drop of anything stronger than water +after it to the day of his death. She dragged him into a bog, and +tumbled him up and down in it till he was nearly dead. + +"I suppose that was her way of teaching him what a good thing water +was," said Peter; but the man, who liked strong drink, did not see the +joke. + +"They do say," said another, "that she has lived in the old house over +there ever since the little princess left it. They say too that the +housekeeper knows all about it, and is hand and glove with the old +witch. I don't doubt they have many a nice airing together on +broomsticks. But I don't doubt either it's all nonsense, and there's no +such person at all." + +"When our cow died," said another, "she was seen going round and round +the cowhouse the same night. To be sure she left a fine calf behind +her--I mean the cow did, not the witch. I wonder she didn't kill that +too, for she'll be a far finer cow than ever her mother was." + +"My old woman came upon her one night, not long before the water broke +out in the mine, sitting on a stone on the hill-side with a whole +congregation of cobs about her. When they saw my wife they all scampered +off as fast as they could run, and where the witch was sitting there was +nothing to be seen but a withered bracken bush. I make no doubt myself +she was putting them up to it." + +And so they went on with one foolish tale after another, while Peter put +in a word now and then, and Curdie diligently held his peace. But his +silence at last drew attention upon it, and one of them said,-- + +"Come, young Curdie, what are you thinking of?" + +"How do you know I'm thinking of anything?" asked Curdie. + +"Because you're not saying anything." + +"Does it follow then that, as you are saying so much, you're not +thinking at all?" said Curdie. + +"I know what he's thinking," said one who had not yet spoken; "--he's +thinking what a set of fools you are to talk such rubbish; as if ever +there was or could be such an old woman as you say! I'm sure Curdie +knows better than all that comes to." + +"I think," said Curdie, "it would be better that he who says anything +about her should be quite sure it is true, lest she should hear him, and +not like to be slandered." + +"But would she like it any better if it were true?" said the same man. +"If she is what they say--I don't know--but I never knew a man that +wouldn't go in a rage to be called the very thing he was." + +"If bad things were true of her, and I _knew_ it," said Curdie, "I would +not hesitate to say them, for I will never give in to being afraid of +anything that's bad. I suspect that the things they tell, however, if we +knew all about them, would turn out to have nothing but good in them; +and I won't say a word more for fear I should say something that +mightn't be to her mind." + +They all burst into a loud laugh. + +"Hear the parson!" they cried. "He believes in the witch! Ha! ha!" + +"He's afraid of her!" + +"And says all she does is good!" + +"He wants to make friends with her, that she may help him to find the +gangue." + +"Give me my own eyes and a good divining rod before all the witches in +the world! and so I'd advise you too, Master Curdie; that is, when your +eyes have grown to be worth anything, and you have learned to cut the +hazel fork." + +Thus they all mocked and jeered at him, but he did his best to keep his +temper and go quietly on with his work. He got as close to his father as +he could, however, for that helped him to bear it. As soon as they were +tired of laughing and mocking, Curdie was friendly with them, and long +before their midday meal all between them was as it had been. + +But when the evening came, Peter and Curdie felt that they would rather +walk home together without other company, and therefore lingered behind +when the rest of the men left the mine. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE EMERALD. + + +Father and son had seated themselves on a projecting piece of the rock +at a corner where three galleries met--the one they had come along from +their work, one to the right leading out of the mountain, and the other +to the left leading far into a portion of it which had been long +disused. Since the inundation caused by the goblins, it had indeed been +rendered impassable by the settlement of a quantity of the water, +forming a small but very deep lake, in a part where was a considerable +descent. They had just risen and were turning to the right, when a gleam +caught their eyes, and made them look along the whole gangue. Far up +they saw a pale green light, whence issuing they could not tell, about +halfway between floor and roof of the passage. They saw nothing but the +light, which was like a large star, with a point of darker colour yet +brighter radiance in the heart of it, whence the rest of the light shot +out in rays that faded towards the ends until they vanished. It shed +hardly any light around it, although in itself it was so bright as to +sting the eyes that beheld it. Wonderful stories had from ages gone been +current in the mines about certain magic gems which gave out light of +themselves, and this light looked just like what might be supposed to +shoot from the heart of such a gem. They went up the old gallery to find +out what it could be. + +To their surprise they found, however, that, after going some distance, +they were no nearer to it, so far as they could judge, than when they +started. It did not seem to move, and yet they moving did not approach +it. Still they persevered, for it was far too wonderful a thing to lose +sight of so long as they could keep it. At length they drew near the +hollow where the water lay, and still were no nearer the light. Where +they expected to be stopped by the water, however, water was none: +something had taken place in some part of the mine that had drained it +off, and the gallery lay open as in former times. And now, to their +surprise, the light, instead of being in front of them, was shining at +the same distance to the right, where they did not know there was any +passage at all. Then they discovered, by the light of the lanterns they +carried, that there the water had broken through, and made an adit to a +part of the mountain of which Peter knew nothing. But they were hardly +well into it, still following the light, before Curdie thought he +recognised some of the passages he had so often gone through when he was +watching the goblins. After they had advanced a long way, with many +turnings, now to the right, now to the left, all at once their eyes +seemed to come suddenly to themselves, and they became aware that the +light which they had taken to be a great way from them was in reality +almost within reach of their hands. The same instant it began to grow +larger and thinner, the point of light grew dim as it spread, the +greenness melted away, and in a moment or two, instead of the star, a +dark, dark and yet luminous face was looking at them with living eyes. +And Curdie felt a great awe swell up in his heart, for he thought he had +seen those eyes before. + +"I see you know me, Curdie," said a voice. + +"If your eyes are you, ma'am, then I know you," said Curdie. "But I +never saw your face before." + +"Yes, you have seen it, Curdie," said the voice. + +And with that the darkness of its complexion melted away, and down from +the face dawned out the form that belonged to it, until at last Curdie +and his father beheld a lady, "beautiful exceedingly," dressed in +something pale green, like velvet, over which her hair fell in cataracts +of a rich golden colour. It looked as if it were pouring down from her +head, and, like the water of the Dustbrook, vanishing in a golden vapour +ere it reached the floor. It came flowing from under the edge of a +coronet of gold, set with alternated pearls and emeralds. In front of +the crown was a great emerald, which looked somehow as if out of it had +come the light they had followed. There was no ornament else about her, +except on her slippers, which were one mass of gleaming emeralds, of +various shades of green, all mingling lovely like the waving of grass in +the wind and sun. She looked about five-and-twenty years old. And for +all the difference, Curdie knew somehow or other, he could not have told +how, that the face before him was that of the old princess, Irene's +great-great-grandmother. + +By this time all around them had grown light, and now first they could +see where they were. They stood in a great splendid cavern, which Curdie +recognised as that in which the goblins held their state assemblies. +But, strange to tell, the light by which they saw came streaming, +sparkling, and shooting from stones of many colours in the sides and +roof and floor of the cavern--stones of all the colours of the rainbow, +and many more. It was a glorious sight--the whole rugged place flashing +with colours--in one spot a great light of deep carbuncular red, in +another of sapphirine blue, in another of topaz-yellow; while here and +there were groups of stones of all hues and sizes, and again nebulous +spaces of thousands of tiniest spots of brilliancy of every conceivable +shade. Sometimes the colours ran together, and made a little river or +lake of lambent interfusing and changing tints, which, by their +variegation, seemed to imitate the flowing of water, or waves made by +the wind. Curdie would have gazed entranced, but that all the beauty of +the cavern, yes, of all he knew of the whole creation, seemed gathered +in one centre of harmony and loveliness in the person of the ancient +lady who stood before him in the very summer of beauty and strength. +Turning from the first glance at the circumfulgent splendour, it +dwindled into nothing as he looked again at the lady. Nothing flashed or +glowed or shone about her, and yet it was with a prevision of the truth +that he said,-- + +"I was here once before, ma'am." + +"I know that, Curdie," she replied. + +"The place was full of torches, and the walls gleamed, but nothing as +they do now, and there is no light in the place." + +"You want to know where the light comes from?" she said, smiling. + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Then see: I will go out of the cavern. Do not be afraid, but watch." + +She went slowly out. The moment she turned her back to go, the light +began to pale and fade; the moment she was out of their sight the place +was black as night, save that now the smoky yellow-red of their lamps, +which they thought had gone out long ago, cast a dusky glimmer around +them. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +WHAT _IS_ IN A NAME? + + +For a time that seemed to them long, the two men stood waiting, while +still the Mother of Light did not return. So long was she absent that +they began to grow anxious: how were they to find their way from the +natural hollows of the mountain crossed by goblin paths, if their lamps +should go out? To spend the night there would mean to sit and wait until +an earthquake rent the mountain, or the earth herself fell back into the +smelting furnace of the sun whence she had issued--for it was all night +and no faintest dawn in the bosom of the world. So long did they wait +unrevisited, that, had there not been two of them, either would at +length have concluded the vision a home-born product of his own seething +brain. And their lamps _were_ going out, for they grew redder and +smokier! But they did not lose courage, for there is a kind of capillary +attraction in the facing of two souls, that lifts faith quite beyond +the level to which either could raise it alone: they knew that they had +seen the lady of emeralds, and it was to give them their own desire that +she had gone from them, and neither would yield for a moment to the +half-doubts and half-dreads that awoke in his heart. And still she who +with her absence darkened their air did not return. They grew weary, and +sat down on the rocky floor, for wait they would--indeed, wait they +must. Each set his lamp by his knee, and watched it die. Slowly it sank, +dulled, looked lazy and stupid. But ever as it sank and dulled, the +image in his mind of the Lady of Light grew stronger and clearer. +Together the two lamps panted and shuddered. First one, then the other +went out, leaving for a moment a great red, evil-smelling snuff. Then +all was the blackness of darkness up to their very hearts and everywhere +around them. Was it? No. Far away--it looked miles away--shone one +minute faint point of green light--where, who could tell? They only knew +that it shone. It grew larger, and seemed to draw nearer, until at last, +as they watched with speechless delight and expectation, it seemed once +more within reach of an outstretched hand. Then it spread and melted +away as before, and there were eyes--and a face--and a lovely form--and +lo! the whole cavern blazing with lights innumerable, and gorgeous, yet +soft and interfused--so blended, indeed, that the eye had to search and +see in order to separate distinct spots of special colour. + +The moment they saw the speck in the vast distance they had risen and +stood on their feet. When it came nearer they bowed their heads. Yet now +they looked with fearless eyes, for the woman that was old and yet young +was a joy to see, and filled their hearts with reverent delight. She +turned first to Peter. + +"I have known you long," she said. "I have met you going to and from the +mine, and seen you working in it for the last forty years." + +"How should it be, madam, that a grand lady like you should take notice +of a poor man like me?" said Peter, humbly, but more foolishly than he +could then have understood. + +"I am poor as well as rich," said she. "I too work for my bread, and I +show myself no favour when I pay myself my own wages. Last night when +you sat by the brook, and Curdie told you about my pigeon, and my +spinning, and wondered whether he could believe that he had actually +seen me, I heard all you said to each other. I am always about, as the +miners said the other night when they talked of me as Old Mother +Wotherwop." + +The lovely lady laughed, and her laugh was a lightning of delight in +their souls. + +"Yes," she went on, "you have got to thank me that you are so poor, +Peter. I have seen to that, and it has done well for both you and me, my +friend. Things come to the poor that can't get in at the door of the +rich. Their money somehow blocks it up. It is a great privilege to be +poor, Peter--one that no man ever coveted, and but a very few have +sought to retain, but one that yet many have learned to prize. You must +not mistake, however, and imagine it a virtue; it is but a privilege, +and one also that, like other privileges, may be terribly misused. Hadst +thou been rich, my Peter, thou wouldst not have been so good as some +rich men I know. And now I am going to tell you what no one knows but +myself: you, Peter, and your wife have both the blood of the royal +family in your veins. I have been trying to cultivate your family tree, +every branch of which is known to me, and I expect Curdie to turn out a +blossom on it. Therefore I have been training him for a work that must +soon be done. I was near losing him, and had to send my pigeon. Had he +not shot it, that would have been better; but he repented, and that +shall be as good in the end." + +She turned to Curdie and smiled. + +"Ma'am," said Curdie, "may I ask questions?" + +"Why not, Curdie?" + +"Because I have been told, ma'am, that nobody must ask the king +questions." + +"The king never made that law," she answered, with some displeasure. +"You may ask me as many as you please--that is, so long as they are +sensible. Only I may take a few thousand years to answer some of them. +But that's nothing. Of all things time is the cheapest." + +"Then would you mind telling me now, ma'am, for I feel very confused +about it--are you the Lady of the Silver Moon?" + +"Yes, Curdie; you may call me that if you like. What it means is true." + +"And now I see you dark, and clothed in green, and the mother of all the +light that dwells in the stones of the earth! And up there they call you +Old Mother Wotherwop! And the Princess Irene told me you were her +great-great-grandmother! And you spin the spider-threads, and take care +of a whole people of pigeons; and you are worn to a pale shadow with old +age; and are as young as anybody can be, not to be too young; and as +strong, I do believe, as I am." + +The lady stooped towards a large green stone bedded in the rock of the +floor, and looking like a well of grassy light in it. She laid hold of +it with her fingers, broke it out, and gave it to Peter. + +"There!" cried Curdie, "I told you so. Twenty men could not have done +that. And your fingers are white and smooth as any lady's in the land. I +don't know what to make of it." + +"I could give you twenty names more to call me, Curdie, and not one of +them would be a false one. What does it matter how many names if the +person is one?" + +"Ah! but it is not names only, ma'am. Look at what you were like last +night, and what I see you now!" + +"Shapes are only dresses, Curdie, and dresses are only names. That which +is inside is the same all the time." + +"But then how can all the shapes speak the truth?" + +"It would want thousands more to speak the truth, Curdie; and then they +could not. But there is a point I must not let you mistake about. It is +one thing the shape I choose to put on, and quite another the shape that +foolish talk and nursery tale may please to put upon me. Also, it is one +thing what you or your father may think about me, and quite another what +a foolish or bad man may see in me. For instance, if a thief were to +come in here just now, he would think he saw the demon of the mine, all +in green flames, come to protect her treasure, and would run like a +hunted wild goat. I should be all the same, but his evil eyes would see +me as I was not." + +"I think I understand," said Curdie. + +"Peter," said the lady, turning then to him, "you will have to give up +Curdie for a little while." + +"So long as he loves us, ma'am, that will not matter--much." + +"Ah! you are right there, my friend," said the beautiful princess. + +And as she said it she put out her hand, and took the hard, horny hand +of the miner in it, and held it for a moment lovingly. + +"I need say no more," she added, "for we understand each other--you and +I, Peter." + +The tears came into Peter's eyes. He bowed his head in thankfulness, and +his heart was much too full to speak. + +Then the great old young beautiful princess turned to Curdie. + +"Now, Curdie, are you ready?" she said. + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Curdie. + +"You do not know what for." + +"You do, ma'am. That is enough." + +"You could not have given me a better answer, or done more to prepare +yourself, Curdie," she returned, with one of her radiant smiles. "Do you +think you will know me again?" + +"I think so. But how can I tell what you may look like next?" + +"Ah, that indeed! How can you tell? Or how could I expect you should? +But those who know me _well_, know me whatever new dress or shape or +name I may be in; and by-and-by you will have learned to do so too." + +"But if you want me to know you again, ma'am, for certain sure," said +Curdie, "could you not give me some sign, or tell me something about you +that never changes--or some other way to know you, or thing to know you +by?" + +"No, Curdie; that would be to keep you from knowing me. You must know me +in quite another way from that. It would not be the least use to you or +me either if I were to make you know me in that way. It would be but to +know the sign of me--not to know me myself. It would be no better than +if I were to take this emerald out of my crown and give it you to take +home with you, and you were to call it me, and talk to it as if it heard +and saw and loved you. Much good that would do you, Curdie! No; you must +do what you can to know me, and if you do, you will. You shall see me +again--in very different circumstances from these, and, I will tell you +so much, it _may_ be in a very different shape. But come now, I will +lead you out of this cavern; my good Joan will be getting too anxious +about you. One word more: you will allow that the men knew little what +they were talking about this morning, when they told all those tales of +Old Mother Wotherwop; but did it occur to you to think how it was they +fell to talking about me at all?--It was because I came to them; I was +beside them all the time they were talking about me, though they were +far enough from knowing it, and had very little besides foolishness to +say." + +As she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern, which, as if a +door had been closed, sunk into absolute blackness behind them. And now +they saw nothing more of the lady except the green star, which again +seemed a good distance in front of them, and to which they came no +nearer, although following it at a quick pace through the mountain. Such +was their confidence in her guidance, however, and so fearless were they +in consequence, that they felt their way neither with hand nor foot, but +walked straight on through the pitch dark galleries. When at length the +night of the upper world looked in at the mouth of the mine, the green +light seemed to lose its way amongst the stars, and they saw it no more. + +Out they came into the cool, blessed night. It was very late, and only +starlight. To their surprise, three paces away they saw, seated upon a +stone, an old countrywoman, in a cloak which they took for black. When +they came close up to it, they saw it was red. + +"Good evening!" said Peter. + +"Good evening!" returned the old woman, in a voice as old as herself. + +But Curdie took off his cap and said,-- + +"I am your servant, princess." + +The old woman replied,-- + +"Come to me in the dove-tower to-morrow night, Curdie--alone." + +"I will, ma'am," said Curdie. + +So they parted, and father and son went home to wife and mother--two +persons in one rich, happy woman. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +CURDIE'S MISSION. + + +The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than +usual, to make himself tidy before going to the dove-tower. The princess +had not appointed an exact time for him to be there; he would go as near +the time he had gone first as he could. On his way to the bottom of the +hill, he met his father coming up. The sun was then down, and the warm +first of the twilight filled the evening. He came rather wearily up the +hill: the road, he thought, must have grown steeper in parts since he +was Curdie's age. His back was to the light of the sunset, which closed +him all round in a beautiful setting, and Curdie thought what a +grand-looking man his father was, even when he was tired. It is greed +and laziness and selfishness, not hunger or weariness or cold, that take +the dignity out of a man, and make him look mean. + +"Ah, Curdie! there you are!" he said, seeing his son come bounding along +as if it were morning with him and not evening. + +"You look tired, father," said Curdie. + +"Yes, my boy. I'm not so young as you." + +"Nor so old as the princess," said Curdie. + +"Tell me this," said Peter: "why do people talk about going down hill +when they begin to get old? It seems to me that then first they begin to +go up hill." + +"You looked to me, father, when I caught sight of you, as if you had +been climbing the hill all your life, and were soon to get to the top." + +"Nobody can tell when that will be," returned Peter. "We're so ready to +think we're just at the top when it lies miles away. But I must not keep +you, my boy, for you are wanted; and we shall be anxious to know what +the princess says to you--that is, if she will allow you to tell us." + +"I think she will, for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted than +my father and mother," said Curdie, with pride. + +And away he shot, and ran, and jumped, and seemed almost to fly down the +long, winding, steep path, until he came to the gate of the king's +house. + +There he met an unexpected obstruction: in the open door stood the +housekeeper, and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost +filled the doorway. + +"So!" she said; "it's you, is it, young man? You are the person that +comes in and goes out when he pleases, and keeps running up and down my +stairs, without ever saying by your leave, or even wiping his shoes, and +always leaves the door open! Don't you know that this is my house?" + +"No, I do not," returned Curdie, respectfully. "You forget, ma'am, that +it is the king's house." + +"That is all the same. The king left it to me to take care of, and that +you shall know!" + +"Is the king dead, ma'am, that he has left it to you?" asked Curdie, +half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman. + +"Insolent fellow!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "Don't you see by my dress +that I am in the king's service?" + +"And am I not one of his miners?" + +"Ah! that goes for nothing. I am one of his household. You are an +out-of-doors labourer. You are a nobody. You carry a pickaxe. I carry +the keys at my girdle. See!" + +"But you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken," said +Curdie. + +"Go along with you!" cried the housekeeper, and would have shut the door +in his face, had she not been afraid that when she stepped back he +would step in ere she could get it in motion, for it was very heavy, and +always seemed unwilling to shut. Curdie came a pace nearer. She lifted +the great house key from her side, and threatened to strike him down +with it, calling aloud on Mar and Whelk and Plout, the men-servants +under her, to come and help her. Ere one of them could answer, however, +she gave a great shriek and turned and fled, leaving the door wide open. + +Curdie looked behind him, and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity even +he, who knew so many of the strange creatures, two of which were never +the same, that used to live inside the mountain with their masters the +goblins, had never seen equalled. Its eyes were flaming with anger, but +it seemed to be at the housekeeper, for it came cowering and creeping +up, and laid its head on the ground at Curdie's feet. Curdie hardly +waited to look at it, however, but ran into the house, eager to get up +the stairs before any of the men should come to annoy--he had no fear of +their preventing him. Without halt or hindrance, though the passages +were nearly dark, he reached the door of the princess's workroom, and +knocked. + +"Come in," said the voice of the princess. + +Curdie opened the door,--but, to his astonishment, saw no room there. +Could he have opened a wrong door? There was the great sky, and the +stars, and beneath he could see nothing--only darkness! But what was +that in the sky, straight in front of him? A great wheel of fire, +turning and turning, and flashing out blue lights! + +"Come in, Curdie," said the voice again. + +"I would at once, ma'am," said Curdie, "if I were sure I was standing at +your door." + +"Why should you doubt it, Curdie?" + +"Because I see neither walls nor floor, only darkness and the great +sky." + +"That is all right, Curdie. Come in." + +Curdie stepped forward at once. He was indeed, for the very crumb of a +moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw that would +be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he could not offer +her. So he stepped straight in--I will not say without a little tremble +at the thought of finding no floor beneath his foot. But that which had +need of the floor found it, and his foot was satisfied. + +No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in the +sky was the princess's spinning-wheel, near the other end of the room, +turning very fast. He could see no sky or stars any more, but the wheel +was flashing out blue--oh such lovely sky-blue light!--and behind it of +course sat the princess, but whether an old woman as thin as a skeleton +leaf, or a glorious lady as young as perfection, he could not tell for +the turning and flashing of the wheel. + +"Listen to the wheel," said the voice which had already grown dear to +Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not _as_ a jewel, for +no jewel could compare with it in preciousness. + +And Curdie listened and listened. + +"What is it saying?" asked the voice. + +"It is singing," answered Curdie. + +"What is it singing?" + +Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner had he +got a hold of something than it vanished again. Yet he listened, and +listened, entranced with delight. + +"Thank you, Curdie," said the voice. + +"Ma'am," said Curdie, "I did try hard for a while, but I could not make +anything of it." + +"Oh, yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell you +again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have just +told me without knowing it?" + +"Please, ma'am." + +Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to her +song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an Aeolian harp +blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth. Oh! the sweet +sounds of that spinning-wheel! Now they were gold, now silver, now +grass, now palm-trees, now ancient cities, now rubies, now mountain +brooks, now peacock's feathers, now clouds, now snowdrops, and now +mid-sea islands. But for the voice that sang through it all, about that +I have no words to tell. It would make you weep if I were able to tell +you what that was like, it was so beautiful and true and lovely. But +this is something like the words of its song:-- + + The stars are spinning their threads, + And the clouds are the dust that flies, + And the suns are weaving them up + For the time when the sleepers shall rise. + + The ocean in music rolls, + And gems are turning to eyes, + And the trees are gathering souls + For the time when the sleepers shall rise. + + The weepers are learning to smile, + And laughter to glean the sighs; + Burn and bury the care and guile, + For the day when the sleepers shall rise. + + Oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy-red, + The larks and the glimmers and flows! + The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, + And the something that nobody knows! + +The princess stopped, her wheel stopped, and she laughed. And her laugh +was sweeter than song and wheel; sweeter than running brook and silver +bell; sweeter than joy itself, for the heart of the laugh was love. + +"Come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel, and you will find me," she +said; and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words, as if they +were made of breath that had laughed. + +Curdie obeyed, and passed the wheel, and there she stood to receive +him!--fairer than when he saw her last, a little younger still, and +dressed not in green and emeralds, but in pale blue, with a coronet of +silver set with pearls, and slippers covered with opals, that gleamed +every colour of the rainbow. It was some time before Curdie could take +his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness. Fearing at last that he was +rude, he turned them away; and, behold, he was in a room that was for +beauty marvellous! The lofty ceiling was all a golden vine, whose great +clusters of carbuncles, rubies, and chrysoberyls, hung down like the +bosses of groined arches, and in its centre hung the most glorious lamp +that human eyes ever saw--the Silver Moon itself, a globe of silver, as +it seemed, with a heart of light so wondrous potent that it rendered the +mass translucent, and altogether radiant. + +The room was so large that, looking back, he could scarcely see the end +at which he entered; but the other was only a few yards from him--and +there he saw another wonder: on a huge hearth a great fire was burning, +and the fire was a huge heap of roses, and yet it was fire. The smell of +the roses filled the air, and the heat of the flames of them glowed upon +his face. He turned an inquiring look upon the lady, and saw that she +was now seated in an ancient chair, the legs of which were crusted with +gems, but the upper part like a nest of daisies and moss and green +grass. + +"Curdie," she said in answer to his eyes, "you have stood more than one +trial already, and have stood them well: now I am going to put you to a +harder. Do you think you are prepared for it?" + +"How can I tell, ma'am?" he returned, "seeing I do not know what it is, +or what preparation it needs? Judge me yourself, ma'am." + +"It needs only trust and obedience," answered the lady. + +"I dare not say anything, ma'am. If you think me fit, command me." + +"It will hurt you terribly, Curdie, but that will be all; no real hurt, +but much real good will come to you from it." + +Curdie made no answer, but stood gazing with parted lips in the lady's +face. + +"Go and thrust both your hands into that fire," she said quickly, almost +hurriedly. + +Curdie dared not stop to think. It was much too terrible to think about. +He rushed to the fire, and thrust both his hands right into the middle +of the heap of flaming roses, and his arms halfway up to the elbows. And +it _did_ hurt! But he did not draw them back. He held the pain as if it +were a thing that would kill him if he let it go--as indeed it would +have done. He was in terrible fear lest it should conquer him. But when +it had risen to the pitch that he thought he _could_ bear it no longer, +it began to fall again, and went on growing less and less until by +contrast with its former severity it had become rather pleasant. At last +it ceased altogether, and Curdie thought his hands must be burnt to +cinders if not ashes, for he did not feel them at all. The princess told +him to take them out and look at them. He did so, and found that all +that was gone of them was the rough hard skin; they were white and +smooth like the princess's. + +"Come to me," she said. + +He obeyed, and saw, to his surprise, that her face looked as if she had +been weeping. + +"Oh, princess! what _is_ the matter?" he cried. "Did I make a noise and +vex you?" + +"No, Curdie," she answered; "but it was very bad." + +"Did you feel it too then?" + +"Of course I did. But now it is over, and all is well.--Would you like +to know why I made you put your hands in the fire?" + +Curdie looked at them again--then said,-- + +"To take the marks of the work off them, and make them fit for the +king's court, I suppose." + +"No, Curdie," answered the princess, shaking her head, for she was not +pleased with the answer. "It would be a poor way of making your hands +fit for the king's court to take off them all signs of his service. +There is a far greater difference on them than that. Do you feel none?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"You will, though, by and by, when the time comes. But perhaps even then +you might not know what had been given you, therefore I will tell +you.--Have you ever heard what some philosophers say--that men were all +animals once?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"It is of no consequence. But there is another thing that is of the +greatest consequence--this: that all men, if they do not take care, go +down the hill to the animals' country; that many men are actually, all +their lives, going to be beasts. People knew it once, but it is long +since they forgot it." + +"I am not surprised to hear it, ma'am, when I think of some of our +miners." + +"Ah! but you must beware, Curdie, how you say of this man or that man +that he is travelling beastward. There are not nearly so many going that +way as at first sight you might think. When you met your father on the +hill to-night, you stood and spoke together on the same spot; and +although one of you was going up and the other coming down, at a little +distance no one could have told which was bound in the one direction and +which in the other. Just so two people may be at the same spot in +manners and behaviour, and yet one may be getting better and the other +worse, which is just the greatest of all differences that could possibly +exist between them." + +"But, ma'am," said Curdie, "where is the good of knowing that there is +such a difference, if you can never know where it is?" + +"Now, Curdie, you must mind exactly what words I use, because although +the right words cannot do exactly what I want them to do, the wrong +words will certainly do what I do not want them to do. I did not say +_you can never know_. When there is a necessity for your knowing, when +you have to do important business with this or that man, there is always +a way of knowing enough to keep you from any great blunder. And as you +will have important business to do by and by, and that with people of +whom you yet know nothing, it will be necessary that you should have +some better means than usual of learning the nature of them. Now +listen. Since it is always what they _do_, whether in their minds or +their bodies, that makes men go down to be less than men, that is, +beasts, the change always comes first in their hands--and first of all +in the inside hands, to which the outside ones are but as the gloves. +They do not know it of course; for a beast does not know that he is a +beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast the less he knows it. +Neither can their best friends, or their worst enemies indeed, _see_ any +difference in their hands, for they see only the living gloves of them. +But there are not a few who feel a vague something repulsive in the hand +of a man who is growing a beast. Now here is what the rose-fire has done +for you: it has made your hands so knowing and wise, it has brought your +real hands so near the outside of your flesh-gloves, that you will +henceforth be able to know at once the hand of a man who is growing into +a beast; nay, more--you will at once feel the foot of the beast he is +growing, just as if there were no glove made like a man's hand between +you and it. Hence of course it follows that you will be able often, and +with further education in zoology, will be able always to tell, not only +when a man is growing a beast, but what beast he is growing to, for you +will know the foot--what it is and what beast's it is. According then to +your knowledge of that beast, will be your knowledge of the man you +have to do with. Only there is one beautiful and awful thing about it, +that if any one gifted with this perception once uses it for his own +ends, it is taken from him, and then, not knowing that it is gone, he is +in a far worse condition than before, for he trusts to what he has not +got." + +"How dreadful!" said Curdie. "I must mind what I am about." + +"Yes, indeed, Curdie." + +"But may not one sometimes make a mistake without being able to help +it?" + +"Yes. But so long as he is not after his own ends, he will never make a +serious mistake." + +"I suppose you want me, ma'am, to warn every one whose hand tells me +that he is growing a beast--because, as you say, he does not know it +himself." + +The princess smiled. + +"Much good that would do, Curdie! I don't say there are no cases in +which it would be of use, but they are very rare and peculiar cases, and +if such come you will know them. To such a person there is in general no +insult like the truth. He cannot endure it, not because he is growing a +beast, but because he is ceasing to be a man. It is the dying man in him +that it makes uncomfortable, and he trots, or creeps, or swims, or +flutters out of its way--calls it a foolish feeling, a whim, an old +wives' fable, a bit of priests' humbug, an effete superstition, and so +on." + +"And is there no hope for him? Can nothing be done? It's so awful to +think of going down, down, down like that!" + +"Even when it is with his own will?" + +"That's what seems to me to make it worst of all," said Curdie. + +"You are right," answered the princess, nodding her head; "but there is +this amount of excuse to make for all such, remember--that they do not +know what or how horrid their coming fate is. Many a lady, so delicate +and nice that she can bear nothing coarser than the finest linen to +touch her body, if she had a mirror that could show her the animal she +is growing to, as it lies waiting within the fair skin and the fine +linen and the silk and the jewels, would receive a shock that might +possibly wake her up." + +"Why then, ma'am, shouldn't she have it?" + +The princess held her peace. + +"Come here, Lina," she said after a long pause. + +From somewhere behind Curdie, crept forward the same hideous animal +which had fawned at his feet at the door, and which, without his knowing +it, had followed him every step up the dove-tower. She ran to the +princess, and lay down at her feet, looking up at her with an +expression so pitiful that in Curdie's heart it overcame all the +ludicrousness of her horrible mass of incongruities. She had a very +short body, and very long legs made like an elephant's, so that in lying +down she kneeled with both pairs. Her tail, which dragged on the floor +behind her, was twice as long and quite as thick as her body. Her head +was something between that of a polar bear and a snake. Her eyes were +dark green, with a yellow light in them. Her under teeth came up like a +fringe of icicles, only very white, outside of her upper lip. Her throat +looked as if the hair had been plucked off. It showed a skin white and +smooth. + +"Give Curdie a paw, Lina," said the princess. + +The creature rose, and, lifting a long fore leg, held up a great +dog-like paw to Curdie. He took it gently. But what a shudder, as of +terrified delight, ran through him, when, instead of the paw of a dog, +such as it seemed to his eyes, he clasped in his great mining fist the +soft, neat little hand of a child! He took it in both of his, and held +it as if he could not let it go. The green eyes stared at him with their +yellow light, and the mouth was turned up towards him with its constant +half-grin; but here _was_ the child's hand! If he could but pull the +child out of the beast! His eyes sought the princess. She was watching +him with evident satisfaction. + +"Ma'am, here is a child's hand!" said Curdie. + +"Your gift does more for you than it promised. It is yet better to +perceive a hidden good than a hidden evil." + +"But," began Curdie. + +"I am not going to answer any more questions this evening," interrupted +the princess. "You have not half got to the bottom of the answers I have +already given you. That paw in your hand now might almost teach you the +whole science of natural history--the heavenly sort, I mean." + +"I will think," said Curdie. "But oh! please! one word more: may I tell +my father and mother all about it?" + +"Certainly--though perhaps now it may be their turn to find it a little +difficult to believe that things went just as you must tell them." + +"They shall see that I believe it all this time," said Curdie. + +"Tell them that to-morrow morning you must set out for the court--not +like a great man, but just as poor as you are. They had better not speak +about it. Tell them also that it will be a long time before they hear of +you again, but they must not lose heart. And tell your father to lay +that stone I gave him last night in a safe place--not because of the +greatness of its price, although it is such an emerald as no prince has +in his crown, but because it will be a news-bearer between you and him. +As often as he gets at all anxious about you, he must take it and lay it +in the fire, and leave it there when he goes to bed. In the morning he +must find it in the ashes, and if it be as green as ever, then all goes +well with you; if it have lost colour, things go ill with you; but if it +be very pale indeed, then you are in great danger, and he must come to +me." + +"Yes, ma'am," said Curdie. "Please, am I to go now?" + +"Yes," answered the princess, and held out her hand to him. + +Curdie took it, trembling with joy. It was a very beautiful hand--not +small, very smooth, but not very soft--and just the same to his +fire-taught touch that it was to his eyes. He would have stood there all +night holding it if she had not gently withdrawn it. + +"I will provide you a servant," she said, "for your journey, and to wait +upon you afterwards." + +"But where am I to go, ma'am, and what am I to do? You have given me no +message to carry, neither have you said what I am wanted for. I go +without a notion whether I am to walk this way or that, or what I am to +do when I get I don't know where." + +"Curdie!" said the princess, and there was a tone of reminder in his own +name as she spoke it, "did I not tell you to tell your father and mother +that you were to set out for the court? and you _know_ that lies to the +north. You must learn to use far less direct directions than that. You +must not be like a dull servant that needs to be told again and again +before he will understand. You have orders enough to start with, and you +will find, as you go on, and as you need to know, what you have to do. +But I warn you that perhaps it will not look the least like what you may +have been fancying I should require of you. I have one idea of you and +your work, and you have another. I do not blame you for that--you cannot +help it yet; but you must be ready to let my idea, which sets you +working, set your idea right. Be true and honest and fearless, and all +shall go well with you and your work, and all with whom your work lies, +and so with your parents--and me too, Curdie," she added after a little +pause. + +The young miner bowed his head low, patted the strange head that lay at +the princess's feet, and turned away. + +As soon as he passed the spinning-wheel, which looked, in the midst of +the glorious room, just like any wheel you might find in a country +cottage--old and worn and dingy and dusty--the splendour of the place +vanished, and he saw but the big bare room he seemed at first to have +entered, with the moon--the princess's moon no doubt--shining in at one +of the windows upon the spinning-wheel. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +HANDS. + + +Curdie went home, pondering much, and told everything to his father and +mother. As the old princess had said, it was now their turn to find what +they heard hard to believe. If they had not been able to trust Curdie +himself, they would have refused to believe more than the half of what +he reported, then they would have refused that half too, and at last +would most likely for a time have disbelieved in the very existence of +the princess, what evidence their own senses had given them +notwithstanding. For he had nothing conclusive to show in proof of what +he told them. When he held out his hands to them, his mother said they +looked as if he had been washing them with soft soap, only they did +smell of something nicer than that, and she must allow it was more like +roses than anything else she knew. His father could not see any +difference upon his hands, but then it was night, he said, and their +poor little lamp was not enough for his old eyes. As to the feel of +them, each of his own hands, he said, was hard and horny enough for two, +and it must be the fault of the dulness of his own thick skin that he +felt no change on Curdie's palms. + +"Here, Curdie," said his mother, "try my hand, and see what beast's paw +lies inside it." + +"No, mother," answered Curdie, half-beseeching, half-indignant, "I will +not insult my new gift by making pretence to try it. That would be +mockery. There is no hand within yours but the hand of a true woman, my +mother." + +"I should like you just to take hold of my hand, though," said his +mother. "You are my son, and may know all the bad there is in me." + +Then at once Curdie took her hand in his. And when he had it, he kept +it, stroking it gently with his other hand. + +"Mother," he said at length, "your hand feels just like that of the +princess." + +"What! my horny, cracked, rheumatic old hand, with its big joints, and +its short nails all worn down to the quick with hard work--like the hand +of the beautiful princess! Why, my child, you will make me fancy your +fingers have grown very dull indeed, instead of sharp and delicate, if +you talk such nonsense. Mine is such an ugly hand I should be ashamed +to show it to any but one that loved me. But love makes all +safe--doesn't it, Curdie?" + +"Well, mother, all I can say is that I don't feel a roughness, or a +crack, or a big joint, or a short nail. Your hand feels just and +exactly, as near as I can recollect, and it's not now more than two +hours since I had it in mine,--well, I will say, very like indeed to +that of the old princess." + +"Go away, you flatterer," said his mother, with a smile that showed how +she prized the love that lay beneath what she took for its hyperbole. +The praise even which one cannot accept is sweet from a true mouth. "If +that is all your new gift can do, it won't make a warlock of you," she +added. + +"Mother, it tells me nothing but the truth," insisted Curdie, "however +unlike the truth it may seem. It wants no gift to tell what anybody's +outside hands are like. But by it I _know_ your inside hands are like +the princess's." + +"And I am sure the boy speaks true," said Peter. "He only says about +your hand what I have known ever so long about yourself, Joan. Curdie, +your mother's foot is as pretty a foot as any lady's in the land, and +where her hand is not so pretty it comes of killing its beauty for you +and me, my boy. And I can tell you more, Curdie. I don't know much +about ladies and gentlemen, but I am sure your inside mother must be a +lady, as her hand tells you, and I will try to say how I know it. This +is how: when I forget myself looking at her as she goes about her +work--and that happens oftener as I grow older--I fancy for a moment or +two that I am a gentleman; and when I wake up from my little dream, it +is only to feel the more strongly that I must do everything as a +gentleman should. I will try to tell you what I mean, Curdie. If a +gentleman--I mean a real gentleman, not a pretended one, of which sort +they say there are a many above ground--if a real gentleman were to lose +all his money and come down to work in the mines to get bread for his +family--do you think, Curdie, he would work like the lazy ones? Would he +try to do as little as he could for his wages? I know the sort of the +true gentleman--pretty near as well as he does himself. And my wife, +that's your mother, Curdie, she's a true lady, you may take my word for +it, for it's she that makes me want to be a true gentleman. Wife, the +boy is in the right about your hand." + +"Now, father, let me feel yours," said Curdie, daring a little more. + +"No, no, my boy," answered Peter. "I don't want to hear anything about +my hand or my head or my heart. I am what I am, and I hope growing +better, and that's enough. No, you shan't feel my hand. You must go to +bed, for you must start with the sun." + +It was not as if Curdie had been leaving them to go to prison, or to +make a fortune, and although they were sorry enough to lose him, they +were not in the least heart-broken or even troubled at his going. + +As the princess had said he was to go like the poor man he was, Curdie +came down in the morning from his little loft dressed in his working +clothes. His mother, who was busy getting his breakfast for him, while +his father sat reading to her out of an old book, would have had him put +on his holiday garments, which, she said, would look poor enough amongst +the fine ladies and gentlemen he was going to. But Curdie said he did +not know that he was going amongst ladies and gentlemen, and that as +work was better than play, his work-day clothes must on the whole be +better than his play-day clothes; and as his father accepted the +argument, his mother gave in. + +When he had eaten his breakfast, she took a pouch made of goatskin, with +the long hair on it, filled it with bread and cheese, and hung it over +his shoulder. Then his father gave him a stick he had cut for him in the +wood, and he bade them good-bye rather hurriedly, for he was afraid of +breaking down. As he went out, he caught up his mattock and took it with +him. It had on the one side a pointed curve of strong steel, for +loosening the earth and the ore, and on the other a steel hammer for +breaking the stones and rocks. Just as he crossed the threshold the sun +showed the first segment of his disc above the horizon. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE HEATH. + + +He had to go to the bottom of the hill to get into a country he could +cross, for the mountains to the north were full of precipices, and it +would have been losing time to go that way. Not until he had reached the +king's house was it any use to turn northwards. Many a look did he +raise, as he passed it, to the dove-tower, and as long as it was in +sight, but he saw nothing of the lady of the pigeons. + +On and on he fared, and came in a few hours to a country where there +were no mountains more--only hills, with great stretches of desolate +heath. Here and there was a village, but that brought him little +pleasure, for the people were rougher and worse-mannered than those in +the mountains, and as he passed through, the children came behind and +mocked him. + +"There's a monkey running away from the mines!" they cried. + +Sometimes their parents came out and encouraged them. + +"He don't want to find gold for the king any longer,--the lazybones!" +they would say. "He'll be well taxed down here though, and he won't like +that either." + +But it was little to Curdie that men who did not know what he was about +should not approve of his proceedings. He gave them a merry answer now +and then, and held diligently on his way. When they got so rude as +nearly to make him angry, he would treat them as he used to treat the +goblins, and sing his own songs to keep out their foolish noises. Once a +child fell as he turned to run away after throwing a stone at him. He +picked him up, kissed him, and carried him to his mother. The woman had +run out in terror when she saw the strange miner about, as she thought, +to take vengeance on her boy. When he put him in her arms, she blessed +him, and Curdie went on his way rejoicing. + +And so the day went on, and the evening came, and in the middle of a +great desolate heath he began to feel tired, and sat down under an +ancient hawthorn, through which every now and then a lone wind that +seemed to come from nowhere and to go nowhither sighed and hissed. It +was very old and distorted. There was not another tree for miles all +around. It seemed to have lived so long, and to have been so torn and +tossed by the tempests on that moor, that it had at last gathered a wind +of its own, which got up now and then, tumbled itself about, and lay +down again. + +Curdie had been so eager to get on that he had eaten nothing since his +breakfast. But he had had plenty of water, for many little streams had +crossed his path. He now opened the wallet his mother had given him, and +began to eat his supper. The sun was setting. A few clouds had gathered +about the west, but there was not a single cloud anywhere else to be +seen. + +Now Curdie did not know that this was a part of the country very hard to +get through. Nobody lived there, though many had tried to build in it. +Some died very soon. Some rushed out of it. Those who stayed longest +went raving mad, and died a terrible death. Such as walked straight on, +and did not spend a night there, got through well, and were nothing the +worse. But those who slept even a single night in it were sure to meet +with something they could never forget, and which often left a mark +everybody could read. And that old hawthorn might have been enough for a +warning--it looked so like a human being dried up and distorted with age +and suffering, with cares instead of loves, and things instead of +thoughts. Both it and the heath around it, which stretched on all sides +as far as he could see, were so withered that it was impossible to say +whether they were alive or not. + +And while Curdie ate there came a change. Clouds had gathered over his +head, and seemed drifting about in every direction, as if not +"shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind," but hunted in all directions +by wolfish flaws across the plains of the sky. The sun was going down in +a storm of lurid crimson, and out of the west came a wind that felt red +and hot the one moment, and cold and pale the other. And very strangely +it sung in the dreary old hawthorn tree, and very cheerily it blew about +Curdie, now making him creep close up to the tree for shelter from its +shivery cold, now fan himself with his cap, it was so sultry and +stifling. It seemed to come from the death-bed of the sun, dying in +fever and ague. + +And as he gazed at the sun, now on the verge of the horizon, very large +and very red and very dull--for though the clouds had broken away a +dusty fog was spread all over him--Curdie saw something strange appear +against him, moving about like a fly over his burning face. It looked as +if it were coming out of his hot furnace-heart, and was a living +creature of some kind surely; but its shape was very uncertain, because +the dazzle of the light all around it melted its outlines. It was +growing larger, it must be approaching! It grew so rapidly that by the +time the sun was half down its head reached the top of his arch, and +presently nothing but its legs were to be seen, crossing and recrossing +the face of the vanishing disc. When the sun was down he could see +nothing of it more, but in a moment he heard its feet galloping over the +dry crackling heather, and seeming to come straight for him. He stood +up, lifted his pickaxe, and threw the hammer end over his shoulder: he +was going to have a fight for his life! And now it appeared again, +vague, yet very awful, in the dim twilight the sun had left behind him. +But just before it reached him, down from its four long legs it dropped +flat on the ground, and came crawling towards him, wagging a huge tail +as it came. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +LINA. + + +It was Lina. All at once Curdie recognised her--the frightful creature +he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxe, and held out his +hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her chin in his palm, and he +patted her ugly head. Then she crept away behind the tree, and lay down, +panting hard. Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him. +Horrible as she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more horrible +when he was not looking at her. But he remembered the child's hand, and +never thought of driving her away. Now and then he gave a glance behind +him, and there she lay flat, with her eyes closed and her terrible teeth +gleaming between her two huge fore-paws. + +After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie +should now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and +pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought to +sleep. He found himself mistaken however. But although he could not +sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully. Presently he heard a +sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he had never heard before--a +singing as of curious birds far off, which drew nearer and nearer. At +length he heard their wings, and, opening his eyes, saw a number of very +large birds, as it seemed, alighting around him, still singing. It was +strange to hear song from the throats of such big birds. And still +singing, with large and round but not the less bird-like voices, they +began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their wings in time +with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be troubled and broken, +and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place of sweeping smoothly on. +And he soon learned, in the low short growls behind him, the cause of +the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, but Lina +would not permit them to come on her side. + +Now Curdie liked the birds, and did not altogether _like_ Lina. But +neither, nor both together, made a _reason_ for driving away the +princess's creature. Doubtless she _had been_ a goblins' creature, but +the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dove-tower, and +at the old princess's feet. So he left her to do as she would, and the +dance of the birds continued only a semicircle, troubled at the edges, +and returning upon itself. But their song and their motions, +nevertheless, and the waving of their wings, began at length to make him +very sleepy. All the time he had kept doubting every now and then +whether they could really be birds, and the sleepier he got, the more he +imagined them something else, but he suspected no harm. Suddenly, just +as he was sinking beneath the waves of slumber, he awoke in fierce pain. +The birds were upon him--all over him--and had begun to tear him with +beaks and claws. He had but time, however, to feel that he could not +move under their weight, when they set up a hideous screaming, and +scattered like a cloud. Lina was amongst them, snapping and striking +with her paws, while her tail knocked them over and over. But they flew +up, gathered, and descended on her in a swarm, perching upon every part +of her body, so that he could see only a huge misshapen mass, which +seemed to go rolling away into the darkness. He got up and tried to +follow, but could see nothing, and after wandering about hither and +thither for some time, found himself again beside the hawthorn. He +feared greatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, and had torn +her to pieces. In a little while, however, she came limping back, and +lay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, but, from the pain of +his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the light came he found +his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well, but gladly wondered +why the wicked birds had not at once attacked his eyes. Then he turned +looking for Lina. She rose and crept to him. But she was in far worse +plight than he--plucked and gashed and torn with the beaks and claws of +the birds, especially about the bare part of her neck, so that she was +pitiful to see. And those worst wounds she could not reach to lick. + +"Poor Lina!" said Curdie; "you got all those helping me." + +She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then it +flashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the companion the +princess had promised him. For the princess did so many things +differently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beauty certainly, +but already, the first night, she had saved his life. + +"Come along, Lina," he said; "we want water." + +She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment, darted +off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was so uneven, that +after losing sight of her many times, at last he seemed to have lost her +altogether. In a few minutes, however, he came upon her waiting for him. +Instantly she darted off again. After he had lost and found her again +many times, he found her the last time lying beside a great stone. As +soon as he came up she began scratching at it with her paws. When he had +raised it an inch or two, she shoved in first her nose and then her +teeth, and lifted with all the might of her strong neck. + +When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautiful little +well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetest water, and drank. +Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully. Next he washed her +wounds very carefully. And as he did so, he noted how much the bareness +of her neck added to the strange repulsiveness of her appearance. Then +he bethought him of the goatskin wallet his mother had given him, and +taking it from his shoulders, tried whether it would do to make a collar +of for the poor animal. He found there was just enough, and the hair so +similar in colour to Lina's, that no one could suspect it of having +grown somewhere else. He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the +wallet, and began trying the skin to her neck. It was plain she +understood perfectly what he wished, for she endeavoured to hold her +neck conveniently, turning it this way and that while he contrived, with +his rather scanty material, to make the collar fit. As his mother had +taken care to provide him with needles and thread, he soon had a nice +gorget ready for her. He laced it on with one of his boot-laces, which +its long hair covered. Poor Lina looked much better in it. Nor could any +one have called it a piece of finery. If ever green eyes with a yellow +light in them looked grateful, hers did. + +As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina now ate +what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upon their +journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with various adventures, and +in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so ready to risk her life for +the sake of her companion, that Curdie grew not merely very fond but +very trustful of her, and her ugliness, which at first only moved his +pity, now actually increased his affection for her. One day, looking at +her stretched on the grass before him, he said,-- + +"Oh, Lina! if the princess would but burn you in her fire of roses!" + +She looked up at him, gave a mournful whine like a dog, and laid her +head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, but clearly she +had gathered something from his words. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MORE CREATURES. + + +One day from morning till night they had been passing through a forest. +As soon as the sun was down Curdie began to be aware that there were +more in it than themselves. First he saw only the swift rush of a figure +across the trees at some distance. Then he saw another and then another +at shorter intervals. Then he saw others both further off and nearer. At +last, missing Lina and looking about after her, he saw an appearance +almost as marvellous as herself steal up to her, and begin conversing +with her after some beast fashion which evidently she understood. + +Presently what seemed a quarrel arose between them, and stranger noises +followed, mingled with growling. At length it came to a fight, which had +not lasted long, however, before the creature of the wood threw itself +upon its back, and held up its paws to Lina. She instantly walked on, +and the creature got up and followed her. They had not gone far before +another strange animal appeared, approaching Lina, when precisely the +same thing was repeated, the vanquished animal rising and following with +the former. Again, and yet again and again, a fresh animal came up, +seemed to be reasoned and certainly was fought with and overcome by +Lina, until at last, before they were out of the wood, she was followed +by forty-nine of the most grotesquely ugly, the most extravagantly +abnormal animals imagination can conceive. To describe them were a +hopeless task. I knew a boy who used to make animals out of heather +roots. Wherever he could find four legs, he was pretty sure to find a +head and a tail. His beasts were a most comic menagerie, and right +fruitful of laughter. But they were not so grotesque and extravagant as +Lina and her followers. One of them, for instance, was like a boa +constrictor walking on four little stumpy legs near its tail. About the +same distance from its head were two little wings, which it was for ever +fluttering as if trying to fly with them. Curdie thought it fancied it +did fly with them, when it was merely plodding on busily with its four +little stumps. How it managed to keep up he could not think, till once +when he missed it from the group: the same moment he caught sight of +something at a distance plunging at an awful serpentine rate through +the trees, and presently, from behind a huge ash, this same creature +fell again into the group, quietly waddling along on its four stumps. +Watching it after this, he saw that, when it was not able to keep up any +longer, and they had all got a little space ahead, it shot into the wood +away from the route, and made a great round, serpenting along in huge +billows of motion, devouring the ground, undulating awfully, galloping +as if it were all legs together, and its four stumps nowhere. In this +mad fashion it shot ahead, and, a few minutes after, toddled in again +amongst the rest, walking peacefully and somewhat painfully on its few +fours. + +From the time it takes to describe one of them it will be readily seen +that it would hardly do to attempt a description of each of the +forty-nine. They were not a goodly company, but well worth contemplating +nevertheless; and Curdie had been too long used to the goblins' +creatures in the mines and on the mountain, to feel the least +uncomfortable at being followed by such a herd. On the contrary the +marvellous vagaries of shape they manifested amused him greatly, and +shortened the journey much. Before they were all gathered, however, it +had got so dark that he could see some of them only a part at a time, +and every now and then, as the company wandered on, he would be startled +by some extraordinary limb or feature, undreamed of by him before, +thrusting itself out of the darkness into the range of his ken. +Probably there were some of his old acquaintances among them, although +such had been the conditions of semi-darkness in which alone he had ever +seen any of them, that it was not likely he would be able to identify +any of them. + +On they marched solemnly, almost in silence, for either with feet or +voice the creatures seldom made any noise. By the time they reached the +outside of the wood it was morning twilight. Into the open trooped the +strange torrent of deformity, each one following Lina. Suddenly she +stopped, turned towards them, and said something which they understood, +although to Curdie's ear the sounds she made seemed to have no +articulation. Instantly they all turned, and vanished in the forest, and +Lina alone came trotting lithely and clumsily after her master. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE BAKER'S WIFE. + + +They were now passing through a lovely country of hill and dale and +rushing stream. The hills were abrupt, with broken chasms for +water-courses, and deep little valleys full of trees. But now and then +they came to a larger valley, with a fine river, whose level banks and +the adjacent meadows were dotted all over with red and white kine, while +on the fields above, that sloped a little to the foot of the hills, grew +oats and barley and wheat, and on the sides of the hills themselves +vines hung and chestnuts rose. They came at last to a broad, beautiful +river, up which they must go to arrive at the city of Gwyntystorm, where +the king had his court. As they went the valley narrowed, and then the +river, but still it was wide enough for large boats. After this, while +the river kept its size, the banks narrowed, until there was only room +for a road between the river and the great cliffs that overhung it. At +last river and road took a sudden turn, and lo! a great rock in the +river, which dividing flowed around it, and on the top of the rock the +city, with lofty walls and towers and battlements, and above the city +the palace of the king, built like a strong castle. But the +fortifications had long been neglected, for the whole country was now +under one king, and all men said there was no more need for weapons or +walls. No man pretended to love his neighbour, but every one said he +knew that peace and quiet behaviour was the best thing for himself, and +that, he said, was quite as useful, and a great deal more reasonable. +The city was prosperous and rich, and if anybody was not comfortable, +everybody else said he ought to be. + +When Curdie got up opposite the mighty rock, which sparkled all over +with crystals, he found a narrow bridge, defended by gates and +portcullis and towers with loopholes. But the gates stood wide open, and +were dropping from their great hinges; the portcullis was eaten away +with rust, and clung to the grooves evidently immovable; while the +loopholed towers had neither floor nor roof, and their tops were fast +filling up their interiors. Curdie thought it a pity, if only for their +old story, that they should be thus neglected. But everybody in the city +regarded these signs of decay as the best proof of the prosperity of the +place. Commerce and self-interest, they said, had got the better of +violence, and the troubles of the past were whelmed in the riches that +flowed in at their open gates. Indeed there was one sect of philosophers +in it which taught that it would be better to forget all the past +history of the city, were it not that its former imperfections taught +its present inhabitants how superior they and their times were, and +enabled them to glory over their ancestors. There were even certain +quacks in the city who advertised pills for enabling people to think +well of themselves, and some few bought of them, but most laughed, and +said, with evident truth, that they did not require them. Indeed, the +general theme of discourse when they met was, how much wiser they were +than their fathers. + +Curdie crossed the river, and began to ascend the winding road that led +up to the city. They met a good many idlers, and all stared at them. It +was no wonder they should stare, but there was an unfriendliness in +their looks which Curdie did not like. No one, however, offered them any +molestation: Lina did not invite liberties. After a long ascent, they +reached the principal gate of the city and entered. + +The street was very steep, ascending towards the palace, which rose in +great strength above all the houses. Just as they entered, a baker, +whose shop was a few doors inside the gate, came out in his white apron, +and ran to the shop of his friend the barber on the opposite side of +the way. But as he ran he stumbled and fell heavily. Curdie hastened to +help him up, and found he had bruised his forehead badly. He swore +grievously at the stone for tripping him up, declaring it was the third +time he had fallen over it within the last month; and saying what was +the king about that he allowed such a stone to stick up for ever on the +main street of his royal residence of Gwyntystorm! What was a king for +if he would not take care of his people's heads! And he stroked his +forehead tenderly. + +"Was it your head or your feet that ought to bear the blame of your +fall?" asked Curdie. + +"Why, you booby of a miner! my feet, of course," answered the baker. + +"Nay, then," said Curdie, "the king can't be to blame." + +"Oh, I see!" said the baker. "You're laying a trap for me. Of course, if +you come to that, it was my head that ought to have looked after my +feet. But it is the king's part to look after us all, and have his +streets smooth." + +"Well, I don't see," said Curdie, "why the king should take care of the +baker, when the baker's head won't take care of the baker's feet." + +"Who are you to make game of the king's baker?" cried the man in a +rage. + +But, instead of answering, Curdie went up to the bump on the street +which had repeated itself on the baker's head, and turning the hammer +end of his mattock, struck it such a blow that it flew wide in pieces. +Blow after blow he struck, until he had levelled it with the street. + +But out flew the barber upon him in a rage. + +"What do you break my window for, you rascal, with your pickaxe?" + +"I am very sorry," said Curdie. "It must have been a bit of stone that +flew from my mattock. I couldn't help it, you know." + +"Couldn't help it! A fine story! What do you go breaking the rock +for--the very rock upon which the city stands?" + +"Look at your friend's forehead," said Curdie. "See what a lump he has +got on it with falling over that same stone." + +"What's that to my window?" cried the barber. "His forehead can mend +itself; my poor window can't." + +"But he's the king's baker," said Curdie, more and more surprised at the +man's anger. + +"What's that to me? This is a free city. Every man here takes care of +himself, and the king takes care of us all. I'll have the price of my +window out of you, or the exchequer shall pay for it." + +Something caught Curdie's eye. He stooped, picked up a piece of the +stone he had just broken, and put it in his pocket. + +"I suppose you are going to break another of my windows with that +stone!" said the barber. + +"Oh no," said Curdie. "I didn't mean to break your window, and I +certainly won't break another." + +"Give me that stone," said the barber. + +Curdie gave it to him, and the barber threw it over the city wall. + +"I thought you wanted the stone," said Curdie. + +"No, you fool!" answered the barber. "What should I want with a stone?" + +Curdie stooped and picked up another. + +"Give me that stone," said the barber. + +"No," answered Curdie. "You have just told me you don't want a stone, +and I do." + +The barber took Curdie by the collar. + +"Come, now! you pay me for that window." + +"How much?" asked Curdie. + +The barber said, "A crown." But the baker, annoyed at the heartlessness +of the barber, in thinking more of his broken window than the bump on +his friend's forehead, interfered. + +"No, no," he said to Curdie; "don't you pay any such sum. A little pane +like that cost only a quarter." + +"Well, to be certain," said Curdie, "I'll give him a half." For he +doubted the baker as well as the barber. "Perhaps one day, if he finds +he has asked too much, he will bring me the difference." + +"Ha! ha!" laughed the barber. "A fool and his money are soon parted." + +But as he took the coin from Curdie's hand he grasped it in affected +reconciliation and real satisfaction. In Curdie's, his was the cold +smooth leathery palm of a monkey. He looked up, almost expecting to see +him pop the money in his cheek; but he had not yet got so far as that, +though he was well on the road to it: then he would have no other +pocket. + +"I'm glad that stone is gone, anyhow," said the baker. "It was the bane +of my life. I had no idea how easy it was to remove it. Give me your +pickaxe, young miner, and I will show you how a baker can make the +stones fly." + +He caught the tool out of Curdie's hand, and flew at one of the +foundation stones of the gateway. But he jarred his arm terribly, +scarcely chipped the stone, dropped the mattock with a cry of pain, and +ran into his own shop. Curdie picked up his implement, and looking after +the baker, saw bread in the window, and followed him in. But the baker, +ashamed of himself, and thinking he was coming to laugh at him, popped +out of the back door, and when Curdie entered, the baker's wife came +from the bakehouse to serve him. Curdie requested to know the price of a +certain good-sized loaf. + +Now the baker's wife had been watching what had passed since first her +husband ran out of the shop, and she liked the look of Curdie. Also she +was more honest than her husband. Casting a glance to the back door, she +replied,-- + +"That is not the best bread. I will sell you a loaf of what we bake for +ourselves." And when she had spoken she laid a finger on her lips. "Take +care of yourself in this place, my son," she added. "They do not love +strangers. I was once a stranger here, and I know what I say." Then +fancying she heard her husband,--"That is a strange animal you have," +she said, in a louder voice. + +"Yes," answered Curdie. "She is no beauty, but she is very good, and we +love each other. Don't we, Lina?" + +Lina looked up and whined. Curdie threw her the half of his loaf, which +she ate while her master and the baker's wife talked a little. Then the +baker's wife gave them some water, and Curdie having paid for his loaf, +he and Lina went up the street together. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE DOGS OF GWYNTYSTORM. + + +The steep street led them straight up to a large market-place, with +butchers' shops, about which were many dogs. The moment they caught +sight of Lina, one and all they came rushing down upon her, giving her +no chance of explaining herself. When Curdie saw the dogs coming he +heaved up his mattock over his shoulder, and was ready, if they would +have it so. Seeing him thus prepared to defend his follower, a great +ugly bull-dog flew at him. With the first blow Curdie struck him through +the brain, and the brute fell dead at his feet. But he could not at once +recover his weapon, which stuck in the skull of his foe, and a huge +mastiff, seeing him thus hampered, flew at him next. Now Lina, who had +shown herself so brave upon the road thither, had grown shy upon +entering the city, and kept always at Curdie's heel. But it was her +turn now. The moment she saw her master in danger she seemed to go mad +with rage. As the mastiff jumped at Curdie's throat, Lina flew at his, +seized him with her tremendous jaws, gave one roaring grind, and he lay +beside the bull-dog with his neck broken. They were the best dogs in the +market, after the judgment of the butchers of Gwyntystorm. Down came +their masters, knife in hand. + +Curdie drew himself up fearlessly, mattock on shoulder, and awaited +their coming, while at his heel his awful attendant showed not only her +outside fringe of icicle-teeth, but a double row of right serviceable +fangs she wore inside her mouth, and her green eyes flashed yellow as +gold. The butchers not liking the look either of them or of the dogs at +their feet, drew back, and began to remonstrate in the manner of +outraged men. + +"Stranger," said the first, "that bull-dog is mine." + +"Take him, then," said Curdie, indignant. + +"You've killed him!" + +"Yes--else he would have killed me." + +"That's no business of mine." + +"No?" + +"No." + +"That makes it the more mine, then." + +"This sort of thing won't do, you know," said the other butcher. + +"That's true," said Curdie. + +"That's my mastiff," said the butcher. + +"And as he ought to be," said Curdie. + +"Your brute shall be burnt alive for it," said the butcher. + +"Not yet," answered Curdie. "We have done no wrong. We were walking +quietly up your street, when your dogs flew at us. If you don't teach +your dogs how to treat strangers, you must take the consequences." + +"They treat them quite properly," said the butcher. "What right has any +one to bring an abomination like that into our city? The horror is +enough to make an idiot of every child in the place." + +"We are both subjects of the king, and my poor animal can't help her +looks. How would you like to be served like that because you were ugly? +She's not a bit fonder of her looks than you are--only what can she do +to change them?" + +"I'll do to change them," said the fellow. + +Thereupon the butchers brandished their long knives and advanced, +keeping their eyes upon Lina. + +"Don't be afraid, Lina," cried Curdie. "I'll kill one--you kill the +other." + +Lina gave a howl that might have terrified an army, and crouched ready +to spring. The butchers turned and ran. + +By this time a great crowd had gathered behind the butchers, and in it a +number of boys returning from school, who began to stone the strangers. +It was a way they had with man or beast they did not expect to make +anything by. One of the stones struck Lina; she caught it in her teeth +and crunched it that it fell in gravel from her mouth. Some of the +foremost of the crowd saw this, and it terrified them. They drew back; +the rest took fright from their retreat; the panic spread; and at last +the crowd scattered in all directions. They ran, and cried out, and said +the devil and his dam were come to Gwyntystorm. So Curdie and Lina were +left standing unmolested in the market-place. But the terror of them +spread throughout the city, and everybody began to shut and lock his +door, so that by the time the setting sun shone down the street, there +was not a shop left open, for fear of the devil and his horrible dam. +But all the upper windows within sight of them were crowded with heads +watching them where they stood lonely in the deserted market-place. + +Curdie looked carefully all round, but could not see one open door. He +caught sight of the sign of an inn however, and laying down his mattock, +and telling Lina to take care of it, walked up to the door of it and +knocked. But the people in the house, instead of opening the door, threw +things at him from the windows. They would not listen to a word he +said, but sent him back to Lina with the blood running down his face. +When Lina saw that, she leaped up in a fury and was rushing at the +house, into which she would certainly have broken; but Curdie called +her, and made her lie down beside him while he bethought him what next +he should do. + +"Lina," he said, "the people keep their gates open, but their houses and +their hearts shut." + +As if she knew it was her presence that had brought this trouble upon +him, she rose, and went round and round him, purring like a tigress, and +rubbing herself against his legs. + +Now there was one little thatched house that stood squeezed in between +two tall gables, and the sides of the two great houses shot out +projecting windows that nearly met across the roof of the little one, so +that it lay in the street like a doll's house. In this house lived a +poor old woman, with a grandchild. And because she never gossiped or +quarrelled, or chaffered in the market, but went without what she could +not afford, the people called her a witch, and would have done her many +an ill turn if they had not been afraid of her. Now while Curdie was +looking in another direction the door opened, and out came a little +dark-haired, black-eyed, gipsy-looking child, and toddled across the +market-place towards the outcasts. The moment they saw her coming, Lina +lay down flat on the road, and with her two huge fore-paws covered her +mouth, while Curdie went to meet her, holding out his arms. The little +one came straight to him, and held up her mouth to be kissed. Then she +took him by the hand, and drew him towards the house, and Curdie yielded +to the silent invitation. But when Lina rose to follow, the child shrunk +from her, frightened a little. Curdie took her up, and holding her on +one arm, patted Lina with the other hand. Then the child wanted also to +pat doggy, as she called her by a right bountiful stretch of courtesy, +and having once patted her, nothing would serve but Curdie must let her +have a ride on doggy. So he set her on Lina's back, holding her hand, +and she rode home in merry triumph, all unconscious of the hundreds of +eyes staring at her foolhardiness from the windows about the +market-place, or the murmur of deep disapproval that rose from as many +lips. At the door stood the grandmother to receive them. She caught the +child to her bosom with delight at her courage, welcomed Curdie, and +showed no dread of Lina. Many were the significant nods exchanged, and +many a one said to another that the devil and the witch were old +friends. But the woman was only a wise woman, who having seen how Curdie +and Lina behaved to each other, judged from that what sort they were, +and so made them welcome to her house. She was not like her +fellow-townspeople, for that they were strangers recommended them to +her. + +The moment her door was shut, the other doors began to open, and soon +there appeared little groups about here and there a threshold, while a +few of the more courageous ventured out upon the square--all ready to +make for their houses again, however, upon the least sign of movement in +the little thatched one. + +The baker and the barber had joined one of these groups, and were busily +wagging their tongues against Curdie and his horrible beast. + +"He can't be honest," said the barber; "for he paid me double the worth +of the pane he broke in my window." + +And then he told them how Curdie broke his window by breaking a stone in +the street with his hammer. There the baker struck in. + +"Now that was the stone," said he, "over which I had fallen three times +within the last month: could it be by fair means he broke that to pieces +at the first blow? Just to make up my mind on that point I tried his own +hammer against a stone in the gate; it nearly broke both my arms, and +loosened half the teeth in my head!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +DERBA AND BARBARA. + + +Meantime the wanderers were hospitably entertained by the old woman and +her grandchild, and they were all very comfortable and happy together. +Little Barbara sat upon Curdie's knee, and he told her stories about the +mines and his adventures in them. But he never mentioned the king or the +princess, for all that story was hard to believe. And he told her about +his mother and his father, and how good they were. And Derba sat and +listened. At last little Barbara fell asleep in Curdie's arms, and her +grandmother carried her to bed. + +It was a poor little house, and Derba gave up her own room to Curdie, +because he was honest and talked wisely. Curdie saw how it was, and +begged her to allow him to lie on the floor, but she would not hear of +it. + +In the night he was waked by Lina pulling at him. As soon as he spoke +to her she ceased, and Curdie, listening, thought he heard some one +trying to get in. He rose, took his mattock, and went about the house, +listening and watching; but although he heard noises now at one place, +now at another, he could not think what they meant, for no one appeared. +Certainly, considering how she had frightened them all in the day, it +was not likely any one would attack Lina at night. By-and-by the noises +ceased, and Curdie went back to his bed, and slept undisturbed. + +In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, and said +they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. Curdie +rose immediately and went with her: they found that not only the door, +but every window in the house was so secured on the outside that it was +impossible to open one of them without using great force. Poor Derba +looked anxiously in Curdie's face. He broke out laughing. + +"They are much mistaken," he said, "if they fancy they could keep Lina +and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm--even if they built up doors and +windows." + +With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to make a +hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, she said, and +before it was time for dinner they would know what the people meant by +it. + +And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chief +magistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers with drawn +swords, and followed by a great multitude of the people, requiring the +miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one that he might be tried +for the disturbance he had occasioned and the injury he had committed, +the other that she might be roasted alive for her part in killing two +valuable and harmless animals belonging to worthy citizens. The summons +was preceded and followed by flourish of trumpet, and was read with +every formality by the city marshal himself. + +The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stood +opposite the door. + +"I surrender," cried Curdie. + +"Then tie up your brute, and give her here." + +"No, no," cried Curdie through the door. "I surrender; but I'm not going +to do your hangman's work. If you want my dog, you must take her." + +"Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all." + +"It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of you first," +cried Curdie. "We're not the least afraid of you." + +With that Curdie turned to Derba, and said:-- + +"Don't be frightened. I have a strong feeling that all will be well. +Surely no trouble will come to you for being good to strangers." + +"But the poor dog!" said Derba. + +Now Curdie and Lina understood each other more than a little by this +time, and not only had he seen that she understood the proclamation, but +when she looked up at him after it was read, it was with such a grin, +and such a yellow flash, that he saw also she was determined to take +care of herself. + +"The dog will probably give you reason to think a little more of her ere +long," he answered. "But now," he went on, "I fear I must hurt your +house a little. I have great confidence, however, that I shall be able +to make up to you for it one day." + +"Never mind the house, if only you can get safe off," she answered. "I +don't think they will hurt this precious lamb," she added, clasping +little Barbara to her bosom. "For myself, it is all one; I am ready for +anything." + +"It is but a little hole for Lina I want to make," said Curdie. "She can +creep through a much smaller one than you would think." + +Again he took his mattock, and went to the back wall. + +"They won't burn the house," he said to himself. "There is too good a +one on each side of it." + +The tumult had kept increasing every moment, and the city marshal had +been shouting, but Curdie had not listened to him. When now they heard +the blows of his mattock, there went up a great cry, and the people +taunted the soldiers that they were afraid of a dog and his miner. The +soldiers therefore made a rush at the door, and cut its fastenings. + +The moment they opened it, out leaped Lina, with a roar so unnaturally +horrible that the sword-arms of the soldiers dropped by their sides, +paralysed with the terror of that cry; the crowd fled in every +direction, shrieking and yelling with mortal dismay; and without even +knocking down with her tail, not to say biting a man of them with her +pulverizing jaws, Lina vanished--no one knew whither, for not one of the +crowd had had courage to look upon her. + +The moment she was gone, Curdie advanced and gave himself up. The +soldiers were so filled with fear, shame, and chagrin, that they were +ready to kill him on the spot. But he stood quietly facing them, with +his mattock on his shoulder; and the magistrate wishing to examine him, +and the people to see him made an example of, the soldiers had to +content themselves with taking him. Partly for derision, partly to hurt +him, they laid his mattock against his back, and tied his arms to it. + +They led him up a very steep street, and up another still, all the crowd +following. The king's palace-castle rose towering above them; but they +stopped before they reached it, at a low-browed door in a great, dull, +heavy-looking building. + +The city marshal opened it with a key which hung at his girdle, and +ordered Curdie to enter. The place within was dark as night, and while +he was feeling his way with his feet, the marshal gave him a rough push. +He fell, and rolled once or twice over, unable to help himself because +his hands were tied behind him. + +It was the hour of the magistrate's second and more important breakfast, +and until that was over he never found himself capable of attending to a +case with concentration sufficient to the distinguishing of the side +upon which his own advantage lay; and hence was this respite for Curdie, +with time to collect his thoughts. But indeed he had very few to +collect, for all he had to do, so far as he could see, was to wait for +what would come next. Neither had he much power to collect them, for he +was a good deal shaken. + +In a few minutes he discovered, to his great relief, that, from the +projection of the pick-end of his mattock beyond his body, the fall had +loosened the ropes tied round it. He got one hand disengaged, and then +the other; and presently stood free, with his good mattock once more in +right serviceable relation to his arms and legs. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE MATTOCK. + + +While the magistrate reinvigorated his selfishness with a greedy +breakfast, Curdie found doing nothing in the dark rather wearisome work. +It was useless attempting to think what he should do next, seeing the +circumstances in which he was presently to find himself were altogether +unknown to him. So he began to think about his father and mother in +their little cottage home, high in the clear air of the open +mountain-side, and the thought, instead of making his dungeon gloomier +by the contrast, made a light in his soul that destroyed the power of +darkness and captivity. But he was at length startled from his waking +dream by a swell in the noise outside. All the time there had been a few +of the more idle of the inhabitants about the door, but they had been +rather quiet. Now, however, the sounds of feet and voices began to grow, +and grew so rapidly that it was plain a multitude was gathering. For +the people of Gwyntystorm always gave themselves an hour of pleasure +after their second breakfast, and what greater pleasure could they have +than to see a stranger abused by the officers of justice? The noise grew +till it was like the roaring of the sea, and that roaring went on a long +time, for the magistrate, being a great man, liked to know that he was +waited for: it added to the enjoyment of his breakfast, and, indeed, +enabled him to eat a little more after he had thought his powers +exhausted. But at length, in the waves of the human noises rose a bigger +wave, and by the running and shouting and outcry, Curdie learned that +the magistrate was approaching. + +Presently came the sound of the great rusty key in the lock, which +yielded with groaning reluctance; the door was thrown back, the light +rushed in, and with it came the voice of the city marshal, calling upon +Curdie, by many legal epithets opprobrious, to come forth and be tried +for his life, inasmuch as he had raised a tumult in his majesty's city +of Gwyntystorm, troubled the hearts of the king's baker and barber, and +slain the faithful dogs of his majesty's well-beloved butchers. + +He was still reading, and Curdie was still seated in the brown twilight +of the vault, not listening, but pondering with himself how this king +the city marshal talked of could be the same with the majesty he had +seen ride away on his grand white horse, with the Princess Irene on a +cushion before him, when a scream of agonized terror arose on the +farthest skirt of the crowd, and, swifter than flood or flame, the +horror spread shrieking. In a moment the air was filled with hideous +howling, cries of unspeakable dismay, and the multitudinous noise of +running feet. The next moment, in at the door of the vault bounded Lina, +her two green eyes flaming yellow as sunflowers, and seeming to light up +the dungeon. With one spring she threw herself at Curdie's feet, and +laid her head upon them panting. Then came a rush of two or three +soldiers darkening the doorway, but it was only to lay hold of the key, +pull the door to, and lock it; so that once more Curdie and Lina were +prisoners together. + +For a few moments Lina lay panting hard: it is breathless work leaping +and roaring both at once, and that in a way to scatter thousands of +people. Then she jumped up, and began snuffing about all over the place; +and Curdie saw what he had never seen before--two faint spots of light +cast from her eyes upon the ground, one on each side of her snuffing +nose. He got out his tinder-box--a miner is never without one--and +lighted a precious bit of candle he carried in a division of it--just +for a moment, for he must not waste it. + +The light revealed a vault without any window or other opening than the +door. It was very old and much neglected. The mortar had vanished from +between the stones, and it was half filled with a heap of all sorts of +rubbish, beaten down in the middle, but looser at the sides; it sloped +from the door to the foot of the opposite wall: evidently for a long +time the vault had been left open, and every sort of refuse thrown into +it. A single minute served for the survey, so little was there to note. + +Meantime, down in the angle between the back wall and the base of the +heap Lina was scratching furiously with all the eighteen great strong +claws of her mighty feet. + +"Ah, ha!" said Curdie to himself, catching sight of her, "if only they +will leave us long enough to ourselves!" + +With that he ran to the door, to see if there was any fastening on the +inside. There was none: in all its long history it never had had one. +But a few blows of the right sort, now from the one, now from the other +end of his mattock, were as good as any bolt, for they so ruined the +lock that no key could ever turn in it again. Those who heard them +fancied he was trying to get out, and laughed spitefully. As soon as he +had done, he extinguished his candle, and went down to Lina. + +She had reached the hard rock which formed the floor of the dungeon, and +was now clearing away the earth a little wider. Presently she looked up +in his face and whined, as much as to say, "My paws are not hard enough +to get any further." + +"Then get out of my way, Lina," said Curdie, "and mind you keep your +eyes shining, for fear I should hit you." + +So saying, he heaved his mattock, and assailed with the hammer end of it +the spot she had cleared. + +The rock was very hard, but when it did break it broke in good-sized +pieces. Now with hammer, now with pick, he worked till he was weary, +then rested, and then set to again. He could not tell how the day went, +as he had no light but the lamping of Lina's eyes. The darkness hampered +him greatly, for he would not let Lina come close enough to give him all +the light she could, lest he should strike her. So he had, every now and +then, to feel with his hands to know how he was getting on, and to +discover in what direction to strike: the exact spot was a mere +imagination. + +He was getting very tired and hungry, and beginning to lose heart a +little, when out of the ground, as if he had struck a spring of it, +burst a dull, gleamy, lead-coloured light, and the next moment he heard +a hollow splash and echo. A piece of rock had fallen out of the floor, +and dropped into water beneath. Already Lina, who had been lying a few +yards off all the time he worked, was on her feet and peering through +the hole. Curdie got down on his hands and knees, and looked. They were +over what seemed a natural cave in the rock, to which apparently the +river had access, for, at a great distance below, a faint light was +gleaming upon water. If they could but reach it, they might get out; but +even if it was deep enough, the height was very dangerous. The first +thing, whatever might follow, was to make the hole larger. It was +comparatively easy to break away the sides of it, and in the course of +another hour he had it large enough to get through. + +And now he must reconnoitre. He took the rope they had tied him +with--for Curdie's hindrances were always his furtherance--and fastened +one end of it by a slip-knot round the handle of his pickaxe, then +dropped the other end through, and laid the pickaxe so that, when he was +through himself, and hanging on to the edge, he could place it across +the hole to support him on the rope. This done, he took the rope in his +hands, and, beginning to descend, found himself in a narrow cleft +widening into a cave. His rope was not very long, and would not do much +to lessen the force of his fall--he thought with himself--if he should +have to drop into the water; but he was not more than a couple of yards +below the dungeon when he spied an opening on the opposite side of the +cleft: it might be but a shallow hole, or it might lead them out. He +dropped himself a little below its level, gave the rope a swing by +pushing his feet against the side of the cleft, and so penduled himself +into it. Then he laid a stone on the end of the rope that it should not +forsake him, called to Lina, whose yellow eyes were gleaming over the +mattock-grating above, to watch there till he returned, and went +cautiously in. + +It proved a passage, level for some distance, then sloping gently up. He +advanced carefully, feeling his way as he went. At length he was stopped +by a door--a small door, studded with iron. But the wood was in places +so much decayed that some of the bolts had dropped out, and he felt sure +of being able to open it. He returned, therefore, to fetch Lina and his +mattock. Arrived at the cleft, his strong miner arms bore him swiftly up +along the rope and through the hole into the dungeon. There he undid the +rope from his mattock, and making Lina take the end of it in her teeth, +and get through the hole, he lowered her--it was all he could do, she +was so heavy. When she came opposite the passage, with a slight push of +her tail she shot herself into it, and let go the rope, which Curdie +drew up. Then he lighted his candle and searching in the rubbish found a +bit of iron to take the place of his pickaxe across the hole. Then he +searched again in the rubbish, and found half an old shutter. This he +propped up leaning a little over the hole, with a bit of stick, and +heaped against the back of it a quantity of the loosened earth. Next he +tied his mattock to the end of the rope, dropped it, and let it hang. +Last, he got through the hole himself, and pulled away the propping +stick, so that the shutter fell over the hole with a quantity of earth +on the top of it. A few motions of hand over hand, and he swung himself +and his mattock into the passage beside Lina. There he secured the end +of the rope, and they went on together to the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE WINE-CELLAR. + + +He lighted his candle and examined it. Decayed and broken as it was, it +was strongly secured in its place by hinges on the one side, and either +lock or bolt, he could not tell which, on the other. A brief use of his +pocket-knife was enough to make room for his hand and arm to get +through, and then he found a great iron bolt--but so rusty that he could +not move it. Lina whimpered. He took his knife again, made the hole +bigger, and stood back. In she shot her small head and long neck, seized +the bolt with her teeth, and dragged it grating and complaining back. A +push then opened the door. It was at the foot of a short flight of +steps. They ascended, and at the top Curdie found himself in a space +which, from the echo to his stamp, appeared of some size, though of what +sort he could not at first tell, for his hands, feeling about, came upon +nothing. Presently, however, they fell on a great thing: it was a +wine-cask. + +[Illustration: "_Curdie was just setting out to explore the place when +he heard steps coming down a stair._"] + +He was just setting out to explore the place by a thorough palpation, +when he heard steps coming down a stair. He stood still, not knowing +whether the door would open an inch from his nose or twenty yards behind +his back. It did neither. He heard the key turn in the lock, and a +stream of light shot in, ruining the darkness, about fifteen yards away +on his right. + +A man carrying a candle in one hand and a large silver flagon in the +other, entered, and came towards him. The light revealed a row of huge +wine-casks, that stretched away into the darkness of the other end of +the long vault. Curdie retreated into the recess of the stair, and +peeping round the corner of it, watched him, thinking what he could do +to prevent him from locking them in. He came on and on, until Curdie +feared he would pass the recess and see them. He was just preparing to +rush out, and master him before he should give alarm, not in the least +knowing what he should do next, when, to his relief, the man stopped at +the third cask from where he stood. He set down his light on the top of +it, removed what seemed a large vent-peg, and poured into the cask a +quantity of something from the flagon. Then he turned to the next cask, +drew some wine, rinsed the flagon, threw the wine away, drew and rinsed +and threw away again, then drew and drank, draining to the bottom. Last +of all, he filled the flagon from the cask he had first visited, +replaced then the vent-peg, took up his candle, and turned towards the +door. + +"There is something wrong here!" thought Curdie. + +"Speak to him, Lina," he whispered. + +The sudden howl she gave made Curdie himself start and tremble for a +moment. As to the man, he answered Lina's with another horrible howl, +forced from him by the convulsive shudder of every muscle of his body, +then reeled gasping to and fro, and dropped his candle. But just as +Curdie expected to see him fall dead he recovered himself, and flew to +the door, through which he darted, leaving it open behind him. The +moment he ran, Curdie stepped out, picked up the candle still alight, +sped after him to the door, drew out the key, and then returned to the +stair and waited. In a few minutes he heard the sound of many feet and +voices. Instantly he turned the tap of the cask from which the man had +been drinking, set the candle beside it on the floor, went down the +steps and out of the little door, followed by Lina, and closed it behind +them. + +Through the hole in it he could see a little, and hear all. He could see +how the light of many candles filled the place, and could hear how some +two dozen feet ran hither and thither through the echoing cellar; he +could hear the clash of iron, probably spits and pokers, now and then; +and at last heard how, finding nothing remarkable except the best wine +running to waste, they all turned on the butler, and accused him of +having fooled them with a drunken dream. He did his best to defend +himself, appealing to the evidence of their own senses that he was as +sober as they were. They replied that a fright was no less a fright that +the cause was imaginary, and a dream no less a dream that the fright had +waked him from it. When he discovered, and triumphantly adduced as +corroboration, that the key was gone from the door, they said it merely +showed how drunk he had been--either that or how frightened, for he had +certainly dropped it. In vain he protested that he had never taken it +out of the lock--that he never did when he went in, and certainly had +not this time stopped to do so when he came out; they asked him why he +had to go to the cellar at such a time of the day, and said it was +because he had already drunk all the wine that was left from dinner. He +said if he had dropped the key, the key was to be found, and they must +help him to find it. They told him they wouldn't move a peg for him. He +declared, with much language, he would have them all turned out of the +king's service. They said they would swear he was drunk. And so positive +were they about it, that at last the butler himself began to think +whether it was possible they could be in the right. For he knew that +sometimes when he had been drunk he fancied things had taken place +which he found afterwards could not have happened. Certain of his +fellow-servants, however, had all the time a doubt whether the cellar +goblin had not appeared to him, or at least roared at him, to protect +the wine. In any case nobody wanted to find the key for him; nothing +could please them better than that the door of the wine-cellar should +never more be locked. By degrees the hubbub died away, and they +departed, not even pulling to the door, for there was neither handle nor +latch to it. + +As soon as they were gone, Curdie returned, knowing now that they were +in the wine-cellar of the palace, as, indeed, he had suspected. Finding +a pool of wine in a hollow of the floor, Lina lapped it up eagerly: she +had had no breakfast, and was now very thirsty as well as hungry. Her +master was in a similar plight, for he had but just begun to eat when +the magistrate arrived with the soldiers. If only they were all in bed, +he thought, that he might find his way to the larder! For he said to +himself that, as he was sent there by the young princess's +great-great-grandmother to serve her or her father in some way, surely +he must have a right to his food in the palace, without which he could +do nothing. He would go at once and reconnoitre. + +So he crept up the stair that led from the cellar. At the top was a +door, opening on a long passage, dimly lighted by a lamp. He told Lina +to lie down upon the stair while he went on. At the end of the passage +he found a door ajar, and, peeping through, saw right into a great stone +hall, where a huge fire was blazing, and through which men in the king's +livery were constantly coming and going. Some also in the same livery +were lounging about the fire. He noted that their colours were the same +with those he himself, as king's miner, wore; but from what he had seen +and heard of the habits of the place, he could not hope they would treat +him the better for that. + +The one interesting thing at the moment, however, was the plentiful +supper with which the table was spread. It was something at least to +stand in sight of food, and he was unwilling to turn his back on the +prospect so long as a share in it was not absolutely hopeless. Peeping +thus, he soon made up his mind that if at any moment the hall should be +empty, he would at that moment rush in and attempt to carry off a dish. +That he might lose no time by indecision, he selected a large pie upon +which to pounce instantaneously. But after he had watched for some +minutes, it did not seem at all likely the chance would arrive before +supper-time, and he was just about to turn away and rejoin Lina, when he +saw that there was not a person in the place. Curdie never made up his +mind and then hesitated. He darted in, seized the pie, and bore it, +swiftly and noiselessly, to the cellar stair. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE KING'S KITCHEN. + + +Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where, seated +on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. A very +little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it in examination +of the pie; that they effected by a more summary process. Curdie thought +it the nicest food he had ever tasted, and between them they soon ate it +up. Then Curdie would have thrown the dish along with the bones into the +water, that there might be no traces of them; but he thought of his +mother, and hid it instead; and the very next minute they wanted it to +draw some wine into. He was careful it should be from the cask of which +he had seen the butler drink. Then they sat down again upon the steps, +and waited until the house should be quiet. For he was there to do +something, and if it did not come to him in the cellar, he must go to +meet it in other places. Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set +the end of the helve of his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on +the cross part, leaning against the wall, so that as long as he kept +awake he should rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep he must +fall awake instead. He quite expected some of the servants would visit +the cellar again that night, but whether it was that they were afraid of +each other, or believed more of the butler's story than they had chosen +to allow, not one of them appeared. + +When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered his mattock +and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage, but he could +not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting to Lina's quickness in +concealing herself, he took her with him. + +When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. The last +of the great fire was glowing red, but giving little light. Curdie stood +and warmed himself for a few moments: miner as he was, he had found the +cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; and standing thus he thought of +looking if there were any bits of candle about. There were many +candlesticks on the supper-table, but to his disappointment and +indignation their candles seemed to have been all left to burn out, and +some of them, indeed, he found still hot in the neck. + +Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep, most +of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. They seemed, +from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk so much that they +might be burned alive without waking. He grasped the hand of each in +succession, and found two ox-hoofs, three pig-hoofs, one concerning +which he could not be sure whether it was the hoof of a donkey or a +pony, and one dog's paw. "A nice set of people to be about a king!" +thought Curdie to himself, and turned again to his candle hunt. He did +at last find two or three little pieces, and stowed them away in his +pockets. + +They now left the hall by another door, and entered a short passage, +which led them to the huge kitchen, vaulted, and black with smoke. There +too the fire was still burning, so that he was able to see a little of +the state of things in this quarter also. The place was dirty and +disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of brushwood, lay a kitchenmaid, with +a table-cover around her, and a skillet in her hand: evidently she too +had been drinking. In another corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how +like his dress was to his own. In the cinders before the hearth were +huddled three dogs and five cats, all fast asleep, while the rats were +running about the floor. Curdie's heart ached to think of the lovely +child-princess living over such a sty. The mine was a paradise to a +palace with such servants in it. + +Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. There +horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that come forth +with the darkness. He lighted a candle--but only to see ugly sights. +Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy turn-spit dogs were lying +about, and gray rats were gnawing at refuse in the sinks. It was like a +hideous dream. He felt as if he should never get out of it, and longed +for one glimpse of his mother's poor little kitchen, so clean and bright +and airy. Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he almost ran +back through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed it to another +door. + +It opened upon a wider passage, leading to an arch in a stately +corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of it +was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat three men +in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great arm-chair, with his +feet on a huge footstool. They looked like fools dreaming themselves +kings; and Lina looked as if she longed to throttle them. At one side of +the hall was the grand staircase, and they went up. + +Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich--not glorious like the +splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft--except where, now +and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress came through, hard +and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of stone, now some rugged and +blackened pillar, now some huge beam, brown with the smoke and dust of +centuries, looked like a thistle in the midst of daisies, or a rock in a +smooth lawn. + +They wandered about a good while, again and again finding themselves +where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie was gaining some +idea of the place. By-and-by Lina began to look frightened, and as they +went on Curdie saw that she looked more and more frightened. Now, by +this time he had come to understand that what made her look frightened +was always the fear of frightening, and he therefore concluded they must +be drawing nigh to somebody. At last, in a gorgeously-painted gallery, +he saw a curtain of crimson, and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in +silks and stones. He felt sure this must be the king's chamber, and it +was here he was wanted; or, if it was not the place he was bound for, +something would meet him and turn him aside; for he had come to think +that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where he can: when he +can go no further, then it is not the way. "Only," said his father, in +assenting to the theory, "he must really want to do right, and not +merely fancy he does. He must want it with his heart and will, and not +with his rag of a tongue." + +So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it was a +half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina stretched +herself along the threshold between the curtain and the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE KING'S CHAMBER. + + +He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp that +hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed, surrounded +with dark heavy curtains. He went softly towards it, his heart beating +fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the king's chamber at the +dead of night. To gain courage he had to remind himself of the beautiful +princess who had sent him. But when he was about halfway to the bed, a +figure appeared from the farther side of it, and came towards him, with +a hand raised warningly. He stood still. The light was dim, and he could +distinguish little more than the outline of a young girl. But though the +form he saw was much taller than the princess he remembered, he never +doubted it was she. For one thing, he knew that most girls would have +been frightened to see him there in the dead of the night, but like a +true princess, and the princess he used to know, she walked straight on +to meet him. As she came she lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid +the forefinger of it upon her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, +close up to him she came, then stopped, and stood a moment looking at +him. + +"You are Curdie," she said. + +"And you are the Princess Irene," he returned. + +"Then we know each other still," she said, with a sad smile of pleasure. +"You will help me." + +"That I will," answered Curdie. He did not say, "If I can;" for he knew +that what he was sent to do, that he could do. "May I kiss your hand, +little princess?" + +She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several +years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she had had +terrible trouble of late. + +She held out her hand. + +"I am not the _little_ princess any more. I have grown up since I saw +you last, Mr. Miner." + +The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture of +playfulness and sadness. + +"So I see, Miss Princess," returned Curdie; "and therefore, being more +of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent by your +great-great-grandmother, to be your servant.--May I ask why you are up +so late, princess?" + +"Because my father wakes _so_ frightened, and I don't know what he +_would_ do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking now." + +She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from. Curdie stood +where he was. + +A voice altogether unlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble king +on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow, and husky, +and in tone like that of a petulant child:-- + +"I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I _will_ be a king. I hate you +and despise you, and you shall not torture me!" + +"Never mind them, father dear," said the princess. "I am here, and they +shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you defy them." + +"They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can I? for +what is a king without his crown?" + +"They shall never have your crown, my king," said Irene. "Here it +is--all safe, you see. I am watching it for you." + +Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand old +king--he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body was +pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the crimson +coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming in the +twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long, thin old hands +folded round the rigol, and the ends of his beard straying among the +lovely stones. His face was like that of a man who had died fighting +nobly; but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while they moved about +as if searching in this direction and in that, looked more dead than his +face. He saw neither his daughter nor his crown: it was the voice of the +one and the touch of the other that comforted him. He kept murmuring +what seemed words, but was unintelligible to Curdie, although, to judge +from the look of Irene's face, she learned and concluded from it. + +By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although still +his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering with his +crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely little +maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back from her +temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but herself; and on the +other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock over his shoulder. +Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the threshold--only nobody saw +her just then. + +A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing had +grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief, and came +round to Curdie. + +"We can talk a little now," she said, leading him towards the middle of +the room. "My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him to give +him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, but wine. Nothing +but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so long alive. He always +comes in the middle of the night to give it him with his own hands. But +it makes me cry to see him waked up when so nicely asleep." + +"What sort of man is your doctor?" asked Curdie. + +"Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!" replied the princess. "He +speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be here +presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like him very much." + +"Has your king-father been long ill?" asked Curdie. + +"A whole year now," she replied. "Did you not know? That's how your +mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her. The lord +chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole land was +mourning over the illness of the good man." + +Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of his majesty's illness, and +had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he had +visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, although mention had +been made of his majesty again and again in his hearing since he came to +Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion to the state of his +health. And now it dawned upon him also that he had never heard the +least expression of love to him. But just for the time he thought it +better to say nothing on either point. + +"Does the king wander like this every night?" he asked. + +"Every night," answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. "That is why +I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day--a little, and +then I sleep--in the dressing-room there, to be with him in a moment if +he should call me. It is _so_ sad he should have only me and not my +mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!" + +"I wish he would like me," said Curdie, "for then I might watch by him +at night, and let you go to bed, princess." + +"Don't you know then?" returned Irene, in wonder. "How was it you +came?--Ah! you said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you knew that +he wanted you." + +And again she opened wide her blue stars. + +"Not I," said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad. + +"He used to be constantly saying--he was not so ill then as he is +now--that he wished he had you about him." + +"And I never to know it!" said Curdie, with displeasure. + +"The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had written +to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the miner-general +wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told the secretary, and +the secretary told my father, that they had searched every mine in the +kingdom and could hear nothing of you. My father gave a great sigh, and +said he feared the goblins had got you after all, and your father and +mother were dead of grief. And he has never mentioned you since, except +when wandering. I cried very much. But one of my grandmother's pigeons +with its white wing flashed a message to me through the window one day, +and then I knew that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my +grandmother wouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him be eaten +the next. Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find you?" + +"We will talk about that another time, when we are not expecting the +doctor," said Curdie. + +As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the table under the +lamp. His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer.--Yes, there +could be no doubt;--it was the same flagon that the butler had filled in +the wine-cellar. + +"It looks worse and worse!" he said to himself, and went back to Irene, +where she stood half dreaming. + +"When will the doctor be here?" he asked once more--this time hurriedly. + +The question was answered--not by the princess, but by something which +that instant tumbled heavily into the room. Curdie flew towards it in +vague terror about Lina. + +On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, and uttering +incoherent language. Curdie thought of his mattock, and ran and laid it +aside. + +"Oh, dear Dr. Kelman!" cried the princess, running up and taking hold of +his arm; "I am _so_ sorry!" She pulled and pulled, but might almost as +well have tried to set up a cannon-ball. "I hope you have not hurt +yourself?" + +"Not at all, not at all," said the doctor, trying to smile and to rise +both at once, but finding it impossible to do either. + +"If he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast," said Curdie +to himself, and held out his hand to help him. + +But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again, for +what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a creeping thing. +He managed, however, to hold both his peace and his grasp, and pulled +the doctor roughly on his legs--such as they were. + +"Your royal highness has rather a thick mat at the door," said the +doctor, patting his palms together. "I hope my awkwardness may not have +startled his majesty." + +While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there. + +The doctor approached the bed. + +"And how has my beloved king slept to-night?" he asked. + +"No better," answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head. + +"Ah, that is very well!" returned the doctor, his fall seeming to have +muddled either his words or his meaning. "We must give him his wine, and +then he will be better still." + +Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had expected +to find it full, but had found it empty. + +"That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!" he cried in a loud +whisper, and was gliding from the room. + +"Come here with that flagon, you! page!" cried the doctor. + +Curdie came a few steps towards him with the flagon dangling from his +hand, heedless of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thick carpet. + +"Are you aware, young man," said the doctor, "that it is not every wine +can do his majesty the benefit I intend he should derive from my +prescription?" + +"Quite aware, sir," answered Curdie. "The wine for his majesty's use is +in the third cask from the corner." + +"Fly, then," said the doctor, looking satisfied. + +Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath--no more: +up came Lina noiseless as a shadow. He showed her the flagon. + +"The cellar, Lina: go," he said. + +She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly to keep +up with her. Not once did she make even a dubious turn. From the king's +gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot. Curdie dashed the wine +down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as he had seen the butler do, +filled it from the cask of which he had seen the butler drink, and +hastened with it up again to the king's room. + +The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but did not +taste it, and set it down. Then he leaned over the bed, shouted in the +king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm: Curdie thought he +saw him run something bright into it. At last the king half woke. The +doctor seized the glass, raised his head, poured the wine down his +throat, and let his head fall back on the pillow again. Tenderly wiping +his beard, and bidding the princess good-night in paternal tones, he +then took his leave. Curdie would gladly have driven his pick into his +head, but that was not in his commission, and he let him go. + +The little round man looked very carefully to his feet as he crossed the +threshold. + +"That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat," he said to +himself, as he walked along the corridor. "I must remember him." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +COUNTER-PLOTTING. + + +Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things were going, +to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him, and they +must work together. It was clear that amongst those about the king there +was a plot against him: for one thing, they had agreed in a lie +concerning himself; and it was plain also that the doctor was working +out a design against the health and reason of his majesty, rendering the +question of his life a matter of little moment. It was in itself +sufficient to justify the worst fears, that the people outside the +palace were ignorant of his majesty's condition: he believed those +inside it also--the butler excepted--were ignorant of it as well. +Doubtless his majesty's councillors desired to alienate the hearts of +his subjects from their sovereign. Curdie's idea was that they intended +to kill the king, marry the princess to one of themselves, and found a +new dynasty; but whatever their purpose, there was treason in the palace +of the worst sort: they were making and keeping the king incapable, in +order to effect that purpose. The first thing to be seen to therefore +was, that his majesty should neither eat morsel nor drink drop of +anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this have been managed +without the princess, Curdie would have preferred leaving her in +ignorance of the horrors from which he sought to deliver her. He feared +also the danger of her knowledge betraying itself to the evil eyes about +her; but it must be risked--and she had always been a wise child. + +Another thing was clear to him--that with such traitors no terms of +honour were either binding or possible, and that, short of lying, he +might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubt that the old +princess had sent him expressly to frustrate their plans. + +While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess was earnestly +watching the king, with looks of childish love and womanly tenderness +that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then with a great fan of peacock +feathers she would fan him very softly; now and then, seeing a cloud +begin to gather upon the sky of his sleeping face, she would climb upon +the bed, and bending to his ear whisper into it, then draw back and +watch again--generally to see the cloud disperse. In his deepest +slumber, the soul of the king lay open to the voice of his child, and +that voice had power either to change the aspect of his visions, or, +which was better still, to breathe hope into his heart, and courage to +endure them. + +Curdie came near, and softly called her. + +"I can't leave papa just yet," she returned, in a low voice. + +"I will wait," said Curdie; "but I want very much to say something." + +In a few minutes she came to him where he stood under the lamp. + +"Well, Curdie, what is it?" she said. + +"Princess," he replied, "I want to tell you that I have found why your +grandmother sent me." + +"Come this way, then," she answered, "where I can see the face of my +king." + +Curdie placed a chair for her in the spot she chose, where she would be +near enough to mark any slightest change on her father's countenance, +yet where their low-voiced talk would not disturb him. There he sat down +beside her and told her all the story--how her grandmother had sent her +good pigeon for him, and how she had instructed him, and sent him there +without telling him what he had to do. Then he told her what he had +discovered of the state of things generally in Gwyntystorm, and +specially what he had heard and seen in the palace that night. + +"Things are in a bad state enough," he said in conclusion;--"lying and +selfishness and inhospitality and dishonesty everywhere; and to crown +all, they speak with disrespect of the good king, and not a man of them +knows he is ill." + +"You frighten me dreadfully," said Irene, trembling. + +"You must be brave for your king's sake," said Curdie. + +"Indeed I will," she replied, and turned a long loving look upon the +beautiful face of her father. "But what _is_ to be done? And how _am_ I +to believe such horrible things of Dr. Kelman?" + +"My dear princess," replied Curdie, "you know nothing of him but his +face and his tongue, and they are both false. Either you must beware of +him, or you must doubt your grandmother and me; for I tell you, by the +gift she gave me of testing hands, that this man is a snake. That round +body he shows is but the case of a serpent. Perhaps the creature lies +there, as in its nest, coiled round and round inside." + +"Horrible!" said Irene. + +"Horrible indeed; but we must not try to get rid of horrible things by +refusing to look at them, and saying they are not there. Is not your +beautiful father sleeping better since he had the wine?" + +"Yes." + +"Does he always sleep better after having it?" + +She reflected an instant. + +"No; always worse--till to-night," she answered. + +"Then remember that was the wine I got him--not what the butler drew. +Nothing that passes through any hand in the house except yours or mine +must henceforth, till he is well, reach his majesty's lips." + +"But how, dear Curdie?" said the princess, almost crying. + +"That we must contrive," answered Curdie. "I know how to take care of +the wine; but for his food--now we must think." + +"He takes hardly any," said the princess, with a pathetic shake of her +little head which Curdie had almost learned to look for. + +"The more need," he replied, "there should be no poison in it." Irene +shuddered. "As soon as he has honest food he will begin to grow better. +And you must be just as careful with yourself, princess," Curdie went +on, "for you don't know when they may begin to poison you too." + +"There's no fear of me; don't talk about me," said Irene. "The good +food!--how are we to get it, Curdie? That is the whole question." + +"I am thinking hard," answered Curdie. "The good food? Let me see--let +me see!--Such servants as I saw below are sure to have the best of +everything for themselves: I will go and see what I can find on their +supper-table." + +"The chancellor sleeps in the house, and he and the master of the king's +horse always have their supper together in a room off the great hall, to +the right as you go down the stair," said Irene. "I would go with you, +but I dare not leave my father. Alas! he scarcely ever takes more than a +mouthful. I can't think how he lives! And the very thing he would like, +and often asks for--a bit of bread--I can hardly ever get for him: Dr. +Kelman has forbidden it, and says it is nothing less than poison to +him." + +"Bread at least he _shall_ have," said Curdie; "and that, with the +honest wine, will do as well as anything, I do believe. I will go at +once and look for some. But I want you to see Lina first, and know her, +lest, coming upon her by accident at any time, you should be +frightened." + +"I should like much to see her," said the princess. + +Warning her not to be startled by her ugliness, he went to the door and +called her. + +She entered, creeping with downcast head, and dragging her tail over the +floor behind her. Curdie watched the princess as the frightful creature +came nearer and nearer. One shudder went from head to foot of her, and +next instant she stepped to meet her. Lina dropped flat on the floor, +and covered her face with her two big paws. It went to the heart of the +princess: in a moment she was on her knees beside her, stroking her ugly +head, and patting her all over. + +"Good dog! Dear ugly dog!" she said. + +Lina whimpered. + +"I believe," said Curdie, "from what your grandmother told me, that Lina +is a woman, and that she was naughty, but is now growing good." + +Lina had lifted her head while Irene was caressing her; now she dropped +it again between her paws; but the princess took it in her hands, and +kissed the forehead betwixt the gold-green eyes. + +"Shall I take her with me or leave her?" asked Curdie. + +"Leave her, poor dear," said Irene, and Curdie, knowing the way now, +went without her. + +He took his way first to the room the princess had spoken of, and there +also were the remains of supper; but neither there nor in the kitchen +could he find a scrap of plain wholesome-looking bread. So he returned +and told her that as soon as it was light he would go into the city for +some, and asked her for a handkerchief to tie it in. If he could not +bring it himself, he would send it by Lina, who could keep out of sight +better than he, and as soon as all was quiet at night he would come to +her again. He also asked her to tell the king that he was in the house. + +His hope lay in the fact that bakers everywhere go to work early. But it +was yet much too early. So he persuaded the princess to lie down, +promising to call her if the king should stir. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE LOAF. + + +His majesty slept very quietly. The dawn had grown almost day, and still +Curdie lingered, unwilling to disturb the princess. + +At last, however, he called her, and she was in the room in a moment. +She had slept, she said, and felt quite fresh. Delighted to find her +father still asleep, and so peacefully, she pushed her chair close to +the bed, and sat down with her hands in her lap. + +Curdie got his mattock from where he had hidden it behind a great +mirror, and went to the cellar, followed by Lina. They took some +breakfast with them as they passed through the hall, and as soon as they +had eaten it went out the back way. + +At the mouth of the passage Curdie seized the rope, drew himself up, +pushed away the shutter, and entered the dungeon. Then he swung the end +of the rope to Lina, and she caught it in her teeth. When her master +said, "Now, Lina!" she gave a great spring, and he ran away with the end +of the rope as fast as ever he could. And such a spring had she made, +that by the time he had to bear her weight she was within a few feet of +the hole. The instant she got a paw through, she was all through. + +Apparently their enemies were waiting till hunger should have cowed +them, for there was no sign of any attempt having been made to open the +door. A blow or two of Curdie's mattock drove the shattered lock clean +from it, and telling Lina to wait there till he came back, and let no +one in, he walked out into the silent street, and drew the door to +behind him. He could hardly believe it was not yet a whole day since he +had been thrown in there with his hands tied at his back. + +Down the town he went, walking in the middle of the street, that, if any +one saw him, he might see he was not afraid, and hesitate to rouse an +attack on him. As to the dogs, ever since the death of their two +companions, a shadow that looked like a mattock was enough to make them +scamper. As soon as he reached the archway of the city gate he turned to +reconnoitre the baker's shop, and perceiving no sign of movement, waited +there watching for the first. + +After about an hour, the door opened, and the baker's man appeared with +a pail in his hand. He went to a pump that stood in the street, and +having filled his pail returned with it into the shop. Curdie stole +after him, found the door on the latch, opened it very gently, peeped +in, saw nobody, and entered. Remembering perfectly from what shelf the +baker's wife had taken the loaf she said was the best, and seeing just +one upon it, he seized it, laid the price of it on the counter, and sped +softly out, and up the street. Once more in the dungeon beside Lina, his +first thought was to fasten up the door again, which would have been +easy, so many iron fragments of all sorts and sizes lay about; but he +bethought himself that if he left it as it was, and they came to find +him, they would conclude at once that they had made their escape by it, +and would look no farther so as to discover the hole. He therefore +merely pushed the door close and left it. Then once more carefully +arranging the earth behind the shutter, so that it should again fall +with it, he returned to the cellar. + +And now he had to convey the loaf to the princess. If he could venture +to take it himself, well; if not, he would send Lina. He crept to the +door of the servants' hall, and found the sleepers beginning to stir. +One said it was time to go to bed; another, that he would go to the +cellar instead, and have a mug of wine to waken him up; while a third +challenged a fourth to give him his revenge at some game or other. + +"Oh, hang your losses!" answered his companion; "you'll soon pick up +twice as much about the house, if you but keep your eyes open." + +Perceiving there would be risk in attempting to pass through, and +reflecting that the porters in the great hall would probably be awake +also, Curdie went back to the cellar, took Irene's handkerchief with the +loaf in it, tied it round Lina's neck, and told her to take it to the +princess. + +Using every shadow and every shelter, Lina slid through the servants +like a shapeless terror through a guilty mind, and so, by corridor and +great hall, up the stair to the king's chamber. + +Irene trembled a little when she saw her glide soundless in across the +silent dusk of the morning, that filtered through the heavy drapery of +the windows, but she recovered herself at once when she saw the bundle +about her neck, for it both assured her of Curdie's safety, and gave her +hope of her father's. She untied it with joy, and Lina stole away, +silent as she had come. Her joy was the greater that the king had woke +up a little while before, and expressed a desire for food--not that he +felt exactly hungry, he said, and yet he wanted something. If only he +might have a piece of nice fresh bread! Irene had no knife, but with +eager hands she broke a great piece from the loaf, and poured out a full +glass of wine. The king ate and drank, enjoyed the bread and the wine +much, and instantly fell asleep again. + +It was hours before the lazy people brought their breakfast. When it +came, Irene crumbled a little about, threw some into the fire-place, and +managed to make the tray look just as usual. + +In the meantime, down below in the cellar, Curdie was lying in the +hollow between the upper sides of two of the great casks, the warmest +place he could find. Lina was watching. She lay at his feet, across the +two casks, and did her best so to arrange her huge tail that it should +be a warm coverlid for her master. + +By-and-by Dr. Kelman called to see his patient; and now that Irene's +eyes were opened, she saw clearly enough that he was both annoyed and +puzzled at finding his majesty rather better. He pretended however to +congratulate him, saying he believed he was quite fit to see the lord +chamberlain: he wanted his signature to something important; only he +must not strain his mind to understand it, whatever it might be: if his +majesty did, he would not be answerable for the consequences. The king +said he would see the lord chamberlain, and the doctor went. Then Irene +gave him more bread and wine, and the king ate and drank, and smiled a +feeble smile, the first real one she had seen for many a day. He said he +felt much better, and would soon be able to take matters into his own +hands again. He had a strange miserable feeling, he said, that things +were going terribly wrong, although he could not tell how. Then the +princess told him that Curdie was come, and that at night, when all was +quiet, for nobody in the palace must know, he would pay his majesty a +visit. Her great-great-grandmother had sent him, she said. The king +looked strangely upon her, but, the strange look passed into a smile +clearer than the first, and Irene's heart throbbed with delight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN. + + +At noon the lord chamberlain appeared. With a long, low bow, and paper +in hand, he stepped softly into the room. Greeting his majesty with +every appearance of the profoundest respect, and congratulating him on +the evident progress he had made, he declared himself sorry to trouble +him, but there were certain papers, he said, which required his +signature--and therewith drew nearer to the king, who lay looking at him +doubtfully. He was a lean, long, yellow man, with a small head, bald +over the top, and tufted at the back and about the ears. He had a very +thin, prominent, hooked nose, and a quantity of loose skin under his +chin and about the throat, which came craning up out of his neckcloth. +His eyes were very small, sharp, and glittering, and looked black as +jet. He had hardly enough of a mouth to make a smile with. His left hand +held the paper, and the long, skinny fingers of his right a pen just +dipped in ink. + +But the king, who for weeks had scarcely known what he did, was to-day +so much himself as to be aware that he was not quite himself; and the +moment he saw the paper, he resolved that he would not sign without +understanding and approving of it. He requested the lord chamberlain +therefore to read it. His lordship commenced at once but the +difficulties he seemed to encounter, and the fits of stammering that +seized him, roused the king's suspicion tenfold. He called the princess. + +"I trouble his lordship too much," he said to her: "you can read print +well, my child--let me hear how you can read writing. Take that paper +from his lordship's hand, and read it to me from beginning to end, while +my lord drinks a glass of my favourite wine, and watches for your +blunders." + +"Pardon me, your majesty," said the lord chamberlain, with as much of a +smile as he was able to extemporize, "but it were a thousand pities to +put the attainments of her royal highness to a test altogether too +severe. Your majesty can scarcely with justice expect the very organs of +her speech to prove capable of compassing words so long, and to her so +unintelligible." + +"I think much of my little princess and her capabilities," returned the +king, more and more aroused. "Pray, my lord, permit her to try." + +"Consider, your majesty: the thing would be altogether without +precedent. It would be to make sport of statecraft," said the lord +chamberlain. + +"Perhaps you are right, my lord," answered the king with more meaning +than he intended should be manifest while to his growing joy he felt new +life and power throbbing in heart and brain. "So this morning we shall +read no farther. I am indeed ill able for business of such weight." + +"Will your majesty please sign your royal name here?" said the lord +chamberlain, preferring the request as a matter of course, and +approaching with the feather end of the pen pointed to a spot where was +a great red seal. + +"Not to-day, my lord," replied the king. + +"It is of the greatest importance, your majesty," softly insisted the +other. + +"I descried no such importance in it," said the king. + +"Your majesty heard but a part." + +"And I can hear no more to-day." + +"I trust your majesty has ground enough, in a case of necessity like the +present, to sign upon the representation of his loyal subject and +chamberlain?--Or shall I call the lord chancellor?" he added, rising. + +"There is no need. I have the very highest opinion of your judgment, my +lord," answered the king; "--that is, with respect to means: we _might_ +differ as to ends." + +The lord chamberlain made yet further attempts at persuasion; but they +grew feebler and feebler, and he was at last compelled to retire without +having gained his object. And well might his annoyance be keen! For that +paper was the king's will, drawn up by the attorney-general; nor until +they had the king's signature to it was there much use in venturing +farther. But his worst sense of discomfiture arose from finding the king +with so much capacity left, for the doctor had pledged himself so to +weaken his brain that he should be as a child in their hands, incapable +of refusing anything requested of him: his lordship began to doubt the +doctor's fidelity to the conspiracy. + +The princess was in high delight. She had not for weeks heard so many +words, not to say words of such strength and reason, from her father's +lips: day by day he had been growing weaker and more lethargic. He was +so much exhausted however after this effort, that he asked for another +piece of bread and more wine, and fell fast asleep the moment he had +taken them. + +The lord chamberlain sent in a rage for Dr. Kelman. He came, and while +professing himself unable to understand the symptoms described by his +lordship, yet pledged himself again that on the morrow the king should +do whatever was required of him. + +The day went on. When his majesty was awake, the princess read to +him--one story-book after another; and whatever she read, the king +listened as if he had never heard anything so good before, making out in +it the wisest meanings. Every now and then he asked for a piece of bread +and a little wine, and every time he ate and drank he slept, and every +time he woke he seemed better than the last time. The princess bearing +her part, the loaf was eaten up and the flagon emptied before night. The +butler took the flagon away, and brought it back filled to the brim, but +both were thirsty as well as hungry when Curdie came again. + +Meantime he and Lina, watching and waking alternately, had plenty of +sleep. In the afternoon, peeping from the recess, they saw several of +the servants enter hurriedly, one after the other, draw wine, drink it, +and steal out; but their business was to take care of the king, not of +his cellar, and they let them drink. Also, when the butler came to fill +the flagon, they restrained themselves, for the villain's fate was not +yet ready for him. He looked terribly frightened, and had brought with +him a large candle and a small terrier--which latter indeed threatened +to be troublesome, for he went roving and sniffing about until he came +to the recess where they were. But as soon as he showed himself, Lina +opened her jaws so wide, and glared at him so horribly, that, without +even uttering a whimper, he tucked his tail between his legs and ran to +his master. He was drawing the wicked wine at the moment, and did not +see him, else he would doubtless have run too. + +When supper-time approached, Curdie took his place at the door into the +servants' hall; but after a long hour's vain watch, he began to fear he +should get nothing: there was so much idling about, as well as coming +and going. It was hard to bear--chiefly from the attractions of a +splendid loaf, just fresh out of the oven, which he longed to secure for +the king and princess. At length his chance did arrive: he pounced upon +the loaf and carried it away, and soon after got hold of a pie. + +This time, however, both loaf and pie were missed. The cook was called. +He declared he had provided both. One of themselves, he said, must have +carried them away for some friend outside the palace. Then a housemaid, +who had not long been one of them, said she had seen some one like a +page running in the direction of the cellar with something in his hands. +Instantly all turned upon the pages, accusing them, one after another. +All denied, but nobody believed one of them: where there is no truth +there can be no faith. + +To the cellar they all set out to look for the missing pie and loaf. +Lina heard them coming, as well she might, for they were talking and +quarrelling loud, and gave her master warning. They snatched up +everything, and got all signs of their presence out at the back door +before the servants entered. When they found nothing, they all turned on +the chambermaid, and accused her, not only of lying against the pages, +but of having taken the things herself. Their language and behaviour so +disgusted Curdie, who could hear a great part of what passed, and he saw +the danger of discovery now so much increased, that he began to devise +how best at once to rid the palace of the whole pack of them. That +however, would be small gain so long as the treacherous officers of +state continued in it. They must be first dealt with. A thought came to +him, and the longer he looked at it the better he liked it. + +As soon as the servants were gone, quarrelling and accusing all the way, +they returned and finished their supper. Then Curdie, who had long been +satisfied that Lina understood almost every word he said, communicated +his plan to her, and knew by the wagging of her tail and the flashing of +her eyes that she comprehended it. Until they had the king safe through +the worst part of the night, however, nothing could be done. + +They had now merely to go on waiting where they were till the household +should be asleep. This waiting and waiting was much the hardest thing +Curdie had to do in the whole affair. He took his mattock, and going +again into the long passage, lighted a candle-end, and proceeded to +examine the rock on all sides. But this was not merely to pass the +time: he had a reason for it. When he broke the stone in the street, +over which the baker fell, its appearance led him to pocket a fragment +for further examination; and since then he had satisfied himself that it +was the kind of stone in which gold is found, and that the yellow +particles in it were pure metal. If such stone existed here in any +plenty, he could soon make the king rich, and independent of his +ill-conditioned subjects. He was therefore now bent on an examination of +the rock; nor had he been at it long before he was persuaded that there +were large quantities of gold in the half-crystalline white stone, with +its veins of opaque white and of green, of which the rock, so far as he +had been able to inspect it, seemed almost entirely to consist. Every +piece he broke was spotted with particles and little lumps of a lovely +greenish yellow--and that was gold. Hitherto he had worked only in +silver, but he had read, and heard talk, and knew therefore about gold. +As soon as he had got the king free of rogues and villains, he would +have all the best and most honest miners, with his father at the head of +them, to work this rock for the king. + +It was a great delight to him to use his mattock once more. The time +went quickly, and when he left the passage to go to the king's chamber, +he had already a good heap of fragments behind the broken door. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +DR. KELMAN. + + +As soon as he had reason to hope the way was clear, Curdie ventured +softly into the hall, with Lina behind him. There was no one asleep on +the bench or floor, but by the fading fire sat a girl weeping. It was +the same who had seen him carrying off the food, and had been so hardly +used for saying so. She opened her eyes when he appeared, but did not +seem frightened at him. + +"I know why you weep," said Curdie; "and I am sorry for you." + +"It _is_ hard not to be believed just _because_ one speaks the truth," +said the girl, "but that seems reason enough with some people. My mother +taught me to speak the truth, and took such pains with me that I should +find it hard to tell a lie, though I could invent many a story these +servants would believe at once; for the truth is a strange thing here, +and they don't know it when they see it. Show it them, and they all +stare as if it were a wicked lie, and that with the lie yet warm that +has just left their own mouths!--You are a stranger," she said, and +burst out weeping afresh, "but the stranger you are to such a place and +such people the better!" + +"I am the person," said Curdie, "whom you saw carrying the things from +the supper-table." He showed her the loaf. "If you can trust, as well as +speak the truth, I will trust you.--Can you trust me?" + +She looked at him steadily for a moment. + +"I can," she answered. + +"One thing more," said Curdie: "have you courage as well as faith?" + +"I think so." + +"Look my dog in the face and don't cry out.--Come here, Lina." + +Lina obeyed. The girl looked at her, and laid her hand on her head. + +"Now I know you are a true woman," said Curdie. "--I am come to set +things right in this house. Not one of the servants knows I am here. +Will you tell them to-morrow morning, that, if they do not alter their +ways, and give over drinking, and lying, and stealing, and unkindness, +they shall every one of them be driven from the palace?" + +"They will not believe me." + +"Most likely; but will you give them the chance?" + +"I will." + +"Then I will be your friend. Wait here till I come again." + +She looked him once more in the face, and sat down. + +When he reached the royal chamber, he found his majesty awake, and very +anxiously expecting him. He received him with the utmost kindness, and +at once as it were put himself in his hands by telling him all he knew +concerning the state he was in. His voice was feeble, but his eye was +clear, and although now and then his words and thoughts seemed to +wander, Curdie could not be certain that the cause of their not being +intelligible to him did not lie in himself. The king told him that for +some years, ever since his queen's death, he had been losing heart over +the wickedness of his people. He had tried hard to make them good, but +they got worse and worse. Evil teachers, unknown to him, had crept into +the schools; there was a general decay of truth and right principle at +least in the city; and as that set the example to the nation, it must +spread. The main cause of his illness was the despondency with which the +degeneration of his people affected him. He could not sleep, and had +terrible dreams; while, to his unspeakable shame and distress, he +doubted almost everybody. He had striven against his suspicion, but in +vain, and his heart was sore, for his courtiers and councillors were +really kind; only he could not think why none of their ladies came near +his princess. The whole country was discontented, he heard, and there +were signs of gathering storm outside as well as inside his borders. The +master of the horse gave him sad news of the insubordination of the +army; and his great white horse was dead, they told him; and his sword +had lost its temper: it bent double the last time he tried it!--only +perhaps that was in a dream; and they could not find his shield; and one +of his spurs had lost the rowel. Thus the poor king went wandering in a +maze of sorrows, some of which were purely imaginary, while others were +truer than he understood. He told how thieves came at night and tried to +take his crown, so that he never dared let it out of his hands even when +he slept; and how, every night, an evil demon in the shape of his +physician came and poured poison down his throat. He knew it to be +poison, he said, somehow, although it tasted like wine. + +Here he stopped, faint with the unusual exertion of talking. Curdie +seized the flagon, and ran to the wine-cellar. + +In the servants' hall the girl still sat by the fire, waiting for him. +As he returned he told her to follow him, and left her at the chamber +door till he should rejoin her. + +[Illustration: _Curdie brings wine to the king._] + +When the king had had a little wine, he informed him that he had already +discovered certain of his majesty's enemies, and one of the worst of +them was the doctor, for it was no other demon than the doctor himself +who had been coming every night, and giving him a slow poison. + +"So!" said the king. "Then I have not been suspicious enough, for I +thought it was but a dream! Is it possible Kelman can be such a wretch? +Who then am I to trust?" + +"Not one in the house, except the princess and myself," said Curdie. + +"I will not go to sleep," said the king. + +"That would be as bad as taking the poison," said Curdie. "No, no, sire; +you must show your confidence by leaving all the watching to me, and +doing all the sleeping your majesty can." + +The king smiled a contented smile, turned on his side, and was presently +fast asleep. Then Curdie persuaded the princess also to go to sleep, and +telling Lina to watch, went to the housemaid. He asked her if she could +inform him which of the council slept in the palace, and show him their +rooms. She knew every one of them, she said, and took him the round of +all their doors, telling him which slept in each room. He then dismissed +her, and returning to the king's chamber, seated himself behind a +curtain at the head of the bed, on the side farthest from the king. He +told Lina to get under the bed, and make no noise. + +About one o'clock the doctor came stealing in. He looked round for the +princess, and seeing no one, smiled with satisfaction as he approached +the wine where it stood under the lamp. Having partly filled a glass, he +took from his pocket a small phial, and filled up the glass from it. The +light fell upon his face from above, and Curdie saw the snake in it +plainly visible. He had never beheld such an evil countenance: the man +hated the king, and delighted in doing him wrong. + +With the glass in his hand, he drew near the bed, set it down, and began +his usual rude rousing of his majesty. Not at once succeeding, he took a +lancet from his pocket, and was parting its cover with an involuntary +hiss of hate between his closed teeth, when Curdie stooped and whispered +to Lina, "Take him by the leg, Lina." She darted noiselessly upon him. +With a face of horrible consternation, he gave his leg one tug to free +it; the next instant Curdie heard the one scrunch with which she crushed +the bone like a stick of celery. He tumbled on the floor with a yell. + +"Drag him out, Lina," said Curdie. + +Lina took him by the collar, and dragged him out. Her master followed to +direct her, and they left him lying across the lord chamberlain's +door, where he gave another horrible yell, and fainted. + +[Illustration: "_Lina darted noiselessly upon him._"] + +The king had waked at his first cry, and by the time Curdie re-entered +he had got at his sword where it hung from the centre of the tester, had +drawn it, and was trying to get out of bed. But when Curdie told him all +was well, he lay down again as quietly as a child comforted by his +mother from a troubled dream. Curdie went to the door to watch. + +The doctor's yells had roused many, but not one had yet ventured to +appear. Bells were rung violently, but none were answered; and in a +minute or two Curdie had what he was watching for. The door of the lord +chamberlain's room opened, and, pale with hideous terror, his lordship +peeped out. Seeing no one, he advanced to step into the corridor, and +tumbled over the doctor. Curdie ran up, and held out his hand. He +received in it the claw of a bird of prey--vulture or eagle, he could +not tell which. + +His lordship, as soon as he was on his legs, taking him for one of the +pages, abused him heartily for not coming sooner, and threatened him +with dismissal from the king's service for cowardice and neglect. He +began indeed what bade fair to be a sermon on the duties of a page, but +catching sight of the man who lay at his door, and seeing it was the +doctor, he fell out upon Curdie afresh for standing there doing +nothing, and ordered him to fetch immediate assistance. Curdie left him, +but slipped into the king's chamber, closed and locked the door, and +left the rascals to look after each other. Ere long he heard hurrying +footsteps, and for a few minutes there was a great muffled tumult of +scuffling feet, low voices, and deep groanings; then all was still +again. + +Irene slept through the whole--so confidently did she rest, knowing +Curdie was in her father's room watching over him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE PROPHECY. + + +Curdie sat and watched every motion of the sleeping king. All the night, +to his ear, the palace lay as quiet as a nursery of healthful children. +At sunrise he called the princess. + +"How has his Majesty slept?" were her first words as she entered the +room. + +"Quite quietly," answered Curdie; "that is, since the doctor was got rid +of." + +"How did you manage that?" inquired Irene; and Curdie had to tell all +about it. + +"How terrible!" she said. "Did it not startle the king dreadfully?" + +"It did rather. I found him getting out of bed, sword in hand." + +"The brave old man!" cried the princess. + +"Not so old!" said Curdie, "--as you will soon see. He went off again +in a minute or so; but for a little while he was restless, and once when +he lifted his hand it came down on the spikes of his crown, and he half +waked." + +"But where _is_ the crown?" cried Irene, in sudden terror. + +"I stroked his hands," answered Curdie, "and took the crown from them; +and ever since he has slept quietly, and again and again smiled in his +sleep." + +"I have never seen him do that," said the princess. "But what have you +done with the crown, Curdie?" + +"Look," said Curdie, moving away from the bedside. + +Irene followed him--and there, in the middle of the floor, she saw a +strange sight. Lina lay at full length, fast asleep, her tail stretched +out straight behind her and her fore-legs before her: between the two +paws meeting in front of it, her nose just touching it behind, glowed +and flashed the crown, like a nest for the humming-birds of heaven. + +Irene gazed, and looked up with a smile. + +"But what if the thief were to come, and she not to wake?" she said. +"Shall I try her?" And as she spoke she stooped towards the crown. + +"No, no, no!" cried Curdie, terrified. "She would frighten you out of +your wits. I would do it to show you, but she would wake your father. +You have no conception with what a roar she would spring at my throat. +But you shall see how lightly she wakes the moment I speak to +her.--Lina!" + +She was on her feet the same instant, with her great tail sticking out +straight behind her, just as it had been lying. + +"Good dog!" said the princess, and patted her head. Lina wagged her tail +solemnly, like the boom of an anchored sloop. Irene took the crown, and +laid it where the king would see it when he woke. + +"Now, princess," said Curdie, "I must leave you for a few minutes. You +must bolt the door, please, and not open it to any one." + +Away to the cellar he went with Lina, taking care, as they passed +through the servants' hall, to get her a good breakfast. In about one +minute she had eaten what he gave her, and looked up in his face: it was +not more she wanted, but work. So out of the cellar they went through +the passage, and Curdie into the dungeon, where he pulled up Lina, +opened the door, let her out, and shut it again behind her. As he +reached the door of the king's chamber, Lina was flying out of the gate +of Gwyntystorm as fast as her mighty legs could carry her. + + * * * * * + +"What's come to the wench?" growled the men-servants one to another, +when the chambermaid appeared among them the next morning. There was +something in her face which they could not understand, and did not +like. + +"Are we all dirt?" they said. "What are you thinking about? Have you +seen yourself in the glass this morning, miss?" + +She made no answer. + +"Do you want to be treated as you deserve, or will you speak, you +hussy?" said the first woman-cook. "I would fain know what right _you_ +have to put on a face like that!" + +"You won't believe me," said the girl. + +"Of course not. What is it?" + +"I must tell you, whether you believe me or not," she said. + +"Of course you must." + +"It is this, then: if you do not repent of your bad ways, you are all +going to be punished--all turned out of the palace together." + +"A mighty punishment!" said the butler. "A good riddance, say I, of the +trouble of keeping minxes like you in order! And why, pray, should we be +turned out? What have I to repent of now, your holiness?" + +"That you know best yourself," said the girl. + +"A pretty piece of insolence! How should _I_ know, forsooth, what a +menial like you has got against me! There _are_ people in this +house--oh! I'm not blind to their ways! but every one for himself, say +I!--Pray, Miss Judgment, who gave you such an impertinent message to his +majesty's household?" + +"One who is come to set things right in the king's house." + +"Right, indeed!" cried the butler; but that moment the thought came back +to him of the roar he had heard in the cellar, and he turned pale and +was silent. + +The steward took it up next. + +"And pray, pretty prophetess," he said, attempting to chuck her under +the chin, "what have _I_ got to repent of?" + +"That you know best yourself," said the girl. "You have but to look into +your books or your heart." + +"Can you tell _me_, then, what I have to repent of?" said the groom of +the chambers. + +"That you know best yourself," said the girl once more. "The person who +told me to tell you said the servants of this house had to repent of +thieving, and lying, and unkindness, and drinking; and they will be made +to repent of them one way, if they don't do it of themselves another." + +Then arose a great hubbub; for by this time all the servants in the +house were gathered about her, and all talked together, in towering +indignation. + +"Thieving, indeed!" cried one. "A pretty word in a house where +everything is left lying about in a shameless way, tempting poor +innocent girls!--a house where nobody cares for anything, or has the +least respect to the value of property!" + +"I suppose you envy me this brooch of mine," said another. "There was +just a half-sheet of note-paper about it, not a scrap more, in a drawer +that's always open in the writing-table in the study! What sort of a +place is that for a jewel? Can you call it stealing to take a thing from +such a place as that? Nobody cared a straw about it. It might as well +have been in the dust-hole! If it had been locked up--then, to be sure!" + +"Drinking!" said the chief porter, with a husky laugh. "And who wouldn't +drink when he had a chance? Or who would repent it, except that the +drink was gone? Tell me that, Miss Innocence." + +"Lying!" said a great, coarse footman. "I suppose you mean when I told +you yesterday you were a pretty girl when you didn't pout? Lying, +indeed! Tell us something worth repenting of! Lying is the way of +Gwyntystorm. You should have heard Jabez lying to the cook last night! +He wanted a sweetbread for his pup, and pretended it was for the +princess! Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Unkindness! I wonder who's unkind! Going and listening to any stranger +against her fellow-servants, and then bringing back his wicked words to +trouble them!" said the oldest and worst of the housemaids. "--One of +ourselves, too!--Come, you hypocrite! this is all an invention of yours +and your young man's, to take your revenge of us because we found you +out in a lie last night. Tell true now:--wasn't it the same that stole +the loaf and the pie that sent you with the impudent message?" + +As she said this, she stepped up to the housemaid and gave her, instead +of time to answer, a box on the ear that almost threw her down; and +whoever could get at her began to push and hustle and pinch and punch +her. + +"You invite your fate," she said quietly. + +They fell furiously upon her, drove her from the hall with kicks and +blows, hustled her along the passage, and threw her down the stair to +the wine-cellar, then locked the door at the top of it, and went back to +their breakfast. + +In the meantime the king and the princess had had their bread and wine, +and the princess, with Curdie's help, had made the room as tidy as she +could--they were terribly neglected by the servants. And now Curdie set +himself to interest and amuse the king, and prevent him from thinking +too much, in order that he might the sooner think the better. Presently, +at his majesty's request, he began from the beginning, and told +everything he could recall of his life, about his father and mother and +their cottage on the mountain, of the inside of the mountain and the +work there, about the goblins and his adventures with them. When he came +to finding the princess and her nurse overtaken by the twilight on the +mountain, Irene took up her share of the tale, and told all about +herself to that point, and then Curdie took it up again; and so they +went on, each fitting in the part that the other did not know, thus +keeping the hoop of the story running straight; and the king listened +with wondering and delighted ears, astonished to find what he could so +ill comprehend, yet fitting so well together from the lips of two +narrators. At last, with the mission given him by the wonderful princess +and his consequent adventures, Curdie brought up the whole tale to the +present moment. Then a silence fell, and Irene and Curdie thought the +king was asleep. But he was far from it; he was thinking about many +things. After a long pause he said:-- + +"Now at last, my children, I am compelled to believe many things I could +not and do not yet understand--things I used to hear, and sometimes see, +as often as I visited my mother's home. Once, for instance, I heard my +mother say to her father--speaking of me--'He is a good, honest boy, but +he will be an old man before he understands;' and my grandfather +answered, 'Keep up your heart, child: my mother will look after him.' I +thought often of their words, and the many strange things besides I both +heard and saw in that house; but by degrees, because I could not +understand them, I gave up thinking of them. And indeed I had almost +forgotten them, when you, my child, talking that day about the Queen +Irene and her pigeons, and what you had seen in her garret, brought them +all back to my mind in a vague mass. But now they keep coming back to +me, one by one, every one for itself; and I shall just hold my peace, +and lie here quite still, and think about them all till I get well +again." + +What he meant they could not quite understand, but they saw plainly that +already he was better. + +"Put away my crown," he said. "I am tired of seeing it, and have no more +any fear of its safety." + +They put it away together, withdrew from the bedside, and left him in +peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE AVENGERS. + + +There was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr. Kelman, but it made Curdie +anxious, as the evening drew near, to think that not a soul belonging to +the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he did, that day. He +feared, in some shape or other, a more determined assault. He had +provided himself a place in the room, to which he might retreat upon +approach, and whence he could watch; but not once had he had to betake +himself to it. + +Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more +uneasily of the moment when he must again leave them for a little while. +Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light the lamp. The +princess drew her chair close to Curdie: she would rather it were not so +dark, she said. She was afraid of something--she could not tell what; +nor could she give any reason for her fear but that all was so +dreadfully still. When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought +Lina might be returned; and reflected that the sooner he went the less +danger was there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk +of his own presence being discovered, no doubt, but things were now +drawing to a crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess to +lock all the doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took his +mattock, and with here a run, and there a halt under cover, gained the +door at the head of the cellar-stair in safety. To his surprise he found +it locked, and the key was gone. There was no time for deliberation. He +felt where the lock was, and dealt it a tremendous blow with his +mattock. It needed but a second to dash the door open. Some one laid a +hand on his arm. + +"Who is it?" said Curdie. + +"I told you they wouldn't believe me, sir," said the housemaid. "I have +been here all day." + +He took her hand, and said, "You are a good, brave girl. Now come with +me, lest your enemies imprison you again." + +He took her to the cellar, locked the door, lighted a bit of candle, +gave her a little wine, told her to wait there till he came, and went +out the back way. + +Swiftly he swung himself up into the dungeon. Lina had done her part. +The place was swarming with creatures--animal forms wilder and more +grotesque than ever ramped in nightmare dream. Close by the hole, +waiting his coming, her green eyes piercing the gulf below, Lina had but +just laid herself down when he appeared. All about the vault and up the +slope of the rubbish-heap lay and stood and squatted the forty-nine +whose friendship Lina had conquered in the wood. They all came crowding +about Curdie. + +He must get them into the cellar as quickly as ever he could. But when +he looked at the size of some of them, he feared it would be a long +business to enlarge the hole sufficiently to let them through. At it he +rushed, hitting vigorously at its edge with his mattock. At the very +first blow came a splash from the water beneath, but ere he could heave +a third, a creature like a tapir, only that the grasping point of its +proboscis was hard as the steel of Curdie's hammer, pushed him gently +aside, making room for another creature, with a head like a great club, +which it began banging upon the floor with terrible force and noise. +After about a minute of this battery, the tapir came up again, shoved +Clubhead aside, and putting its own head into the hole began gnawing at +the sides of it with the finger of its nose, in such a fashion that the +fragments fell in a continuous gravelly shower into the water. In a few +minutes the opening was large enough for the biggest creature amongst +them to get through it. + +Next came the difficulty of letting them down: some were quite light, +but the half of them were too heavy for the rope, not to say for his +arms. The creatures themselves seemed to be puzzling where or how they +were to go. One after another of them came up, looked down through the +hole, and drew back. Curdie thought if he let Lina down, perhaps that +would suggest something; possibly they did not see the opening on the +other side. He did so, and Lina stood lighting up the entrance of the +passage with her gleaming eyes. One by one the creatures looked down +again, and one by one they drew back, each standing aside to glance at +the next, as if to say, _Now you have a look_. At last it came to the +turn of the serpent with the long body, the four short legs behind, and +the little wings before. No sooner had he poked his head through than he +poked it farther through--and farther, and farther yet, until there was +little more than his legs left in the dungeon. By that time he had got +his head and neck well into the passage beside Lina. Then his legs gave +a great waddle and spring, and he tumbled himself, far as there was +betwixt them, heels over head into the passage. + +"That is all very well for you, Mr. Legserpent!" thought Curdie to +himself; "but what is to be done with the rest?" + +He had hardly time to think it however, before the creature's head +appeared again through the floor. He caught hold of the bar of iron to +which Curdie's rope was tied, and settling it securely across the +narrowest part of the irregular opening, held fast to it with his teeth. +It was plain to Curdie, from the universal hardness amongst them, that +they must all, at one time or another, have been creatures of the mines. + +He saw at once what this one was after. He had planted his feet firmly +upon the floor of the passage, and stretched his long body up and across +the chasm to serve as a bridge for the rest. He mounted instantly upon +his neck, threw his arms round him as far as they would go, and slid +down in ease and safety, the bridge just bending a little as his weight +glided over it. But he thought some of the creatures would try his +teeth. + +One by one the oddities followed, and slid down in safety. When they +seemed to be all landed, he counted them: there were but forty-eight. Up +the rope again he went, and found one which had been afraid to trust +himself to the bridge, and no wonder! for he had neither legs nor head +nor arms nor tail: he was just a round thing, about a foot in diameter, +with a nose and mouth and eyes on one side of the ball. He had made his +journey by rolling as swiftly as the fleetest of them could run. The +back of the legserpent not being flat, he could not quite trust himself +to roll straight and not drop into the gulf. Curdie took him in his +arms, and the moment he looked down through the hole, the bridge made +itself again, and he slid into the passage in safety, with Ballbody in +his bosom. + +He ran first to the cellar, to warn the girl not to be frightened at the +avengers of wickedness. Then he called to Lina to bring in her friends. + +One after another they came trooping in, till the cellar seemed full of +them. The housemaid regarded them without fear. + +"Sir," she said, "there is one of the pages I don't take to be a bad +fellow." + +"Then keep him near you," said Curdie. "And now can you show me a way to +the king's chamber not through the servants' hall?" + +"There is a way through the chamber of the colonel of the guard," she +answered, "but he is ill, and in bed." + +"Take me that way," said Curdie. + +By many ups and downs and windings and turnings she brought him to a +dimly-lighted room, where lay an elderly man asleep. His arm was outside +the coverlid, and Curdie gave his hand a hurried grasp as he went by. +His heart beat for joy, for he had found a good, honest human hand. + +"I suppose that is why he is ill," he said to himself. + +It was now close upon supper-time, and when the girl stopped at the door +of the king's chamber, he told her to go and give the servants one +warning more. + +"Say the messenger sent you," he said. "I will be with you very soon." + +The king was still asleep. Curdie talked to the princess for a few +minutes, told her not to be frightened whatever noises she heard, only +to keep her door locked till he came, and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE VENGEANCE. + + +By the time the girl reached the servants' hall they were seated at +supper. A loud, confused exclamation arose when she entered. No one made +room for her; all stared with unfriendly eyes. A page, who entered the +next minute by another door, came to her side. + +"Where do _you_ come from, hussy?" shouted the butler, and knocked his +fist on the table with a loud clang. + +He had gone to fetch wine, had found the stair door broken open and the +cellar-door locked, and had turned and fled. Amongst his fellows, +however, he had now regained what courage could be called his. + +"From the cellar," she replied. "The messenger broke open the door, and +sent me to you again." + +"The messenger! Pooh! What messenger?" + +"The same who sent me before to tell you to repent." + +"What! will you go fooling it still? Haven't you had enough of it?" +cried the butler in a rage, and starting to his feet, drew near +threateningly. + +"I must do as I am told," said the girl. + +"Then why _don't_ you do as _I_ tell you, and hold your tongue?" said +the butler. "Who wants your preachments? If anybody here has anything to +repent of, isn't that enough--and more than enough for him--but you must +come bothering about, and stirring up, till not a drop of quiet will +settle inside him? You come along with me, young woman; we'll see if we +can't find a lock somewhere in the house that'll hold you in!" + +"Hands off, Mr. Butler!" said the page, and stepped between. + +"Oh, ho!" cried the butler, and pointed his fat finger at him. "That's +you, is it, my fine fellow? So it's you that's up to her tricks, is it?" + +The youth did not answer, only stood with flashing eyes fixed on him, +until, growing angrier and angrier, but not daring a step nearer, he +burst out with rude but quavering authority,-- + +"Leave the house, both of you! Be off, or I'll have Mr. Steward to talk +to you. Threaten your masters, indeed! Out of the house with you, and +show us the way you tell us of!" + +Two or three of the footmen got up and ranged themselves behind the +butler. + +"Don't say _I_ threaten you, Mr. Butler," expostulated the girl from +behind the page. "The messenger said I was to tell you again, and give +you one chance more." + +"Did the _messenger_ mention me in particular?" asked the butler, +looking the page unsteadily in the face. + +"No, sir," answered the girl. + +"I thought not! I should like to hear him!" + +"Then hear him now," said Curdie, who that moment entered at the +opposite corner of the hall. "I speak of the butler in particular when I +say that I know more evil of him than of any of the rest. He will not +let either his own conscience or my messenger speak to him: I therefore +now speak myself. I proclaim him a villain, and a traitor to his majesty +the king.--But what better is any one of you who cares only for himself, +eats, drinks, takes good money, and gives vile service in return, +stealing and wasting the king's property, and making of the palace, +which ought to be an example of order and sobriety, a disgrace to the +country?" + +For a moment all stood astonished into silence by this bold speech +from a stranger. True, they saw by his mattock over his shoulder +that he was nothing but a miner boy, yet for a moment the truth told +notwithstanding. Then a great roaring laugh burst from the biggest of +the footmen as he came shouldering his way through the crowd towards +Curdie. + +"Yes, I'm right," he cried; "I thought as much! This _messenger_, +forsooth, is nothing but a gallows-bird--a fellow the city marshal was +going to hang, but unfortunately put it off till he should be starved +enough to save rope and be throttled with a pack-thread. He broke +prison, and here he is preaching!" + +As he spoke, he stretched out his great hand to lay hold of him. Curdie +caught it in his left hand, and heaved his mattock with the other. +Finding, however, nothing worse than an ox-hoof, he restrained himself, +stepped back a pace or two, shifted his mattock to his left hand, and +struck him a little smart blow on the shoulder. His arm dropped by his +side, he gave a roar, and drew back. + +His fellows came crowding upon Curdie. Some called to the dogs; others +swore; the women screamed; the footmen and pages got round him in a +half-circle, which he kept from closing by swinging his mattock, and +here and there threatening a blow. + +"Whoever confesses to having done anything wrong in this house, however +small, however great, and means to do better, let him come to this +corner of the room," he cried. + +None moved but the page, who went towards him skirting the wall. When +they caught sight of him, the crowd broke into a hiss of derision. + +"There! see! Look at the sinner! He confesses! actually confesses! Come, +what is it you stole? The barefaced hypocrite! There's your sort to set +up for reproving other people! Where's the other now?" + +But the maid had left the room, and they let the page pass, for he +looked dangerous to stop. Curdie had just put him betwixt him and the +wall, behind the door, when in rushed the butler with the huge kitchen +poker, the point of which he had blown red-hot in the fire, followed by +the cook with his longest spit. Through the crowd, which scattered right +and left before them, they came down upon Curdie. Uttering a shrill +whistle, he caught the poker a blow with his mattock, knocking the point +to the ground, while the page behind him started forward, and seizing +the point of the spit, held on to it with both hands, the cook kicking +him furiously. + +Ere the butler could raise the poker again, or the cook recover the +spit, with a roar to terrify the dead, Lina dashed into the room, her +eyes flaming like candles. She went straight at the butler. He was down +in a moment, and she on the top of him, wagging her tail over him like a +lioness. + +"Don't kill him, Lina," said Curdie. + +"Oh, Mr. Miner!" cried the butler. + +"Put your foot on his mouth, Lina," said Curdie. "The truth Fear tells +is not much better than her lies." + +The rest of the creatures now came stalking, rolling, leaping, gliding, +hobbling into the room, and each as he came took the next place along +the wall, until, solemn and grotesque, all stood ranged, awaiting +orders. + +And now some of the culprits were stealing to the doors nearest them. +Curdie whispered the two creatures next him. Off went Ballbody, rolling +and bounding through the crowd like a spent cannon shot, and when the +foremost reached the door to the corridor, there he lay at the foot of +it grinning; to the other door scuttled a scorpion, as big as a huge +crab. The rest stood so still that some began to think they were only +boys dressed up to look awful; they persuaded themselves they were only +another part of the housemaid and page's vengeful contrivance, and their +evil spirits began to rise again. Meantime Curdie had, with a second +sharp blow from the hammer of his mattock, disabled the cook, so that he +yielded the spit with a groan. He now turned to the avengers. + +"Go at them," he said. + +The whole nine-and-forty obeyed at once, each for himself, and after his +own fashion. A scene of confusion and terror followed. The crowd +scattered like a dance of flies. The creatures had been instructed not +to hurt much, but to hunt incessantly, until every one had rushed +from the house. The women shrieked, and ran hither and thither through +the hall, pursued each by her own horror, and snapped at by every other +in passing. If one threw herself down in hysterical despair, she was +instantly poked or clawed or nibbled up again. Though they were quite as +frightened at first, the men did not run so fast; and by-and-by some of +them, finding they were only glared at, and followed, and pushed, began +to summon up courage once more, and with courage came impudence. The +tapir had the big footman in charge: the fellow stood stock-still, and +let the beast come up to him, then put out his finger and playfully +patted his nose. The tapir gave the nose a little twist, and the finger +lay on the floor. Then indeed the footman ran, and did more than run, +but nobody heeded his cries. Gradually the avengers grew more severe, +and the terrors of the imagination were fast yielding to those of +sensuous experience, when a page, perceiving one of the doors no longer +guarded, sprang at it, and ran out. Another and another followed. Not a +beast went after, until, one by one, they were every one gone from the +hall, and the whole menie in the kitchen. There they were beginning to +congratulate themselves that all was over, when in came the creatures +trooping after them, and the second act of their terror and pain began. +They were flung about in all directions; their clothes were torn from +them; they were pinched and scratched any and everywhere; Ballbody kept +rolling up them and over them, confining his attentions to no one in +particular; the scorpion kept grabbing at their legs with his huge +pincers; a three-foot centipede kept screwing up their bodies, nipping +as he went; varied as numerous were their woes. Nor was it long before +the last of them had fled from the kitchen to the sculleries. But +thither also they were followed, and there again they were hunted about. +They were bespattered with the dirt of their own neglect; they were +soused in the stinking water that had boiled greens; they were smeared +with rancid dripping; their faces were rubbed in maggots: I dare not +tell all that was done to them. At last they got the door into a +back-yard open, and rushed out. Then first they knew that the wind was +howling and the rain falling in sheets. But there was no rest for them +even there. Thither also were they followed by the inexorable avengers, +and the only door here was a door out of the palace: out every soul of +them was driven, and left, some standing, some lying, some crawling, to +the farther buffeting of the waterspouts and whirlwinds ranging every +street of the city. The door was flung to behind them, and they heard it +locked and bolted and barred against them. + +[Illustration: "_A scene of confusion and terror followed: the crowd +scattered like a dance of flies._"] + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MORE VENGEANCE. + + +As soon as they were gone, Curdie brought the creatures back to the +servants' hall, and told them to eat up everything on the table. It +_was_ a sight to see them all standing round it--except such as had to +get upon it--eating and drinking, each after its fashion, without a +smile, or a word, or a glance of fellowship in the act. A very few +moments served to make everything eatable vanish, and then Curdie +requested them to clean the house, and the page who stood by to assist +them. + +Every one set about it except Ballbody: he could do nothing at cleaning, +for the more he rolled, the more he spread the dirt. Curdie was curious +to know what he had been, and how he had come to be such as he was; but +he could only conjecture that he was a gluttonous alderman whom nature +had treated homeopathically. + +And now there was such a cleaning and clearing out of neglected places, +such a burying and burning of refuse, such a rinsing of jugs, such a +swilling of sinks, and such a flushing of drains, as would have +delighted the eyes of all true housekeepers and lovers of cleanliness +generally. + +Curdie meantime was with the king, telling him all he had done. They had +heard a little noise, but not much, for he had told the avengers to +repress outcry as much as possible; and they had seen to it that the +more any one cried out the more he had to cry out upon, while the +patient ones they scarcely hurt at all. + +Having promised his majesty and her royal highness a good breakfast, +Curdie now went to finish the business. The courtiers must be dealt +with. A few who were the worst, and the leaders of the rest, must be +made examples of; the others should be driven from their beds to the +street. + +He found the chiefs of the conspiracy holding a final consultation in +the smaller room off the hall. These were the lord chamberlain, the +attorney-general, the master of the horse, and the king's private +secretary: the lord chancellor and the rest, as foolish as faithless, +were but the tools of these. + +The housemaid had shown him a little closet, opening from a passage +behind, where he could overhear all that passed in that room; and now +Curdie heard enough to understand that they had determined, in the dead +of that night, rather in the deepest dark before the morning, to bring a +certain company of soldiers into the palace, make away with the king, +secure the princess, announce the sudden death of his majesty, read as +his the will they had drawn up, and proceed to govern the country at +their ease, and with results: they would at once levy severer taxes, and +pick a quarrel with the most powerful of their neighbours. Everything +settled, they agreed to retire, and have a few hours' quiet sleep +first--all but the secretary, who was to sit up and call them at the +proper moment. Curdie stole away, allowed them half an hour to get to +bed, and then set about completing his purgation of the palace. + +First he called Lina, and opened the door of the room where the +secretary sat. She crept in, and laid herself down against it. When the +secretary, rising to stretch his legs, caught sight of her eyes, he +stood frozen with terror. She made neither motion nor sound. Gathering +courage, and taking the thing for a spectral illusion, he made a step +forward. She showed her other teeth, with a growl neither more than +audible nor less than horrible. The secretary sank fainting into a +chair. He was not a brave man, and besides, his conscience had gone over +to the enemy, and was sitting against the door by Lina. + +To the lord chamberlain's door next, Curdie conducted the legserpent, +and let him in. + +Now his lordship had had a bedstead made for himself, sweetly fashioned +of rods of silver gilt: upon it the legserpent found him asleep, and +under it he crept. But out he came on the other side, and crept over it +next, and again under it, and so over it, under it, over it, five or six +times, every time leaving a coil of himself behind him, until he had +softly folded all his length about the lord chamberlain and his bed. +This done, he set up his head, looking down with curved neck right over +his lordship's, and began to hiss in his face. He woke in terror +unspeakable, and would have started up; but the moment he moved, the +legserpent drew his coils closer, and closer still, and drew and drew +until the quaking traitor heard the joints of his bedstead grinding and +gnarring. Presently he persuaded himself that it was only a horrid +nightmare, and began to struggle with all his strength to throw it off. +Thereupon the legserpent gave his hooked nose such a bite, that his +teeth met through it--but it was hardly thicker than the bowl of a +spoon; and then the vulture knew that he was in the grasp of his enemy +the snake, and yielded. As soon as he was quiet the legserpent began to +untwist and retwist, to uncoil and recoil himself, swinging and swaying, +knotting and relaxing himself with strangest curves and convolutions, +always, however, leaving at least one coil around his victim. At last he +undid himself entirely, and crept from the bed. Then first the lord +chamberlain discovered that his tormentor had bent and twisted the +bedstead, legs and canopy and all, so about him, that he was shut in a +silver cage out of which it was impossible for him to find a way. Once +more, thinking his enemy was gone, he began to shout for help. But the +instant he opened his mouth his keeper darted at him and bit him, and +after three or four such essays, with like result, he lay still. + +The master of the horse Curdie gave in charge to the tapir. When the +soldier saw him enter--for he was not yet asleep--he sprang from his +bed, and flew at him with his sword. But the creature's hide was +invulnerable to his blows, and he pecked at his legs with his proboscis +until he jumped into bed again, groaning, and covered himself up; after +which the tapir contented himself with now and then paying a visit to +his toes. + +For the attorney-general, Curdie led to his door a huge spider, about +two feet long in the body, which, having made an excellent supper, was +full of webbing. The attorney-general had not gone to bed, but sat in a +chair asleep before a great mirror. He had been trying the effect of a +diamond star which he had that morning taken from the jewel-room. When +he woke he fancied himself paralysed; every limb, every finger even, was +motionless: coils and coils of broad spider-ribbon bandaged his members +to his body, and all to the chair. In the glass he saw himself wound +about, under and over and around, with slavery infinite. On a footstool +a yard off sat the spider glaring at him. + +Clubhead had mounted guard over the butler, where he lay tied hand and +foot under the third cask. From that cask he had seen the wine run into +a great bath, and therein he expected to be drowned. The doctor, with +his crushed leg, needed no one to guard him. + +And now Curdie proceeded to the expulsion of the rest. Great men or +underlings, he treated them all alike. From room to room over the house +he went, and sleeping or waking took the man by the hand. Such was the +state to which a year of wicked rule had reduced the moral condition of +the court, that in it all he found but three with human hands. The +possessors of these he allowed to dress themselves and depart in peace. +When they perceived his mission, and how he was backed, they yielded +without dispute. + +Then commenced a general hunt, to clear the house of the vermin. Out of +their beds in their night-clothing, out of their rooms, gorgeous +chambers or garret nooks, the creatures hunted them. Not one was allowed +to escape. Tumult and noise there was little, for the fear was too +deadly for outcry. Ferreting them out everywhere, following them +upstairs and downstairs, yielding no instant of repose except upon the +way out, the avengers persecuted the miscreants, until the last of them +was shivering outside the palace gates, with hardly sense enough left to +know where to turn. + +When they set out to look for shelter, they found every inn full of the +servants expelled before them, and not one would yield his place to a +superior suddenly levelled with himself. Most houses refused to admit +them on the ground of the wickedness that must have drawn on them such a +punishment; and not a few would have been left in the streets all night, +had not Derba, roused by the vain entreaties at the doors on each side +of her cottage, opened hers, and given up everything to them. The lord +chancellor was only too glad to share a mattress with a stable-boy, and +steal his bare feet under his jacket. + +In the morning Curdie appeared, and the outcasts were in terror, +thinking he had come after them again. But he took no notice of them: +his object was to request Derba to go to the palace: the king required +her services. She needed take no trouble about her cottage, he said; the +palace was henceforward her home: she was the king's chastelaine over +men and maidens of his household. And this very morning she must cook +his majesty a nice breakfast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE PREACHER. + + +Various reports went undulating through the city as to the nature of +what had taken place in the palace. The people gathered, and stared at +the house, eyeing it as if it had sprung up in the night. But it looked +sedate enough, remaining closed and silent, like a house that was dead. +They saw no one come out or go in. Smoke rose from a chimney or two; +there was hardly another sign of life. It was not for some little time +generally understood that the highest officers of the crown as well as +the lowest menials of the palace had been dismissed in disgrace: for who +was to recognise a lord chancellor in his night-shirt? and what lord +chancellor would, so attired in the street, proclaim his rank and office +aloud? Before it was day most of the courtiers crept down to the river, +hired boats, and betook themselves to their homes or their friends in +the country. It was assumed in the city that the domestics had been +discharged upon a sudden discovery of general and unpardonable +peculation; for, almost everybody being guilty of it himself, petty +dishonesty was the crime most easily credited and least easily passed +over in Gwyntystorm. + +Now that same day was Religion day, and not a few of the clergy, always +glad to seize on any passing event to give interest to the dull and +monotonic grind of their intellectual machines, made this remarkable one +the ground of discourse to their congregations. More especially than the +rest, the first priest of the great temple where was the royal pew, +judged himself, from his relation to the palace, called upon to "improve +the occasion,"--for they talked ever about improvement at Gwyntystorm, +all the time they were going downhill with a rush. + +The book which had, of late years, come to be considered the most +sacred, was called The Book of Nations, and consisted of proverbs, and +history traced through custom: from it the first priest chose his text; +and his text was, _Honesty is the best Policy_. He was considered a very +eloquent man, but I can offer only a few of the larger bones of his +sermon. The main proof of the verity of their religion, he said, was, +that things always went well with those who professed it; and its first +fundamental principle, grounded in inborn invariable instinct, was, +that every One should take care of that One. This was the first duty of +Man. If every one would but obey this law, number one, then would every +one be perfectly cared for--one being always equal to one. But the +faculty of care was in excess of need, and all that overflowed, and +would otherwise run to waste, ought to be gently turned in the direction +of one's neighbour, seeing that this also wrought for the fulfilling of +the law, inasmuch as the reaction of excess so directed was upon the +director of the same, to the comfort, that is, and well-being of the +original self. To be just and friendly was to build the warmest and +safest of all nests, and to be kind and loving was to line it with the +softest of all furs and feathers, for the one precious, comfort-loving +self there to lie, revelling in downiest bliss. One of the laws +therefore most binding upon men because of its relation to the first and +greatest of all duties, was embodied in the Proverb he had just read; +and what stronger proof of its wisdom and truth could they desire than +the sudden and complete vengeance which had fallen upon those worse than +ordinary sinners who had offended against the king's majesty by +forgetting that _Honesty is the best Policy_? + +At this point of the discourse the head of the legserpent rose from the +floor of the temple, towering above the pulpit, above the priest, then +curving downwards, with open mouth slowly descended upon him. Horror +froze the sermon-pump. He stared upwards aghast. The great teeth of the +animal closed upon a mouthful of the sacred vestments, and slowly he +lifted the preacher from the pulpit, like a handful of linen from a +wash-tub, and, on his four solemn stumps, bore him out of the temple, +dangling aloft from his jaws. At the back of it he dropped him into the +dust-hole amongst the remnants of a library whose age had destroyed its +value in the eyes of the chapter. They found him burrowing in it, a +lunatic henceforth--whose madness presented the peculiar feature, that +in its paroxysms he jabbered sense. + +Bone-freezing horror pervaded Gwyntystorm. If their best and wisest were +treated with such contempt, what might not the rest of them look for? +Alas for their city! their grandly respectable city! their loftily +reasonable city! Where it was all to end, the Convenient alone could +tell! + +But something must be done. Hastily assembling, the priests chose a new +first priest, and in full conclave unanimously declared and accepted, +that the king in his retirement had, through the practice of the +blackest magic, turned the palace into a nest of demons in the midst of +them. A grand exorcism was therefore indispensable. + +In the meantime the fact came out that the greater part of the courtiers +had been dismissed as well as the servants, and this fact swelled the +hope of the Party of Decency, as they called themselves. Upon it they +proceeded to act, and strengthened themselves on all sides. + +The action of the king's body-guard remained for a time uncertain. But +when at length its officers were satisfied that both the master of the +horse and their colonel were missing, they placed themselves under the +orders of the first priest. + +Everyone dated the culmination of the evil from the visit of the miner +and his mongrel; and the butchers vowed, if they could but get hold of +them again, they would roast both of them alive. At once they formed +themselves into a regiment, and put their dogs in training for attack. + +Incessant was the talk, innumerable were the suggestions, and great was +the deliberation. The general consent, however, was that as soon as the +priests should have expelled the demons, they would depose the king, +and, attired in all his regal insignia, shut him in a cage for public +show; then choose governors, with the lord chancellor at their head, +whose first duty should be to remit every possible tax; and the +magistrates, by the mouth of the city marshal, required all able-bodied +citizens, in order to do their part towards the carrying out of these +and a multitude of other reforms, to be ready to take arms at the first +summons. + +Things needful were prepared as speedily as possible, and a mighty +ceremony, in the temple, in the market-place, and in front of the +palace, was performed for the expulsion of the demons. This over, the +leaders retired to arrange an attack upon the palace. + +But that night events occurred which, proving the failure of their +first, induced the abandonment of their second intent. Certain of the +prowling order of the community, whose numbers had of late been steadily +on the increase, reported frightful things. Demons of indescribable +ugliness had been espied careering through the midnight streets and +courts. A citizen--some said in the very act of house-breaking, but no +one cared to look into trifles at such a crisis--had been seized from +behind, he could not see by what, and soused in the river. A well-known +receiver of stolen goods had had his shop broken open, and when he came +down in the morning had found everything in ruin on the pavement. The +wooden image of justice over the door of the city marshal had had the +arm that held the sword _bitten_ off. The gluttonous magistrate had been +pulled from his bed in the dark, by beings of which he could see nothing +but the flaming eyes, and treated to a bath of the turtle soup that had +been left simmering by the side of the kitchen fire. Having poured it +over him, they put him again into his bed, where he soon learned how a +mummy must feel in its cerements. Worst of all, in the market-place was +fixed up a paper, with the king's own signature, to the effect that +whoever henceforth should show inhospitality to strangers, and should be +convicted of the same, should be instantly expelled the city; while a +second, in the butchers' quarter, ordained that any dog which +henceforward should attack a stranger should be immediately destroyed. +It was plain, said the butchers, that the clergy were of no use; _they_ +could not exorcise demons! That afternoon, catching sight of a poor old +fellow in rags and tatters, quietly walking up the street, they hounded +their dogs upon him, and had it not been that the door of Derba's +cottage was standing open, and was near enough for him to dart in and +shut it ere they reached him, he would have been torn in pieces. + +And thus things went on for some days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +BARBARA. + + +In the meantime, with Derba to minister to his wants, with Curdie to +protect him, and Irene to nurse him, the king was getting rapidly +stronger. Good food was what he most wanted, and of that, at least of +certain kinds of it, there was plentiful store in the palace. Everywhere +since the cleansing of the lower regions of it, the air was clean and +sweet, and under the honest hands of the one housemaid the king's +chamber became a pleasure to his eyes. With such changes it was no +wonder if his heart grew lighter as well as his brain clearer. + +But still evil dreams came and troubled him, the lingering result of the +wicked medicines the doctor had given him. Every night, sometimes twice +or thrice, he would wake up in terror, and it would be minutes ere he +could come to himself. The consequence was that he was always worse in +the morning, and had loss to make up during the day. This retarded his +recovery greatly. While he slept, Irene or Curdie, one or the other, +must still be always by his side. + +One night, when it was Curdie's turn with the king, he heard a cry +somewhere in the house, and as there was no other child, concluded, +notwithstanding the distance of her grandmother's room, that it must be +Barbara. Fearing something might be wrong, and noting the king's sleep +more quiet than usual, he ran to see. He found the child in the middle +of the floor, weeping bitterly, and Derba slumbering peacefully in bed. +The instant she saw him the night-lost thing ceased her crying, smiled, +and stretched out her arms to him. Unwilling to wake the old woman, who +had been working hard all day, he took the child, and carried her with +him. She clung to him so, pressing her tear-wet radiant face against +his, that her little arms threatened to choke him. When he re-entered +the chamber, he found the king sitting up in bed, fighting the phantoms +of some hideous dream. Generally upon such occasions, although he saw +his watcher, he could not dissociate him from the dream, and went raving +on. But the moment his eyes fell upon little Barbara, whom he had never +seen before, his soul came into them with a rush, and a smile like the +dawn of an eternal day overspread his countenance: the dream was +nowhere, and the child was in his heart. He stretched out his arms to +her, the child stretched out hers to him, and in five minutes they were +both asleep, each in the other's embrace. From that night Barbara had a +crib in the king's chamber, and as often as he woke, Irene or Curdie, +whichever was watching, took the sleeping child and laid her in his +arms, upon which, invariably and instantly, the dream would vanish. A +great part of the day too she would be playing on or about the king's +bed; and it was a delight to the heart of the princess to see her +amusing herself with the crown, now sitting upon it, now rolling it +hither and thither about the room like a hoop. Her grandmother entering +once while she was pretending to make porridge in it, held up her hands +in horror-struck amazement; but the king would not allow her to +interfere, for the king was now Barbara's playmate, and his crown their +plaything. + +The colonel of the guard also was growing better. Curdie went often to +see him. They were soon friends, for the best people understand each +other the easiest, and the grim old warrior loved the miner boy as if he +were at once his son and his angel. He was very anxious about his +regiment. He said the officers were mostly honest men, he believed, but +how they might be doing without him, or what they might resolve, in +ignorance of the real state of affairs, and exposed to every +misrepresentation, who could tell? Curdie proposed that he should send +for the major, offering to be the messenger. The colonel agreed, and +Curdie went--not without his mattock, because of the dogs. + +But the officers had been told by the master of the horse that their +colonel was dead, and although they were amazed he should be buried +without the attendance of his regiment, they never doubted the +information. The handwriting itself of their colonel was insufficient, +counteracted by the fresh reports daily current, to destroy the lie. The +major regarded the letter as a trap for the next officer in command, and +sent his orderly to arrest the messenger. But Curdie had had the wisdom +not to wait for an answer. + +The king's enemies said that he had first poisoned the good colonel of +the guard, and then murdered the master of the horse, and other faithful +councillors; and that his oldest and most attached domestics had but +escaped from the palace with their lives--nor all of them, for the +butler was missing. Mad or wicked, he was not only unfit to rule any +longer, but worse than unfit to have in his power and under his +influence the young princess, only hope of Gwyntystorm and the kingdom. + +The moment the lord chancellor reached his house in the country and had +got himself clothed, he began to devise how yet to destroy his master; +and the very next morning set out for the neighbouring kingdom of +Borsagrass, to invite invasion, and offer a compact with its monarch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +PETER. + + +At the cottage on the mountain everything for a time went on just as +before. It was indeed dull without Curdie, but as often as they looked +at the emerald it was gloriously green, and with nothing to fear or +regret, and everything to hope, they required little comforting. One +morning, however, at last, Peter, who had been consulting the gem, +rather now from habit than anxiety, as a farmer his barometer in +undoubtful weather, turned suddenly to his wife, the stone in his hand, +and held it up with a look of ghastly dismay. + +"Why, that's never the emerald!" said Joan. + +"It is," answered Peter; "but it were small blame to any one that took +it for a bit of bottle glass!" + +For, all save one spot right in the centre, of intensest and most +brilliant green, it looked as if the colour had been burnt out of it. + +"Run, run, Peter!" cried his wife. "Run and tell the old princess. It +may not be too late. The boy must be lying at death's door." + +Without a word Peter caught up his mattock, darted from the cottage, and +was at the bottom of the hill in less time than he usually took to get +halfway. + +The door of the king's house stood open; he rushed in and up the stair. +But after wandering about in vain for an hour, opening door after door, +and finding no way farther up, the heart of the old man had well-nigh +failed him. Empty rooms, empty rooms!--desertion and desolation +everywhere. + +At last he did come upon the door to the tower-stair. Up he darted. +Arrived at the top, he found three doors, and, one after the other, +knocked at them all. But there was neither voice nor hearing. Urged by +his faith and his dread, slowly, hesitatingly, he opened one. It +revealed a bare garret-room, nothing in it but one chair and one +spinning-wheel. He closed it, and opened the next--to start back in +terror, for he saw nothing but a great gulf, a moonless night, full of +stars, and, for all the stars, dark, dark!--a fathomless abyss. He +opened the third door, and a rush like the tide of a living sea invaded +his ears. Multitudinous wings flapped and flashed in the sun, and, like +the ascending column from a volcano, white birds innumerable shot into +the air, darkening the day with the shadow of their cloud, and then, +with a sharp sweep, as if bent sideways by a sudden wind, flew +northward, swiftly away, and vanished. The place felt like a tomb. There +seemed no breath of life left in it. Despair laid hold upon him; he +rushed down thundering with heavy feet. Out upon him darted the +housekeeper like an ogress-spider, and after her came her men; but Peter +rushed past them, heedless and careless--for had not the princess mocked +him?--and sped along the road to Gwyntystorm. What help lay in a miner's +mattock, a man's arm, a father's heart, he would bear to his boy. + +Joan sat up all night waiting his return, hoping and hoping. The +mountain was very still, and the sky was clear; but all night long the +miner sped northwards, and the heart of his wife was troubled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE SACRIFICE. + + +Things in the palace were in a strange condition: the king playing with +a child and dreaming wise dreams, waited upon by a little princess with +the heart of a queen, and a youth from the mines, who went nowhere, not +even into the king's chamber, without his mattock on his shoulder and a +horrible animal at his heels; in a room near by the colonel of his +guard, also in bed, without a soldier to obey him; in six other rooms, +far apart, six miscreants, each watched by a beast-gaoler; ministers to +them all, an old woman, a young woman, and a page; and in the +wine-cellar, forty-three animals, creatures more grotesque than ever +brain of man invented. None dared approach its gates, and seldom one +issued from them. + +All the dwellers in the city were united in enmity to the palace. It +swarmed with evil spirits, they said, whereas the evil spirits were in +the city, unsuspected. One consequence of their presence was that, when +the rumour came that a great army was on the march against Gwyntystorm, +instead of rushing to their defences, to make new gates, free +portcullises and drawbridges, and bar the river, each and all flew first +to their treasures, burying them in their cellars and gardens, and +hiding them behind stones in their chimneys; and, next to rebellion, +signing an invitation to his majesty of Borsagrass to enter at their +open gates, destroy their king, and annex their country to his own. + +The straits of isolation were soon found in the palace: its invalids +were requiring stronger food, and what was to be done? for if the +butchers sent meat to the palace, was it not likely enough to be +poisoned? Curdie said to Derba he would think of some plan before +morning. + +But that same night, as soon as it was dark, Lina came to her master, +and let him understand she wanted to go out. He unlocked a little +private postern for her, left it so that she could push it open when she +returned, and told the crocodile to stretch himself across it inside. +Before midnight she came back with a young deer. + +Early the next morning the legserpent crept out of the wine-cellar, +through the broken door behind, shot into the river, and soon appeared +in the kitchen with a splendid sturgeon. Every night Lina went out +hunting, and every morning Legserpent went out fishing, and both +invalids and household had plenty to eat. As to news, the page, in plain +clothes, would now and then venture out into the market-place, and +gather some. + +One night he came back with the report that the army of the king of +Borsagrass had crossed the border. Two days after, he brought the news +that the enemy was now but twenty miles from Gwyntystorm. + +The colonel of the guard rose, and began furbishing his armour--but gave +it over to the page, and staggered across to the barracks, which were in +the next street. The sentry took him for a ghost or worse, ran into the +guard-room, bolted the door, and stopped his ears. The poor colonel, who +was yet hardly able to stand, crawled back despairing. + +For Curdie, he had already, as soon as the first rumour reached him, +resolved, if no other instructions came, and the king continued unable +to give orders, to call Lina and the creatures, and march to meet the +enemy. If he died, he died for the right, and there was a right end of +it. He had no preparations to make, except a good sleep. + +He asked the king to let the housemaid take his place by his majesty +that night, and went and lay down on the floor of the corridor, no +farther off than a whisper would reach from the door of the chamber. +There, with an old mantle of the king's thrown over him, he was soon +fast asleep. + +Somewhere about the middle of the night, he woke suddenly, started to +his feet, and rubbed his eyes. He could not tell what had waked him. But +could he be awake, or was he not dreaming? The curtain of the king's +door, a dull red ever before, was glowing a gorgeous, a radiant purple; +and the crown wrought upon it in silks and gems was flashing as if it +burned! What could it mean? Was the king's chamber on fire? He darted to +the door and lifted the curtain. Glorious terrible sight! + +A long and broad marble table, that stood at one end of the room, had +been drawn into the middle of it, and thereon burned a great fire, of a +sort that Curdie knew--a fire of glowing, flaming roses, red and white. +In the midst of the roses lay the king, moaning, but motionless. Every +rose that fell from the table to the floor, some one, whom Curdie could +not plainly see for the brightness, lifted and laid burning upon the +king's face, until at length his face too was covered with the live +roses, and he lay all within the fire, moaning still, with now and then +a shuddering sob. And the shape that Curdie saw and could not see, wept +over the king as he lay in the fire, and often she hid her face in +handfuls of her shadowy hair, and from her hair the water of her +weeping dropped like sunset rain in the light of the roses. At last +she lifted a great armful of her hair, and shook it over the fire, and +the drops fell from it in showers, and they did not hiss in the flames, +but there arose instead as it were the sound of running brooks. And the +glow of the red fire died away, and the glow of the white fire grew +gray, and the light was gone, and on the table all was black--except the +face of the king, which shone from under the burnt roses like a diamond +in the ashes of a furnace. + +[Illustration: "_In the midst of the roses lay the king, moaning, but +motionless._"] + +Then Curdie, no longer dazzled, saw and knew the old princess. The room +was lighted with the splendour of her face, of her blue eyes, of her +sapphire crown. Her golden hair went streaming out from her through the +air till it went off in mist and light. She was large and strong as a +Titaness. She stooped over the table-altar, put her mighty arms under +the living sacrifice, lifted the king, as if he were but a little child, +to her bosom, walked with him up the floor, and laid him in his bed. +Then darkness fell. + +The miner-boy turned silent away, and laid himself down again in the +corridor. An absolute joy filled his heart, his bosom, his head, his +whole body. All was safe; all was well. With the helve of his mattock +tight in his grasp, he sank into a dreamless sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +THE KING'S ARMY. + + +He woke like a giant refreshed with wine. + +When he went into the king's chamber, the housemaid sat where he had +left her, and everything in the room was as it had been the night +before, save that a heavenly odour of roses filled the air of it. He +went up to the bed. The king opened his eyes, and the soul of perfect +health shone out of them. Nor was Curdie amazed in his delight. + +"Is it not time to rise, Curdie?" said the king. + +"It is, your majesty. To-day we must be doing," answered Curdie. + +"What must we be doing to-day, Curdie?" + +"Fighting, sire." + +"Then fetch me my armour--that of plated steel, in the chest there. You +will find the underclothing with it." + +As he spoke, he reached out his hand for his sword, which hung in the +bed before him, drew it, and examined the blade. + +"A little rusty!" he said, "but the edge is there. We shall polish it +ourselves to-day--not on the wheel. Curdie, my son, I wake from a +troubled dream. A glorious torture has ended it, and I live. I know not +well how things are, but thou shalt explain them to me as I get on my +armour.--No, I need no bath. I am clean.--Call the colonel of the +guard." + +In complete steel the old man stepped into the chamber. He knew it not, +but the old princess had passed through his room in the night. + +"Why, Sir Bronzebeard!" said the king, "you are dressed before me! Thou +needest no valet, old man, when there is battle in the wind!" + +"Battle, sire!" returned the colonel. "--Where then are our soldiers?" + +"Why, there, and here," answered the king, pointing to the colonel +first, and then to himself. "Where else, man?--The enemy will be upon us +ere sunset, if we be not upon him ere noon. What other thing was in thy +brave brain when thou didst don thine armour, friend?" + +"Your majesty's orders, sire," answered Sir Bronzebeard. + +The king smiled and turned to Curdie. + +"And what was in thine, Curdie--for thy first word was of battle?" + +"See, your majesty," answered Curdie; "I have polished my mattock. If +your majesty had not taken the command, I would have met the enemy at +the head of my beasts, and died in comfort, or done better." + +"Brave boy!" said the king. "He who takes his life in his hand is the +only soldier. Thou shalt head thy beasts to-day.--Sir Bronzebeard, wilt +thou die with me if need be?" + +"Seven times, my king," said the colonel. + +"Then shall we win this battle!" said the king. "--Curdie, go and bind +securely the six, that we lose not their guards.--Canst thou find us a +horse, think'st thou, Sir Bronzebeard? Alas! they told us our white +charger was dead." + +"I will go and fright the varletry with my presence, and secure, I +trust, a horse for your majesty, and one for myself." + +"And look you, brother!" said the king; "bring one for my miner boy too, +and a sober old charger for the princess, for she too must go to the +battle, and conquer with us." + +"Pardon me, sire," said Curdie; "a miner can fight best on foot. I might +smite my horse dead under me with a missed blow. And besides, I must be +near my beasts." + +"As you will," said the king. "--Three horses then, Sir Bronzebeard." + +The colonel departed, doubting sorely in his heart how to accoutre and +lead from the barrack stables three horses, in the teeth of his revolted +regiment. + +In the hall he met the housemaid. + +"Can you lead a horse?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Are you willing to die for the king?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Can you do as you are bid?" + +"I can keep on trying, sir." + +"Come, then. Were I not a man I would be a woman such as thou." + +When they entered the barrack-yard, the soldiers scattered like autumn +leaves before a blast of winter. They went into the stable +unchallenged--and lo! in a stall, before the colonel's eyes, stood the +king's white charger, with the royal saddle and bridle hung high beside +him! + +"Traitorous thieves!" muttered the old man in his beard, and went along +the stalls, looking for his own black charger. Having found him, he +returned to saddle first the king's. But the maid had already the +saddle upon him, and so girt that the colonel could thrust no +finger-tip between girth and skin. He left her to finish what she had so +well begun, and went and graithed his own. He then chose for the +princess a great red horse, twenty years old, which he knew to possess +every equine virtue. This and his own he led to the palace, and the maid +led the king's. + +The king and Curdie stood in the court, the king in full armour of +silvered steel, with a circlet of rubies and diamonds round his helmet. +He almost leaped for joy when he saw his great white charger come in, +gentle as a child to the hand of the housemaid. But when the horse saw +his master in his armour, he reared and bounded in jubilation, yet did +not break from the hand that held him. Then out came the princess +attired and ready, with a hunting-knife her father had given her by her +side. They brought her mother's saddle, splendent with gems and gold, +set it on the great red horse, and lifted her to it. But the saddle was +so big, and the horse so tall, that the child found no comfort in them. + +"Please, king papa," she said, "can I not have my white pony?" + +"I did not think of him, little one," said the king. "Where is he?" + +"In the stable," answered the maid. "I found him half-starved, the only +horse within the gates, the day after the servants were driven out. He +has been well fed since." + +"Go and fetch him," said the king. + +As the maid appeared with the pony, from a side door came Lina and the +forty-nine, following Curdie. + +"I will go with Curdie and the Uglies," cried the princess; and as soon +as she was mounted she got into the middle of the pack. + +So out they set, the strangest force that ever went against an enemy. +The king in silver armour sat stately on his white steed, with the +stones flashing on his helmet; beside him the grim old colonel, armed in +steel, rode his black charger; behind the king, a little to the right, +Curdie walked afoot, his mattock shining in the sun; Lina followed at +his heel; behind her came the wonderful company of Uglies; in the midst +of them rode the gracious little Irene, dressed in blue, and mounted on +the prettiest of white ponies; behind the colonel, a little to the left, +walked the page, armed in a breastplate, headpiece, and trooper's sword +he had found in the palace, all much too big for him, and carrying a +huge brass trumpet which he did his best to blow; and the king smiled +and seemed pleased with his music, although it was but the grunt of a +brazen unrest. Alongside of the beasts walked Derba carrying +Barbara--their refuge the mountains, should the cause of the king be +lost; as soon as they were over the river they turned aside to ascend +the cliff, and there awaited the forging of the day's history. Then +first Curdie saw that the housemaid, whom they had all forgotten, was +following, mounted on the great red horse, and seated in the royal +saddle. + +Many were the eyes unfriendly of women that had stared at them from door +and window as they passed through the city; and low laughter and mockery +and evil words from the lips of children had rippled about their ears; +but the men were all gone to welcome the enemy, the butchers the first, +the king's guard the last. And now on the heels of the king's army +rushed out the women and children also, to gather flowers and branches, +wherewith to welcome their conquerors. + +About a mile down the river, Curdie, happening to look behind him, saw +the maid, whom he had supposed gone with Derba, still following on the +great red horse. The same moment the king, a few paces in front of him, +caught sight of the enemy's tents, pitched where, the cliffs receding, +the bank of the river widened to a little plain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE BATTLE. + + +He commanded the page to blow his trumpet; and, in the strength of the +moment, the youth uttered a right war-like defiance. + +But the butchers and the guard, who had gone over armed to the enemy, +thinking that the king had come to make his peace also, and that it +might thereafter go hard with them, rushed at once to make short work +with him, and both secure and commend themselves. The butchers came on +first--for the guards had slackened their saddle-girths--brandishing +their knives, and talking to their dogs. Curdie and the page, with Lina +and her pack, bounded to meet them. Curdie struck down the foremost with +his mattock. The page, finding his sword too much for him, threw it away +and seized the butcher's knife, which as he rose he plunged into the +foremost dog. Lina rushed raging and gnashing amongst them. She would +not look at a dog so long as there was a butcher on his legs, and she +never stopped to kill a butcher, only with one grind of her jaws crushed +a leg of him. When they were all down, then indeed she flashed amongst +the dogs. + +Meantime the king and the colonel had spurred towards the advancing +guard. The king clove the major through skull and collar-bone, and the +colonel stabbed the captain in the throat. Then a fierce combat +commenced--two against many. But the butchers and their dogs quickly +disposed of, up came Curdie and his beasts. The horses of the guard, +struck with terror, turned in spite of the spur, and fled in confusion. + +Thereupon the forces of Borsagrass, which could see little of the +affair, but correctly imagined a small determined body in front of them, +hastened to the attack. No sooner did their first advancing wave appear +through the foam of the retreating one, than the king and the colonel +and the page, Curdie and the beasts, went charging upon them. Their +attack, especially the rush of the Uglies, threw the first line into +great confusion, but the second came up quickly; the beasts could not be +everywhere, there were thousands to one against them, and the king and +his three companions were in the greatest possible danger. + +[Illustration: "_The king and the colonel and the page, Curdie and the +beasts, went charging upon them._"] + +A dense cloud came over the sun, and sank rapidly towards the earth. The +cloud moved "all together," and yet the thousands of white flakes of +which it was made up moved each for itself in ceaseless and rapid +motion: those flakes were the wings of pigeons. Down swooped the birds +upon the invaders; right in the face of man and horse they flew with +swift-beating wings, blinding eyes and confounding brain. Horses reared +and plunged and wheeled. All was at once in confusion. The men made +frantic efforts to seize their tormentors, but not one could they touch; +and they outdoubled them in numbers. Between every wild clutch came a +peck of beak and a buffet of pinion in the face. Generally the bird +would, with sharp-clapping wings, dart its whole body, with the +swiftness of an arrow, against its singled mark, yet so as to glance +aloft the same instant, and descend skimming; much as the thin stone, +shot with horizontal cast of arm, having touched and torn the surface of +the lake, ascends to skim, touch, and tear again. So mingled the +feathered multitude in the grim game of war. It was a storm in which the +wind was birds, and the sea men. And ever as each bird arrived at the +rear of the enemy, it turned, ascended, and sped to the front to charge +again. + +The moment the battle began, the princess's pony took fright, and turned +and fled. But the maid wheeled her horse across the road and stopped +him; and they waited together the result of the battle. + +And as they waited, it seemed to the princess right strange that the +pigeons, every one as it came to the rear, and fetched a compass to +gather force for the re-attack, should make the head of her attendant on +the red horse the goal around which it turned; so that about them was an +unintermittent flapping and flashing of wings, and a curving, sweeping +torrent of the side-poised wheeling bodies of birds. Strange also it +seemed that the maid should be constantly waving her arm towards the +battle. And the time of the motion of her arm so fitted with the rushes +of birds, that it looked as if the birds obeyed her gesture, and she +were casting living javelins by the thousand against the enemy. The +moment a pigeon had rounded her head, it went off straight as bolt from +bow, and with trebled velocity. + +But of these strange things, others besides the princess had taken note. +From a rising ground whence they watched the battle in growing dismay, +the leaders of the enemy saw the maid and her motions, and, concluding +her an enchantress, whose were the airy legions humiliating them, set +spurs to their horses, made a circuit, outflanked the king, and came +down upon her. But suddenly by her side stood a stalwart old man in the +garb of a miner, who, as the general rode at her, sword in hand, +heaved his swift mattock, and brought it down with such force on the +forehead of his charger, that he fell to the ground like a log. His +rider shot over his head and lay stunned. Had not the great red horse +reared and wheeled, he would have fallen beneath that of the general. + +[Illustration: "_It looked as if the birds obeyed her gesture, and she +were casting living javelins by the thousand against the enemy._"] + +With lifted sabre, one of his attendant officers rode at the miner. But +a mass of pigeons darted in the faces of him and his horse, and the next +moment he lay beside his commander. The rest of them turned and fled, +pursued by the birds. + +"Ah, friend Peter!" said the maid; "thou hast come as I told thee! +Welcome and thanks!" + +By this time the battle was over. The rout was general. The enemy +stormed back upon their own camp, with the beasts roaring in the midst +of them, and the king and his army, now reinforced by one, pursuing. But +presently the king drew rein. + +"Call off your hounds, Curdie, and let the pigeons do the rest," he +shouted, and turned to see what had become of the princess. + +In full panic fled the invaders, sweeping down their tents, stumbling +over their baggage, trampling on their dead and wounded, ceaselessly +pursued and buffeted by the white-winged army of heaven. Homeward they +rushed the road they had come, straight for the borders, many dropping +from pure fatigue, and lying where they fell. And still the pigeons were +in their necks as they ran. At length to the eyes of the king and his +army nothing was visible save a dust-cloud below, and a bird-cloud +above. + +Before night the bird-cloud came back, flying high over Gwyntystorm. +Sinking swiftly, it disappeared among the ancient roofs of the palace. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +JUDGMENT. + + +The king and his army returned, bringing with them one prisoner only, +the lord chancellor. Curdie had dragged him from under a fallen tent, +not by the hand of a man, but by the foot of a mule. + +When they entered the city, it was still as the grave. The citizens had +fled home. "We must submit," they cried, "or the king and his demons +will destroy us." The king rode through the streets in silence, +ill-pleased with his people. But he stopped his horse in the midst of +the market-place, and called, in a voice loud and clear as the cry of a +silver trumpet, "Go and find your own. Bury your dead, and bring home +your wounded." Then he turned him gloomily to the palace. + +Just as they reached the gates, Peter, who, as they went, had been +telling his tale to Curdie, ended it with the words,-- + +"And so there I was, in the nick of time to save the two princesses!" + +"The _two_ princesses, father! The one on the great red horse was the +housemaid," said Curdie, and ran to open the gates for the king. + +They found Derba returned before them, and already busy preparing them +food. The king put up his charger with his own hands, rubbed him down, +and fed him. + +When they had washed, and eaten and drunk, he called the colonel, and +told Curdie and the page to bring out the traitors and the beasts, and +attend him to the market-place. + +By this time the people were crowding back into the city, bearing their +dead and wounded. And there was lamentation in Gwyntystorm, for no one +could comfort himself, and no one had any to comfort him. The nation was +victorious, but the people were conquered. + +The king stood in the centre of the market-place, upon the steps of the +ancient cross. He had laid aside his helmet and put on his crown, but he +stood all armed beside, with his sword in his hand. He called the people +to him, and, for all the terror of the beasts, they dared not disobey +him. Those even, who were carrying their wounded laid them down, and +drew near trembling. + +Then the king said to Curdie and the page,-- + +"Set the evil men before me." + +[Illustration: "_To the body of the animal they bound the lord +chamberlain, speechless with horror._"] + +He looked upon them for a moment in mingled anger and pity, then turned +to the people and said,-- + +"Behold your trust! Ye slaves, behold your leaders! I would have freed +you, but ye would not be free. Now shall ye be ruled with a rod of iron, +that ye may learn what freedom is, and love it and seek it. These +wretches I will send where they shall mislead you no longer." + +He made a sign to Curdie, who immediately brought up the leg serpent. To +the body of the animal they bound the lord chamberlain, speechless with +horror. The butler began to shriek and pray, but they bound him on the +back of Clubhead. One after another, upon the largest of the creatures +they bound the whole seven, each through the unveiling terror looking +the villain he was. Then said the king,-- + +"I thank you, my good beasts; and I hope to visit you ere long. Take +these evil men with you, and go to your place." + +Like a whirlwind they were in the crowd, scattering it like dust. Like +hounds they rushed from the city, their burdens howling and raving. + +What became of them I have never heard. + +Then the king turned once more to the people and said, "Go to your +houses;" nor vouchsafed them another word. They crept home like chidden +hounds. + +The king returned to the palace. He made the colonel a duke, and the +page a knight, and Peter he appointed general of all his mines. But to +Curdie he said,-- + +"You are my own boy, Curdie. My child cannot choose but love you, and +when you are both grown up--if you both will--you shall marry each +other, and be king and queen when I am gone. Till then be the king's +Curdie." + +Irene held out her arms to Curdie. He raised her in his, and she kissed +him. + +"And my Curdie too!" she said. + +Thereafter the people called him Prince Conrad; but the king always +called him either just _Curdie_, or _My miner-boy_. + +They sat down to supper, and Derba and the knight and the housemaid +waited, and Barbara sat on the king's left hand. The housemaid poured +out the wine; and as she poured out for Curdie red wine that foamed in +the cup, as if glad to see the light whence it had been banished so +long, she looked him in the eyes. And Curdie started, and sprang from +his seat, and dropped on his knees, and burst into tears. And the maid +said with a smile, such as none but one could smile,-- + +"Did I not tell you, Curdie, that it might be you would not know me when +next you saw me?" + +Then she went from the room, and in a moment returned in royal purple, +with a crown of diamonds and rubies, from under which her hair went +flowing to the floor, all about her ruby-slippered feet. Her face was +radiant with joy, the joy overshadowed by a faint mist as of +unfulfilment. The king rose and kneeled on one knee before her. All +kneeled in like homage. Then the king would have yielded her his royal +chair. But she made them all sit down, and with her own hands placed at +the table seats for Derba and the page. Then in ruby crown and royal +purple she served them all. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE END + + +The king sent Curdie out into his dominions to search for men and women +that had human hands. And many such he found, honest and true, and +brought them to his master. So a new and upright government, a new and +upright court, was formed, and strength returned to the nation. + +But the exchequer was almost empty, for the evil men had squandered +everything, and the king hated taxes unwillingly paid. Then came Curdie +and said to the king that the city stood upon gold. And the king sent +for men wise in the ways of the earth, and they built smelting furnaces, +and Peter brought miners, and they mined the gold, and smelted it, and +the king coined it into money, and therewith established things well in +the land. + +The same day on which he found his boy, Peter set out to go home. When +he told the good news to Joan his wife, she rose from her chair and +said, "Let us go." And they left the cottage, and repaired to +Gwyntystorm. And on a mountain above the city they built themselves a +warm house for their old age, high in the clear air. + +As Peter mined one day by himself, at the back of the king's +wine-cellar, he broke into a cavern all crusted with gems, and much +wealth flowed therefrom, and the king used it wisely. + +Queen Irene--that was the right name of the old princess--was thereafter +seldom long absent from the palace. Once or twice when she was missing, +Barbara, who seemed to know of her sometimes when nobody else had a +notion whither she had gone, said she was with the dear old Uglies in +the wood. Curdie thought that perhaps her business might be with others +there as well. All the uppermost rooms in the palace were left to her +use, and when any one was in need of her help, up thither he must go. +But even when she was there, he did not always succeed in finding her. +She, however, always knew that such a one had been looking for her. + +Curdie went to find her one day. As he ascended the last stair, to meet +him came the well-known scent of her roses; and when he opened her door, +lo! there was the same gorgeous room in which his touch had been +glorified by her fire! And there burned the fire--a huge heap of red +and white roses. Before the hearth stood the princess, an old +gray-haired woman, with Lina a little behind her, slowly wagging her +tail, and looking like a beast of prey that can hardly so long restrain +itself from springing as to be sure of its victim. The queen was casting +roses, more and more roses, upon the fire. At last she turned and said, +"Now, Lina!"--and Lina dashed burrowing into the fire. There went up a +black smoke and a dust, and Lina was never more seen in the palace. + +Irene and Curdie were married. The old king died, and they were king and +queen. As long as they lived Gwyntystorm was a better city, and good +people grew in it. But they had no children, and when they died the +people chose a king. And the new king went mining and mining in the rock +under the city, and grew more and more eager after the gold, and paid +less and less heed to his people. Rapidly they sunk towards their old +wickedness. But still the king went on mining, and coining gold by the +pailful, until the people were worse even than in the old time. And so +greedy was the king after gold, that when at last the ore began to fail, +he caused the miners to reduce the pillars which Peter and they that +followed him had left standing to bear the city. And from the girth of +an oak of a thousand years, they chipped them down to that of a fir tree +of fifty. + +One day at noon, when life was at its highest, the whole city fell with +a roaring crash. The cries of men and the shrieks of women went up with +its dust, and then there was a great silence. + +Where the mighty rock once towered, crowded with homes and crowned with +a palace, now rushes and raves a stone-obstructed rapid of the river. +All around spreads a wilderness of wild deer, and the very name of +Gwyntystorm has ceased from the lips of men. + + +THE END. + + + + +_PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO._ + + + FAIRY STORY BOOKS + + +ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. + +Profusely Illustrated. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00. + + +THE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. + +Containing Stories Omitted in the One Thousand and One Nights. +Translated and Edited by W. F. Kirby. With over 30 full-page +Illustrations. 12mo. Extra cloth. $2.00. + + +ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. + +German Fairy Tales. By Hans Christian Andersen. With 14 Illustrations. +12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. + + +GERMAN FAIRY TALES. + +Translated by Charles A. Dana. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. + + +EASTERN FAIRY LEGENDS. + +Current in Southern India. Collected by M. Frere. Illustrated. 12mo. +Extra cloth. $1.25. + + +FAMOUS FAIRY TALES. + +Told in Words of One Syllable. Containing all the Old-Fashioned Nursery +Tales, such as Goody Two Shoes, Blue Beard, Hop-O'My-Thumb, etc., etc. +By Harriet B. Audubon. With elegant illuminated covers. 1 vol. 4to. +Extra cloth. $2.00. + + +SPANISH FAIRY TALES. + +By Fernan Caballero. Translated by J. H. Ingram. Illustrated. 12mo. +Extra cloth. $1.25. + + + JUVENILE LIBRARIES. + + +=BAKER'S LIBRARY OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE.= + +Containing--Eight Years' Wanderings in Ceylon; The Rifle and +Hound in Ceylon; and Cast Up by the Sea. By Sir S. W. BAKER. +3 vols. 12mo. Many Illustrations. Extra cloth. $3.75. + + +=BALLANTYNE'S LIBRARY OF STORY.= + +Containing--The Red Eric; Deep Down: a Tale of the Cornish Mines; The +Fire Brigade, or Fighting the Flames: a Tale of London; Erling the Bold: +a Tale of the Norse Sea Kings. 4 vols. Handsomely Illustrated. 12mo. +Extra cloth. $5.00. + + +=DALTON LIBRARY OF ADVENTURE.= + +Containing--The Wolf Boy of China; The White Elephant, or The Hunters of +Ava, and the King of the Golden Foot; The War Tiger, or Adventures and +Wonderful Fortunes of the Young Sea Chief and his Lad Chow; The Tiger +Prince, or Adventures in the Wilds of Abyssinia. 4 vols. 16mo. +Illustrated. Extra cloth. $5.00. + + +=EDGEWORTH'S YOUNG FOLKS' LIBRARY.= + +Containing--Parent's Assistant; Popular Tales; Moral Tales. Illustrated. +3 vols. 16mo. Extra cloth. $3.75. + + +=ENTERTAINING LIBRARY.= + +Story and Instruction Combined. 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Cloth, gilt extra. $1.25. + + +_OUR YOUNG FOLKS IN AFRICA._ + +The Adventures of Four Young Americans in the Wilds of Africa. By JAMES +D. MCCABE, author of "Our Young Folks Abroad." Fully Illustrated. 4to. +Boards, $1.75. Extra cloth. $2.25. + + +_OUR YOUNG FOLKS ABROAD._ + +The Adventures of Four American Boys and Girls in a Journey Through +Europe to Constantinople. By JAMES D. MCCABE, author of "Our Young Folks +in Africa." Profusely Illustrated. 8vo. Extra cloth. $2.25. Illuminated +board covers. $1.75. + + +_FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON._ + +Or, Journey and Discoveries in Africa by Three Englishmen. By JULES +VERNE. Illustrated. 12mo. Fine cloth. $1.25. + + +_IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS._ + +A Romantic Narrative of the Loss of Captain Grant, and of the Adventures +of his Children and Friends in his Discovery and Rescue. Being a Voyage +Round the World. By JULES VERNE. New Edition. Illustrated with 172 +Engravings. 8vo. Extra cloth. $2.50. + + +_BIMBI._ + +Stories for Children. 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