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diff --git a/496-0.txt b/496-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fff5ea3 --- /dev/null +++ b/496-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5185 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Lame Prince, by +Miss Mulock--Pseudonym of Maria Dinah Craik + +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 Little Lame Prince + And: The Invisible Prince; Prince Cherry; The Prince With The Nose + The Frog-Prince; Clever Alice + +Author: Miss Mulock--Pseudonym of Maria Dinah Craik + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #496] +Last Updated: March 6, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + + + + + +THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE + +By Miss Mulock [Pseudonym of Maria Dinah Craik] + + +CONTENTS + + THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE + THE INVISIBLE PRINCE + PRINCE CHERRY + THE PRINCE WITH THE NOSE + THE FROG-PRINCE + CLEVER ALICE + + + + + +THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE + + + +CHAPTER I + +Yes, he was the most beautiful Prince that ever was born. + +Of course, being a prince, people said this; but it was true besides. +When he looked at the candle, his eyes had an expression of earnest +inquiry quite startling in a new born baby. His nose--there was not +much of it certainly, but what there was seemed an aquiline shape; +his complexion was a charming, healthy purple; he was round and fat, +straight-limbed and long--in fact, a splendid baby, and everybody was +exceedingly proud of him, especially his father and mother, the King and +Queen of Nomansland, who had waited for him during their happy reign of +ten years--now made happier than ever, to themselves and their subjects, +by the appearance of a son and heir. + +The only person who was not quite happy was the King's brother, the +heir presumptive, who would have been king one day had the baby not been +born. But as his majesty was very kind to him, and even rather sorry for +him--insomuch that at the Queen's request he gave him a dukedom almost +as big as a county--the Crown-Prince, as he was called, tried to seem +pleased also; and let us hope he succeeded. + +The Prince's christening was to be a grand affair. According to the +custom of the country, there were chosen for him four-and-twenty +god-fathers and godmothers, who each had to give him a name, and promise +to do their utmost for him. When he came of age, he himself had to +choose the name--and the godfather or god-mother--that he liked the +best, for the rest of his days. + +Meantime all was rejoicing. Subscriptions were made among the rich to +give pleasure to the poor; dinners in town-halls for the workingmen; +tea-parties in the streets for their wives; and milk-and-bun feasts for +the children in the schoolrooms. For Nomansland, though I cannot point +it out in any map, or read of it in any history, was, I believe, much +like our own or many another country. + +As for the palace--which was no different from other palaces--it was +clean “turned out of the windows,” as people say, with the preparations +going on. The only quiet place in it was the room which, though the +Prince was six weeks old, his mother the Queen had never quitted. Nobody +said she was ill, however--it would have been so inconvenient; and as +she said nothing about it herself, but lay pale and placid, giving no +trouble to anybody, nobody thought much about her. All the world was +absorbed in admiring the baby. + +The christening-day came at last, and it was as lovely as the Prince +himself. All the people in the palace were lovely too--or thought +themselves so--in the elegant new clothes which the Queen, who thought +of everybody, had taken care to give them, from the ladies-in-waiting +down to the poor little kitchen-maid, who looked at herself in her pink +cotton gown, and thought, doubtless, that there never was such a pretty +girl as she. + +By six in the morning all the royal household had dressed itself in +its very best; and then the little Prince was dressed in his best--his +magnificent christening robe; which proceeding his Royal Highness did +not like at all, but kicked and screamed like any common baby. When he +had a little calmed down, they carried him to be looked at by the Queen +his mother, who, though her royal robes had been brought and laid upon +the bed, was, as everybody well knew, quite unable to rise and put them +on. + +She admired her baby very much; kissed and blessed him, and lay looking +at him, as she did for hours sometimes, when he was placed beside her +fast asleep; then she gave him up with a gentle smile, and, saying she +hoped he would be very good, that it would be a very nice christening, +and all the guests would enjoy themselves, turned peacefully over on +her bed, saying nothing more to anybody. She was a very uncomplaining +person, the Queen--and her name was Dolorez. + +Everything went on exactly as if she had been present. All, even the +king himself, had grown used to her absence; for she was not strong, +and for years had not joined in any gayeties. She always did her royal +duties, but as to pleasures, they could go on quite well without her, or +it seemed so. The company arrived: great and notable persons in this +and neighboring countries; also the four-and-twenty godfathers and +godmothers, who had been chosen with care, as the people who would be +most useful to his royal highness should he ever want friends, which did +not seem likely. What such want could possibly happen to the heir of the +powerful monarch of Nomansland? + +They came, walking two and two, with their coronets on their +heads--being dukes and duchesses, princes and princesses, or the like; +they all kissed the child and pronounced the name each had given him. +Then the four-and-twenty names were shouted out with great energy by +six heralds, one after the other, and afterward written down, to be +preserved in the state records, in readiness for the next time they were +wanted, which would be either on his Royal Highness' coronation or his +funeral. + +Soon the ceremony was over, and everybody satisfied; except, perhaps, +the little Prince himself, who moaned faintly under his christening +robes, which nearly smothered him. + +In truth, though very few knew, the Prince in coming to the chapel had +met with a slight disaster. His nurse,--not his ordinary one, but the +state nurse-maid,--an elegant and fashionable young lady of rank, whose +duty it was to carry him to and from the chapel, had been so occupied +in arranging her train with one hand, while she held the baby with +the other, that she stumbled and let him fall, just at the foot of the +marble staircase. + +To be sure, she contrived to pick him up again the next minute; and the +accident was so slight it seemed hardly worth speaking of. Consequently +nobody did speak of it. The baby had turned deadly pale, but did not +cry, so no person a step or two behind could discover anything wrong; +afterward, even if he had moaned, the silver trumpets were loud enough +to drown his voice. It would have been a pity to let anything trouble +such a day of felicity. + +So, after a minute's pause, the procession had moved on. Such a +procession t Heralds in blue and silver; pages in crimson and gold; and +a troop of little girls in dazzling white, carrying baskets of flowers, +which they strewed all the way before the nurse and child--finally the +four-and-twenty godfathers and godmothers, as proud as possible, and so +splendid to look at that they would have quite extinguished their small +godson--merely a heap of lace and muslin with a baby face inside--had it +not been for a canopy of white satin and ostrich feathers which was held +over him wherever he was carried. + +Thus, with the sun shining on them through the painted windows, they +stood; the king and his train on one side, the Prince and his attendants +on the other, as pretty a sight as ever was seen out of fairyland. + +“It's just like fairyland,” whispered the eldest little girl to the next +eldest, as she shook the last rose out of her basket; “and I think the +only thing the Prince wants now is a fairy god-mother.” + +“Does he?” said a shrill but soft and not unpleasant voice behind; and +there was seen among the group of children somebody,--not a child, yet +no bigger than a child,--somebody whom nobody had seen before, and who +certainly had not been invited, for she had no christening clothes on. + +She was a little old woman dressed all in gray: gray gown; gray +hooded cloak, of a material excessively fine, and a tint that seemed +perpetually changing, like the gray of an evening sky. Her hair was +gray, and her eyes also--even her complexion had a soft gray shadow over +it. But there was nothing unpleasantly old about her, and her smile was +as sweet and childlike as the Prince's own, which stole over his pale +little face the instant she came near enough to touch him. + +“Take care! Don't let the baby fall again.” + +The grand young lady nurse started, flushing angrily. + +“Who spoke to me? How did anybody know?--I mean, what business has +anybody----” Then frightened, but still speaking in a much sharper tone +than I hope young ladies of rank are in the habit of speaking--“Old +woman, you will be kind enough not to say 'the baby,' but 'the Prince.' +Keep away; his Royal Highness is just going to sleep.” + +“Nevertheless I must kiss him. I am his god-mother.” + +“You!” cried the elegant lady nurse. + +“You!” repeated all the gentlemen and ladies-in-waiting. + +“You!” echoed the heralds and pages--and they began to blow the silver +trumpets in order to stop all further conversation. + +The Prince's procession formed itself for returning,--the King and his +train having already moved off toward the palace,--but on the top-most +step of the marble stairs stood, right in front of all, the little old +woman clothed in gray. + +She stretched herself on tiptoe by the help of her stick, and gave the +little Prince three kisses. + +“This is intolerable!” cried the young lady nurse, wiping the kisses +off rapidly with her lace handkerchief. “Such an insult to his Royal +Highness! Take yourself out of the way, old woman, or the King shall be +informed immediately.” + +“The King knows nothing of me, more's the pity,” replied the old woman, +with an indifferent air, as if she thought the loss was more on his +Majesty's side than hers. “My friend in the palace is the King's wife.” + +“King's have not wives, but queens,” said the lady nurse, with a +contemptuous air. + +“You are right,” replied the old woman. “Nevertheless I know her Majesty +well, and I love her and her child. And--since you dropped him on the +marble stairs (this she said in a mysterious whisper, which made the +young lady tremble in spite of her anger)--I choose to take him for my +own, and be his godmother, ready to help him whenever he wants me.” + +“You help him!” cried all the group breaking into shouts of laughter, +to which the little old woman paid not the slightest attention. Her soft +gray eyes were fixed on the Prince, who seemed to answer to the look, +smiling again and again in the causeless, aimless fashion that babies do +smile. + +“His Majesty must hear of this,” said a gentleman-in-waiting. + +“His Majesty will hear quite enough news in a minute or two,” said +the old woman sadly. And again stretching up to the little Prince, she +kissed him on the forehead solemnly. + +“Be called by a new name which nobody has ever thought of. Be Prince +Dolor, in memory of your mother Dolorez.” + +“In memory of!” Everybody started at the ominous phrase, and also at a +most terrible breach of etiquette which the old woman had committed. +In Nomansland, neither the king nor the queen was supposed to have any +Christian name at all. They dropped it on their coronation day, and it +never was mentioned again till it was engraved on their coffins when +they died. + +“Old woman, you are exceedingly ill-bred,” cried the eldest +lady-in-waiting, much horrified. “How you could know the fact passes +my comprehension. But even if you did know it, how dared you presume to +hint that her most gracious Majesty is called Dolorez?” + +“WAS called Dolorez,” said the old woman, with a tender solemnity. + +The first gentleman, called the Gold-stick-in-waiting, raised it to +strike her, and all the rest stretched out their hands to seize her; but +the gray mantle melted from between their fingers like air; and, before +anybody had time to do anything more, there came a heavy, muffled, +startling sound. + +The great bell of the palace the bell which was only heard on the death +of some one of the royal family, and for as many times as he or she was +years old--began to toll. They listened, mute and horror-stricken. Some +one counted: one--two--three--four--up to nine-and-twenty--just the +Queen's age. + +It was, indeed, the Queen. Her Majesty was dead! In the midst of the +festivities she had slipped away out of her new happiness and her old +sufferings, not few nor small. Sending away all her women to see the +grand sight,--at least they said afterward, in excuse, that she had done +so, and it was very like her to do it,--she had turned with her face +to the window, whence one could just see the tops of the distant +mountains--the Beautiful Mountains, as they were called--where she was +born. So gazing, she had quietly died. + +When the little Prince was carried back to his mother's room, there was +no mother to kiss him. And, though he did not know it, there would be +for him no mother's kiss any more. As for his godmother,--the little old +woman in gray who called herself so,--whether she melted into air, like +her gown when they touched it, or whether she flew out of the chapel +window, or slipped through the doorway among the bewildered crowd, +nobody knew--nobody ever thought about her. + +Only the nurse, the ordinary homely one, coming out of the Prince's +nursery in the middle of the night in search of a cordial to quiet his +continual moans, saw, sitting in the doorway, something which she would +have thought a mere shadow, had she not seen shining out of it two eyes, +gray and soft and sweet. She put her hand before her own, screaming +loudly. When she took them away the old woman was gone. + + + +CHAPTER II + +Everybody was very kind to the poor little prince. I think people +generally are kind to motherless children, whether princes or peasants. +He had a magnificent nursery and a regular suite of attendants, and was +treated with the greatest respect and state. Nobody was allowed to talk +to him in silly baby language, or dandle him, or, above all to kiss him, +though perhaps some people did it surreptitiously, for he was such a +sweet baby that it was difficult to help it. + +It could not be said that the Prince missed his mother--children of his +age cannot do that; but somehow after she died everything seemed to go +wrong with him. From a beautiful baby he became sickly and pale, seeming +to have almost ceased growing, especially in his legs, which had been so +fat and strong. + +But after the day of his christening they withered and shrank; he no +longer kicked them out either in passion or play, and when, as he got +to be nearly a year old, his nurse tried to make him stand upon them, he +only tumbled down. + +This happened so many times that at last people began to talk about it. +A prince, and not able to stand on his own legs! What a dreadful thing! +What a misfortune for the country! + +Rather a misfortune to him also, poor little boy! but nobody seemed to +think of that. And when, after a while, his health revived, and the old +bright look came back to his sweet little face, and his body grew larger +and stronger, though still his legs remained the same, people continued +to speak of him in whispers, and with grave shakes of the head. +Everybody knew, though nobody said it, that something, it was impossible +to guess what, was not quite right with the poor little Prince. + +Of course, nobody hinted this to the King his father: it does not do +to tell great people anything unpleasant. And besides, his Majesty +took very little notice of his son, or of his other affairs, beyond the +necessary duties of his kingdom. + +People had said he would not miss the Queen at all, she having been +so long an invalid, but he did. After her death he never was quite the +same. He established himself in her empty rooms, the only rooms in +the palace whence one could see the Beautiful Mountains, and was often +observed looking at them as if he thought she had flown away thither, +and that his longing could bring her back again. And by a curious +coincidence, which nobody dared inquire into, he desired that the Prince +might be called, not by any of the four-and-twenty grand names given him +by his godfathers and godmothers, but by the identical name mentioned by +the little old woman in gray--Dolor, after his mother Dolorez. + +Once a week, according to established state custom, the Prince, dressed +in his very best, was brought to the King his father for half an hour, +but his Majesty was generally too ill and too melancholy to pay much +heed to the child. + +Only once, when he and the Crown-Prince, who was exceedingly attentive +to his royal brother, were sitting together, with Prince Dolor playing +in a corner of the room, dragging himself about with his arms rather +than his legs, and sometimes trying feebly to crawl from one chair to +another, it seemed to strike the father that all was not right with his +son. + +“How old is his Royal Highness?” said he suddenly to the nurse. + +“Two years, three months, and five days, please your Majesty.” + +“It does not please me,” said the King, with a sigh. “He ought to be far +more forward than he is now ought he not, brother? You, who have so many +children, must know. Is there not something wrong about him?” + +“Oh, no,” said the Crown-Prince, exchanging meaning looks with the +nurse, who did not understand at all, but stood frightened and trembling +with the tears in her eyes. “Nothing to make your Majesty at all uneasy. +No doubt his Royal Highness will outgrow it in time.” + +“Outgrow--what?” + +“A slight delicacy--ahem!--in the spine; something inherited, perhaps, +from his dear mother.” + +“Ah, she was always delicate; but she was the sweetest woman that ever +lived. Come here, my little son.” + +And as the Prince turned round upon his father a small, sweet, grave +face,--so like his mother's,--his Majesty the King smiled and held out +his arms. But when the boy came to him, not running like a boy, but +wriggling awkwardly along the floor, the royal countenance clouded over. + +“I ought to have been told of this. It is terrible--terrible! And for a +prince too. Send for all the doctors in my kingdom immediately.” + +They came, and each gave a different opinion and ordered a different +mode of treatment. The only thing they agreed in was what had been +pretty well known before, that the Prince must have been hurt when he +was an infant--let fall, perhaps, so as to injure his spine and lower +limbs. Did nobody remember? + +No, nobody. Indignantly, all the nurses denied that any such accident +had happened, was possible to have happened, until the faithful +country nurse recollected that it really had happened on the day of the +christening. For which unluckily good memory all the others scolded her +so severely that she had no peace of her life, and soon after, by the +influence of the young lady nurse who had carried the baby that fatal +day, and who was a sort of connection of the Crown-Prince--being his +wife's second cousin once removed--the poor woman was pensioned off and +sent to the Beautiful Mountains from whence she came, with orders to +remain there for the rest of her days. + +But of all this the King knew nothing, for, indeed, after the first +shock of finding out that his son could not walk, and seemed never +likely to he interfered very little concerning him. The whole thing was +too painful, and his Majesty never liked painful things. Sometimes he +inquired after Prince Dolor, and they told him his Royal Highness was +going on as well as could be expected, which really was the case. For, +after worrying the poor child and perplexing themselves with one remedy +after another, the Crown-Prince, not wishing to offend any of the +differing doctors, had proposed leaving him to Nature; and Nature, the +safest doctor of all, had come to his help and done her best. + +He could not walk, it is true; his limbs were mere useless appendages to +his body; but the body itself was strong and sound. And his face was the +same as ever--just his mother's face, one of the sweetest in the world. + +Even the King, indifferent as he was, sometimes looked at the little +fellow with sad tenderness, noticing how cleverly he learned to crawl +and swing himself about by his arms, so that in his own awkward way he +was as active in motion as most children of his age. + +“Poor little man! he does his best, and he is not unhappy--not half +so unhappy as I, brother,” addressing the Crown-Prince, who was more +constant than ever in his attendance upon the sick monarch. “If anything +should befall me, I have appointed you Regent. In case of my death, you +will take care of my poor little boy?” + +“Certainly, certainly; but do not let us imagine any such misfortune. +I assure your Majesty--everybody will assure you--that it is not in the +least likely.” + +He knew, however, and everybody knew, that it was likely, and soon after +it actually did happen. The King died as suddenly and quietly as the +Queen had done--indeed, in her very room and bed; and Prince Dolor was +left without either father or mother--as sad a thing as could happen, +even to a prince. + +He was more than that now, though. He was a king. In Nomansland, as in +other countries, the people were struck with grief one day and revived +the next. “The king is dead--long live the king!” was the cry that rang +through the nation, and almost before his late Majesty had been laid +beside the Queen in their splendid mausoleum, crowds came thronging from +all parts to the royal palace, eager to see the new monarch. + +They did see him,--the Prince Regent took care they should,--sitting on +the floor of the council chamber, sucking his thumb! And when one of +the gentlemen-in-waiting lifted him up and carried him--fancy carrying a +king!--to the chair of state, and put the crown on his head, he shook it +off again, it was so heavy and uncomfortable. Sliding down to the foot +of the throne he began playing with the golden lions that supported it, +stroking their paws and putting his tiny fingers into their eyes, and +laughing--laughing as if he had at last found something to amuse him. + +“There's a fine king for you!” said the first lord-in-waiting, a friend +of the Prince Regent's (the Crown-Prince that used to be, who, in the +deepest mourning, stood silently beside the throne of his young nephew. +He was a handsome man, very grand and clever-looking). “What a king! who +can never stand to receive his subjects, never walk in processions, who +to the last day of his life will have to be carried about like a baby. +Very unfortunate!” + +“Exceedingly unfortunate,” repeated the second lord. “It is always bad +for a nation when its king is a child; but such a child--a permanent +cripple, if not worse.” + +“Let us hope not worse,” said the first lord in a very hopeless tone, +and looking toward the Regent, who stood erect and pretended to hear +nothing. “I have heard that these sort of children with very large +heads, and great broad fore-heads and staring eyes, are--well, well, let +us hope for the best and be prepared for the worst. In the meantime----” + +“I swear,” said the Crown-Prince, coming forward and kissing the hilt of +his sword--“I swear to perform my duties as Regent, to take all care of +his Royal Highness--his Majesty, I mean,” with a grand bow to the little +child, who laughed innocently back again. “And I will do my humble +best to govern the country. Still, if the country has the slightest +objection----” + +But the Crown-Prince being generalissimo, having the whole army at his +beck and call, so that he could have begun a civil war in no time, the +country had, of course, not the slightest objection. + +So the King and Queen slept together in peace, and Prince Dolor reigned +over the land--that is, his uncle did; and everybody said what a +fortunate thing it was for the poor little Prince to have such a clever +uncle to take care of him. + +All things went on as usual; indeed, after the Regent had brought his +wife and her seven sons, and established them in the palace, rather +better than usual. For they gave such splendid entertainments and made +the capital so lively that trade revived, and the country was said to be +more flourishing than it had been for a century. Whenever the Regent +and his sons appeared, they were received with shouts: “Long live the +Crown-Prince!” “Long live the royal family!” And, in truth, they were +very fine children, the whole seven of them, and made a great show +when they rode out together on seven beautiful horses, one height above +another, down to the youngest, on his tiny black pony, no bigger than a +large dog. + +As for the other child, his Royal Highness Prince Dolor,--for somehow +people soon ceased to call him his Majesty, which seemed such a +ridiculous title for a poor little fellow, a helpless cripple,--with +only head and trunk, and no legs to speak of,--he was seen very seldom +by anybody. + +Sometimes people daring enough to peer over the high wall of the palace +garden noticed there, carried in a footman's arms, or drawn in a chair, +or left to play on the grass, often with nobody to mind him, a pretty +little boy, with a bright, intelligent face and large, melancholy +eyes--no, not exactly melancholy, for they were his mother's, and she +was by no means sad-minded, but thoughtful and dreamy. They rather +perplexed people, those childish eyes; they were so exceedingly innocent +and yet so penetrating. If anybody did a wrong thing--told a lie, for +instance they would turn round with such a grave, silent surprise the +child never talked much--that every naughty person in the palace was +rather afraid of Prince Dolor. + +He could not help it, and perhaps he did not even know it, being no +better a child than many other children, but there was something +about him which made bad people sorry, and grumbling people ashamed of +themselves, and ill-natured people gentle and kind. + +I suppose because they were touched to see a poor little fellow who +did not in the least know what had befallen him or what lay before him, +living his baby life as happy as the day is long. Thus, whether or not +he was good himself, the sight of him and his affliction made other +people good, and, above all, made everybody love him--so much so, that +his uncle the Regent began to feel a little uncomfortable. + +Now, I have nothing to say against uncles in general. They are usually +very excellent people, and very convenient to little boys and girls. +Even the “cruel uncle” of the “Babes in the Wood” I believe to be quite +an exceptional character. And this “cruel uncle” of whom I am telling +was, I hope, an exception, too. + +He did not mean to be cruel. If anybody had called him so, he would +have resented it extremely: he would have said that what he did was done +entirely for the good of the country. But he was a man who had always +been accustomed to consider himself first and foremost, believing that +whatever he wanted was sure to be right, and therefore he ought to have +it. So he tried to get it, and got it too, as people like him very often +do. Whether they enjoy it when they have it is another question. + +Therefore he went one day to the council chamber, determined on making +a speech, and informing the ministers and the country at large that the +young King was in failing health, and that it would be advisable to send +him for a time to the Beautiful Mountains. Whether he really meant to +do this, or whether it occurred to him afterward that there would be an +easier way of attaining his great desire, the crown of Nomansland, is a +point which I cannot decide. + +But soon after, when he had obtained an order in council to send the +King away, which was done in great state, with a guard of honor composed +of two whole regiments of soldiers,--the nation learned, without much +surprise, that the poor little Prince--nobody ever called him king +now--had gone a much longer journey than to the Beautiful Mountains. + +He had fallen ill on the road and died within a few hours; at least so +declared the physician in attendance and the nurse who had been sent +to take care of him. They brought his coffin back in great state, and +buried it in the mausoleum with his parents. + +So Prince Dolor was seen no more. The country went into deep mourning +for him, and then forgot him, and his uncle reigned in his stead. That +illustrious personage accepted his crown with great decorum, and wore it +with great dignity to the last. But whether he enjoyed it or not there +is no evidence to show. + + + +CHAPTER III + +And what of the little lame Prince, whom everybody seemed so easily to +have forgotten? + +Not everybody. There were a few kind souls, mothers of families, who had +heard his sad story, and some servants about the palace, who had been +familiar with his sweet ways--these many a time sighed and said, “Poor +Prince Dolor!” Or, looking at the Beautiful Mountains, which were +visible all over Nomansland, though few people ever visited them, “Well, +perhaps his Royal Highness is better where he is than even there.” + +They did not know--indeed, hardly anybody did know--that beyond the +mountains, between them and the sea, lay a tract of country, barren, +level, bare, except for short, stunted grass, and here and there a patch +of tiny flowers. Not a bush--not a tree not a resting place for bird or +beast was in that dreary plain. In summer the sunshine fell upon it hour +after hour with a blinding glare; in winter the winds and rains swept +over it unhindered, and the snow came down steadily, noiselessly, +covering it from end to end in one great white sheet, which lay for days +and weeks unmarked by a single footprint. + +Not a pleasant place to live in--and nobody did live there, apparently. +The only sign that human creatures had ever been near the spot was one +large round tower which rose up in the center of the plain, and might +be seen all over it--if there had been anybody to see, which there never +was. Rose right up out of the ground, as if it had grown of itself, like +a mushroom. But it was not at all mushroom-like; on the contrary, it was +very solidly built. In form it resembled the Irish round towers, which +have puzzled people for so long, nobody being able to find out when, +or by whom, or for what purpose they were made; seemingly for no use +at all, like this tower. It was circular, of very firm brickwork, with +neither doors nor windows, until near the top, when you could perceive +some slits in the wall through which one might possibly creep in or look +out. Its height was nearly a hundred feet, and it had a battlemented +parapet showing sharp against the sky. + +As the plain was quite desolate--almost like a desert, only without +sand, and led to nowhere except the still more desolate seacoast--nobody +ever crossed it. Whatever mystery there was about the tower, it and the +sky and the plain kept their secret to themselves. + +It was a very great secret indeed,--a state secret,--which none but so +clever a man as the present King of Nomansland would ever have thought +of. How he carried it out, undiscovered, I cannot tell. People said, +long afterward, that it was by means of a gang of condemned criminals, +who were set to work, and executed immediately after they had done, so +that nobody knew anything, or in the least suspected the real fact. + +And what was the fact? Why, that this tower, which seemed a mere mass +of masonry, utterly forsaken and uninhabited, was not so at all. Within +twenty feet of the top some ingenious architect had planned a perfect +little house, divided into four rooms--as by drawing a cross within a +circle you will see might easily be done. By making skylights, and a +few slits in the walls for windows, and raising a peaked roof which was +hidden by the parapet, here was a dwelling complete, eighty feet from +the ground, and as inaccessible as a rook's nest on the top of a tree. + +A charming place to live in! if you once got up there,--and never wanted +to come down again. + +Inside--though nobody could have looked inside except a bird, and hardly +even a bird flew past that lonely tower--inside it was furnished with +all the comfort and elegance imaginable; with lots of books and toys, +and everything that the heart of a child could desire. For its only +inhabitant, except a nurse of course, was a poor solitary child. + +One winter night, when all the plain was white with moonlight, there was +seen crossing it a great tall black horse, ridden by a man also big and +equally black, carrying before him on the saddle a woman and a child. +The woman--she had a sad, fierce look, and no wonder, for she was a +criminal under sentence of death, but her sentence had been changed to +almost as severe a punishment. She was to inhabit the lonely tower +with the child, and was allowed to live as long as the child lived--no +longer. This in order that she might take the utmost care of him; for +those who put him there were equally afraid of his dying and of his +living. + +Yet he was only a little gentle boy, with a sweet, sleepy smile--he had +been very tired with his long journey--and clinging arms, which held +tight to the man's neck, for he was rather frightened, and the face, +black as it was, looked kindly at him. And he was very helpless, with +his poor, small shriveled legs, which could neither stand nor run +away--for the little forlorn boy was Prince Dolor. + +He had not been dead at all--or buried either. His grand funeral had +been a mere pretense: a wax figure having been put in his place, while +he himself was spirited away under charge of these two, the condemned +woman and the black man. The latter was deaf and dumb, so could neither +tell nor repeat anything. + +When they reached the foot of the tower, there was light enough to see +a huge chain dangling from the parapet, but dangling only halfway. The +deaf-mute took from his saddle-wallet a sort of ladder, arranged in +pieces like a puzzle, fitted it together, and lifted it up to meet the +chain. Then he mounted to the top of the tower, and slung from it a sort +of chair, in which the woman and the child placed themselves and were +drawn up, never to come down again as long as they lived. Leaving them +there, the man descended the ladder, took it to pieces again and packed +it in his pack, mounted the horse and disappeared across the plain. + +Every month they used to watch for him, appearing like a speck in the +distance. He fastened his horse to the foot of the tower, and climbed +it, as before, laden with provisions and many other things. He always +saw the Prince, so as to make sure that the child was alive and well, +and then went away until the following month. + +While his first childhood lasted Prince Dolor was happy enough. He +had every luxury that even a prince could need, and the one thing +wanting,--love,--never having known, he did not miss. His nurse was very +kind to him though she was a wicked woman. But either she had not been +quite so wicked as people said, or she grew better through being shut up +continually with a little innocent child who was dependent upon her for +every comfort and pleasure of his life. + +It was not an unhappy life. There was nobody to tease or ill-use him, +and he was never ill. He played about from room to room--there were four +rooms, parlor, kitchen, his nurse's bedroom, and his own; learned to +crawl like a fly, and to jump like a frog, and to run about on all-fours +almost as fast as a puppy. In fact, he was very much like a puppy or +a kitten, as thoughtless and as merry--scarcely ever cross, though +sometimes a little weary. + +As he grew older, he occasionally liked to be quiet for a while, and +then he would sit at the slits of windows--which were, however, much +bigger than they looked from the bottom of the tower--and watch the +sky above and the ground below, with the storms sweeping over and the +sunshine coming and going, and the shadows of the clouds running races +across the blank plain. + +By and by he began to learn lessons--not that his nurse had been ordered +to teach him, but she did it partly to amuse herself. She was not a +stupid woman, and Prince Dolor was by no means a stupid boy; so they got +on very well, and his continual entreaty, “What can I do? what can you +find me to do?” was stopped, at least for an hour or two in the day. + +It was a dull life, but he had never known any other; anyhow, he +remembered no other, and he did not pity himself at all. Not for a long +time, till he grew quite a big little boy, and could read quite easily. +Then he suddenly took to books, which the deaf-mute brought him from +time to time--books which, not being acquainted with the literature of +Nomansland, I cannot describe, but no doubt they were very interesting; +and they informed him of everything in the outside world, and filled him +with an intense longing to see it. + +From this time a change came over the boy. He began to look sad and +thin, and to shut himself up for hours without speaking. For his nurse +hardly spoke, and whatever questions he asked beyond their ordinary +daily life she never answered. She had, indeed, been forbidden, on pain +of death, to tell him anything about himself, who he was, or what he +might have been. + +He knew he was Prince Dolor, because she always addressed him as “My +Prince” and “Your Royal Highness,” but what a prince was he had not +the least idea. He had no idea of anything in the world, except what he +found in his books. + +He sat one day surrounded by them, having built them up round him like +a little castle wall. He had been reading them half the day, but feeling +all the while that to read about things which you never can see is like +hearing about a beautiful dinner while you are starving. For almost the +first time in his life he grew melancholy; his hands fell on his lap; he +sat gazing out of the window-slit upon the view outside--the view he +had looked at every day of his life, and might look at for endless days +more. + +Not a very cheerful view,--just the plain and the sky,--but he liked it. +He used to think, if he could only fly out of that window, up to the sky +or down to the plain, how nice it would be! Perhaps when he died--his +nurse had told him once in anger that he would never leave the tower +till he died--he might be able to do this. Not that he understood much +what dying meant, but it must be a change, and any change seemed to him +a blessing. + +“And I wish I had somebody to tell me all about it--about that and many +other things; somebody that would be fond of me, like my poor white +kitten.” + +Here the tears came into his eyes, for the boy's one friend, the +one interest of his life, had been a little white kitten, which the +deaf-mute, kindly smiling, once took out of his pocket and gave him--the +only living creature Prince Dolor had ever seen. + +For four weeks it was his constant plaything and companion, till one +moonlight night it took a fancy for wandering, climbed on to the parapet +of the tower, dropped over and disappeared. It was not killed, he +hoped, for cats have nine lives; indeed, he almost fancied he saw it +pick itself up and scamper away; but he never caught sight of it more. + +“Yes, I wish I had something better than a kitten--a person, a real +live person, who would be fond of me and kind to me. Oh, I want +somebody--dreadfully, dreadfully!” + +As he spoke, there sounded behind him a slight tap-tap-tap, as of a +stick or a cane, and twisting himself round, he saw--what do you think +he saw? + +Nothing either frightening or ugly, but still exceedingly curious. A +little woman, no bigger than he might himself have been had his legs +grown like those of other children; but she was not a child--she was an +old woman. Her hair was gray, and her dress was gray, and there was a +gray shadow over her wherever she moved. But she had the sweetest smile, +the prettiest hands, and when she spoke it was in the softest voice +imaginable. + +“My dear little boy,”--and dropping her cane, the only bright and rich +thing about her, she laid those two tiny hands on his shoulders,--“my +own little boy, I could not come to you until you had said you wanted +me; but now you do want me, here I am.” + +“And you are very welcome, madam,” replied the Prince, trying to speak +politely, as princes always did in books; “and I am exceedingly obliged +to you. May I ask who you are? Perhaps my mother?” For he knew that +little boys usually had a mother, and had occasionally wondered what had +become of his own. + +“No,” said the visitor, with a tender, half-sad smile, putting back the +hair from his forehead, and looking right into his eyes--“no, I am not +your mother, though she was a dear friend of mine; and you are as like +her as ever you can be.” + +“Will you tell her to come and see me, then?” + +“She cannot; but I dare say she knows all about you. And she loves you +very much--and so do I; and I want to help you all I can, my poor little +boy.” + +“Why do you call me poor?” asked Prince Dolor, in surprise. + +The little old woman glanced down on his legs and feet, which he did not +know were different from those of other children, and then at his sweet, +bright face, which, though he knew not that either, was exceedingly +different from many children's faces, which are often so fretful, cross, +sullen. Looking at him, instead of sighing, she smiled. “I beg your +pardon, my Prince,” said she. + +“Yes, I am a prince, and my name is Dolor; will you tell me yours, +madam?” + +The little old woman laughed like a chime of silver bells. + +“I have not got a name--or, rather, I have so many names that I don't +know which to choose. However, it was I who gave you yours, and you will +belong to me all your days. I am your godmother.” + +“Hurrah!” cried the little Prince; “I am glad I belong to you, for I +like you very much. Will you come and play with me?” + +So they sat down together and played. By and by they began to talk. + +“Are you very dull here?” asked the little old woman. + +“Not particularly, thank you, godmother. I have plenty to eat and drink, +and my lessons to do, and my books to read--lots of books.” + +“And you want nothing?” + +“Nothing. Yes--perhaps----If you please, godmother, could you bring me +just one more thing?” + +“What sort of thing!” + +“A little boy to play with.” + +The old woman looked very sad. “Just the thing, alas I which I cannot +give you. My child, I cannot alter your lot in any way, but I can help +you to bear it.” + +“Thank you. But why do you talk of bearing it? I have nothing to bear.” + +“My poor little man!” said the old woman in the very tenderest tone of +her tender voice. “Kiss me!” + +“What is kissing?” asked the wondering child. + +His godmother took him in her arms and embraced him many times. By and +by he kissed her back again--at first awkwardly and shyly, then with all +the strength of his warm little heart. + +“You are better to cuddle than even my white kitten, I think. Promise me +that you will never go away.” + +“I must; but I will leave a present behind me,--something as good as +myself to amuse you,--something that will take you wherever you want to +go, and show you all that you wish to see.” + +“What is it?” + +“A traveling-cloak.” + +The Prince's countenance fell. “I don't want a cloak, for I never go +out. Sometimes nurse hoists me on to the roof, and carries me round by +the parapet; but that is all. I can't walk, you know, as she does.” + +“The more reason why you should ride; and besides, this +traveling-cloak----” + +“Hush!--she's coming.” + +There sounded outside the room door a heavy step and a grumpy voice, and +a rattle of plates and dishes. + +“It's my nurse, and she is bringing my dinner; but I don't want dinner +at all--I only want you. Will her coming drive you away, godmother?” + +“Perhaps; but only for a little while. Never mind; all the bolts and +bars in the world couldn't keep me out. I'd fly in at the window, or +down through the chimney. Only wish for me, and I come.” + +“Thank you,” said Prince Dolor, but almost in a whisper, for he was +very uneasy at what might happen next. His nurse and his godmother--what +would they say to one another? how would they look at one another?--two +such different faces: one harsh-lined, sullen, cross, and sad; the other +sweet and bright and calm as a summer evening before the dark begins. + +When the door was flung open, Prince Dolor shut his eyes, trembling all +over; opening them again, he saw he need fear nothing--his lovely old +godmother had melted away just like the rainbow out of the sky, as he +had watched it many a time. Nobody but his nurse was in the room. + +“What a muddle your Royal Highness is sitting in,” said she sharply. +“Such a heap of untidy books; and what's this rubbish?” knocking a +little bundle that lay beside them. + +“Oh, nothing, nothing--give it me!” cried the Prince, and, darting after +it, he hid it under his pinafore, and then pushed it quickly into his +pocket. Rubbish as it was, it was left in the place where she sat, and +might be something belonging to her--his dear, kind godmother, whom +already he loved with all his lonely, tender, passionate heart. + +It was, though he did not know this, his wonderful traveling-cloak. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +And what of the traveling-cloak? What sort of cloak was it, and what A +good did it do the Prince? + +Stay, and I'll tell you all about it. Outside it was the +commonest-looking bundle imaginable--shabby and small; and the instant +Prince Dolor touched it, it grew smaller still, dwindling down till he +could put it in his trousers pocket, like a handkerchief rolled up into +a ball. He did this at once, for fear his nurse should see it, and kept +it there all day--all night, too. Till after his next morning's lessons +he had no opportunity of examining his treasure. + +When he did, it seemed no treasure at all; but a mere piece of +cloth--circular in form, dark green in color--that is, if it had any +color at all, being so worn and shabby, though not dirty. It had a split +cut to the center, forming a round hole for the neck--and that was all +its shape; the shape, in fact, of those cloaks which in South America +are called ponchos--very simple, but most graceful and convenient. + +Prince Dolor had never seen anything like it. In spite of his +disappointment, he examined it curiously; spread it out on the door, +then arranged it on his shoulders. It felt very warm and comfortable; +but it was so exceedingly shabby--the only shabby thing that the Prince +had ever seen in his life. + +“And what use will it be to me?” said he sadly. “I have no need of +outdoor clothes, as I never go out. Why was this given me, I wonder? and +what in the world am I to do with it? She must be a rather funny person, +this dear godmother of mine.” + +Nevertheless, because she was his godmother, and had given him the +cloak, he folded it carefully and put it away, poor and shabby as it +was, hiding it in a safe corner of his top cupboard, which his nurse +never meddled with. He did not want her to find it, or to laugh at it or +at his godmother--as he felt sure she would, if she knew all. + +There it lay, and by and by he forgot all about it; nay, I am sorry to +say that, being but a child, and not seeing her again, he almost forgot +his sweet old godmother, or thought of her only as he did of the angels +or fairies that he read of in his books, and of her visit as if it had +been a mere dream of the night. + +There were times, certainly, when he recalled her: of early mornings, +like that morning when she appeared beside him, and late evenings, when +the gray twilight reminded him of the color of her hair and her pretty +soft garments; above all, when, waking in the middle of the night, with +the stars peering in at his window, or the moonlight shining across his +little bed, he would not have been surprised to see her standing beside +it, looking at him with those beautiful tender eyes, which seemed to +have a pleasantness and comfort in them different from anything he had +ever known. + +But she never came, and gradually she slipped out of his memory--only +a boy's memory, after all; until something happened which made him +remember her, and want her as he had never wanted anything before. + +Prince Dolor fell ill. He caught--his nurse could not tell how--a +complaint common to the people of Nomansland, called the doldrums, as +unpleasant as measles or any other of our complaints; and it made him +restless, cross, and disagreeable. Even when a little better, he was too +weak to enjoy anything, but lay all day long on his sofa, fidgeting his +nurse extremely--while, in her intense terror lest he might die, she +fidgeted him still more. At last, seeing he really was getting well, she +left him to himself--which he was most glad of, in spite of his dullness +and dreariness. There he lay, alone, quite alone. + +Now and then an irritable fit came over him, in which he longed to get +up and do something, or to go somewhere--would have liked to imitate his +white kitten--jump down from the tower and run away, taking the chance +of whatever might happen. + +Only one thing, alas! was likely to happen; for the kitten, he +remembered, had four active legs, while he---- + +“I wonder what my godmother meant when she looked at my legs and sighed +so bitterly? I wonder why I can't walk straight and steady like my nurse +only I wouldn't like to have her great, noisy, clumping shoes. Still it +would be very nice to move about quickly--perhaps to fly, like a bird, +like that string of birds I saw the other day skimming across the sky, +one after the other.” + +These were the passage-birds--the only living creatures that ever +crossed the lonely plain; and he had been much interested in them, +wonder-ing whence they came and whither they were going. + +“How nice it must be to be a bird! If legs are no good, why cannot one +have wings? People have wings when they die--perhaps; I wish I were +dead, that I do. I am so tired, so tired; and nobody cares for me. +Nobody ever did care for me, except perhaps my godmother. Godmother, +dear, have you quite forsaken me?” + +He stretched himself wearily, gathered himself up, and dropped his head +upon his hands; as he did so, he felt somebody kiss him at the back +of his neck, and, turning, found that he was resting, not on the sofa +pillows, but on a warm shoulder--that of the little old woman clothed in +gray. + +How glad he was to see her! How he looked into her kind eyes and felt +her hands, to see if she were all real and alive! then put both his arms +round her neck, and kissed her as if he would never have done kissing. + +“Stop, stop!” cried she, pretending to be smothered. “I see you have +not forgotten my teachings. Kissing is a good thing--in moderation. Only +just let me have breath to speak one word.” + +“A dozen!” he said. + +“Well, then, tell me all that has happened to you since I saw you--or, +rather, since you saw me, which is quite a different thing.” + +“Nothing has happened--nothing ever does happen to me,” answered the +Prince dolefully. + +“And are you very dull, my boy?” + +“So dull that I was just thinking whether I could not jump down to the +bottom of the tower, like my white kitten.” + +“Don't do that, not being a white kitten.” + +“I wish I were--I wish I were anything but what I am.” + +“And you can't make yourself any different, nor can I do it either. You +must be content to stay just what you are.” + +The little old woman said this--very firmly, but gently, too--with her +arms round his neck and her lips on his forehead. It was the first +time the boy had ever heard any one talk like this, and he looked up in +surprise--but not in pain, for her sweet manner softened the hardness of +her words. + +“Now, my Prince,--for you are a prince, and must behave as such,--let us +see what we can do; how much I can do for you, or show you how to do for +yourself. Where is your traveling-cloak?” + +Prince Dolor blushed extremely. “I--I put it away in the cupboard; I +suppose it is there still.” + +“You have never used it; you dislike it?” + +He hesitated, no; wishing to be impolite. “Don't you think it's--just a +little old and shabby for a prince?” + +The old woman laughed--long and loud, though very sweetly. + +“Prince, indeed! Why, if all the princes in the world craved for it, +they couldn't get it, unless I gave it them. Old and shabby! It's the +most valuable thing imaginable! Very few ever have it; but I thought +I would give it to you, because--because you are different from other +people.” + +“Am I?” said the Prince, and looked first with curiosity, then with a +sort of anxiety, into his godmother's face, which was sad and grave, +with slow tears beginning to steal down. + +She touched his poor little legs. “These are not like those of other +little boys.” + +“Indeed!--my nurse never told me that.” + +“Very likely not. But it is time you were told; and I tell you, because +I love you.” + +“Tell me what, dear godmother?” + +“That you will never be able to walk or run or jump or play--that your +life will be quite different from most people's lives; but it may be a +very happy life for all that. Do not be afraid.” + +“I am not afraid,” said the boy; but he turned very pale, and his lips +began to quiver, though he did not actually cry--he was too old for +that, and, perhaps, too proud. + +Though not wholly comprehending, he began dimly to guess what his +godmother meant. He had never seen any real live boys, but he had seen +pictures of them running and jumping; which he had admired and tried +hard to imitate but always failed. Now he began to understand why he +failed, and that he always should fail--that, in fact, he was not like +other little boys; and it was of no use his wishing to do as they did, +and play as they played, even if he had had them to play with. His was a +separate life, in which he must find out new work and new pleasures for +himself. + +The sense of THE INEVITABLE, as grown-up people call it--that we cannot +have things as we want them to be, but as they are, and that we must +learn to bear them and make the best of them--this lesson, which +everybody has to learn soon or late--came, alas! sadly soon, to the poor +boy. He fought against it for a while, and then, quite overcome, turned +and sobbed bitterly in his godmother's arms. + +She comforted him--I do not know how, except that love always comforts; +and then she whispered to him, in her sweet, strong, cheerful voice: +“Never mind!” + +“No, I don't think I do mind--that is, I WON'T mind,” replied he, +catching the courage of her tone and speaking like a man, though he was +still such a mere boy. + +“That is right, my Prince!--that is being like a prince. Now we know +exactly where we are; let us put our shoulders to the wheel and----” + +“We are in Hopeless Tower” (this was its name, if it had a name), “and +there is no wheel to put our shoulders to,” said the child sadly. + +“You little matter-of-fact goose! Well for you that you have a godmother +called----” + +“What?” he eagerly asked. + +“Stuff-and-nonsense.” + +“Stuff-and-nonsense! What a funny name!” + +“Some people give it me, but they are not my most intimate friends. +These call me--never mind what,” added the old woman, with a soft +twinkle in her eyes. “So as you know me, and know me well, you may give +me any name you please; it doesn't matter. But I am your godmother, +child. I have few godchildren; those I have love me dearly, and find me +the greatest blessing in all the world.” + +“I can well believe it,” cried the little lame Prince, and forgot +his troubles in looking at her--as her figure dilated, her eyes grew +lustrous as stars, her very raiment brightened, and the whole room +seemed filled with her beautiful and beneficent presence like light. + +He could have looked at her forever--half in love, half in awe; but she +suddenly dwindled down into the little old woman all in gray, and, with +a malicious twinkle in her eyes, asked for the traveling-cloak. + +“Bring it out of the rubbish cupboard, and shake the dust off it, +quick!” said she to Prince Dolor, who hung his head, rather ashamed. +“Spread it out on the floor, and wait till the split closes and +the edges turn up like a rim all round. Then go and open the +skylight,--mind, I say OPEN THE SKYLIGHT,--set yourself down in the +middle of it, like a frog on a water-lily leaf; say 'Abracadabra, dum +dum dum,' and--see what will happen!” + +The Prince burst into a fit of laughing. It all seemed so exceedingly +silly; he wondered that a wise old woman like his godmother should talk +such nonsense. + +“Stuff-and-nonsense, you mean,” said she, answering, to his great alarm, +his unspoken thoughts. “Did I not tell you some people called me by that +name? Never mind; it doesn't harm me.” + +And she laughed--her merry laugh--as child-like as if she were the +Prince's age instead of her own, whatever that might be. She certainly +was a most extraordinary old woman. + +“Believe me or not, it doesn't matter,” said she. “Here is the cloak: +when you want to go traveling on it, say 'Abracadabra, dum, dum, dum'; +when you want to come back again, say 'Abracadabra, tum tum ti.' That's +all; good-by.” + +A puff of most pleasant air passing by him, and making him feel for the +moment quite strong and well, was all the Prince was conscious of. His +most extraordinary godmother was gone. + +“Really now, how rosy your Royal Highness' cheeks have grown! You seem +to have got well already,” said the nurse, entering the room. + +“I think I have,” replied the Prince very gently--he felt gently and +kindly even to his grim nurse. “And now let me have my dinner, and go +you to your sewing as usual.” + +The instant she was gone, however, taking with her the plates and +dishes, which for the first time since his illness he had satisfactorily +cleared, Prince Dolor sprang down from his sofa, and with one or two +of his frog-like jumps reached the cupboard where he kept his toys, and +looked everywhere for his traveling-cloak. + +Alas! it was not there. + +While he was ill of the doldrums, his nurse, thinking it a good +opportunity for putting things to rights, had made a grand clearance of +all his “rubbish”--as she considered it: his beloved headless horses, +broken carts, sheep without feet, and birds without wings--all the +treasures of his baby days, which he could not bear to part with. Though +he seldom played with them now, he liked just to feel they were there. + +They were all gone and with them the traveling-cloak. He sat down on the +floor, looking at the empty shelves, so beautifully clean and tidy, then +burst out sobbing as if his heart would break. + +But quietly--always quietly. He never let his nurse hear him cry. She +only laughed at him, as he felt she would laugh now. + +“And it is all my own fault!” he cried. “I ought to have taken better +care of my godmother's gift. Oh, godmother, forgive me! I'll never be so +careless again. I don't know what the cloak is exactly, but I am sure +it is something precious. Help me to find it again. Oh, don't let it be +stolen from me--don't, please!” + +“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed a silvery voice. “Why, that traveling-cloak is +the one thing in the world which nobody can steal. It is of no use to +anybody except the owner. Open your eyes, my Prince, and see what you +shall see.” + +His dear old godmother, he thought, and turned eagerly round. But no; +he only beheld, lying in a corner of the room, all dust and cobwebs, his +precious traveling-cloak. + +Prince Dolor darted toward it, tumbling several times on the way, as +he often did tumble, poor boy! and pick himself up again, never +complaining. Snatching it to his breast, he hugged and kissed it, +cobwebs and all, as if it had been something alive. Then he began +unrolling it, wondering each minute what would happen. What did happen +was so curious that I must leave it for another chapter. + + + +CHAPTER V + +If any reader, big or little, should wonder whether there is a meaning +in this story deeper than that of an ordinary fairy tale, I will own +that there is. But I have hidden it so carefully that the smaller +people, and many larger folk, will never find it out, and meantime the +book may be read straight on, like “Cinderella,” or “Blue-Beard,” or +“Hop-o'my-Thumb,” for what interest it has, or what amusement it may +bring. + +Having said this, I return to Prince Dolor, that little lame boy whom +many may think so exceedingly to be pitied. But if you had seen him as +he sat patiently untying his wonderful cloak, which was done up in +a very tight and perplexing parcel, using skillfully his deft little +hands, and knitting his brows with firm determination, while his eyes +glistened with pleasure and energy and eager anticipation--if you had +beheld him thus, you might have changed your opinion. + +When we see people suffering or unfortunate, we feel very sorry for +them; but when we see them bravely bearing their sufferings and making +the best of their misfortunes, it is quite a different feeling. We +respect, we admire them. One can respect and admire even a little child. + +When Prince Dolor had patiently untied all the knots, a remarkable thing +happened. The cloak began to undo itself. Slowly unfolding, it laid +itself down on the carpet, as flat as if it had been ironed; the split +joined with a little sharp crick-crack, and the rim turned up all round +till it was breast-high; for meantime the cloak had grown and grown, and +become quite large enough for one person to sit in it as comfortable as +if in a boat. + +The Prince watched it rather anxiously; it was such an extraordinary, +not to say a frightening, thing. However, he was no coward, but a +thorough boy, who, if he had been like other boys, would doubtless have +grown up daring and adventurous--a soldier, a sailor, or the like. As +it was, he could only show his courage morally, not physically, by being +afraid of nothing, and by doing boldly all that it was in his narrow +powers to do. And I am not sure but that in this way he showed more real +valor than if he had had six pairs of proper legs. + +He said to himself: “What a goose I am! As if my dear godmother would +ever have given me anything to hurt me. Here goes!” + +So, with one of his active leaps, he sprang right into the middle of the +cloak, where he squatted down, wrapping his arms tight round his knees, +for they shook a little and his heart beat fast. But there he sat, +steady and silent, waiting for what might happen next. + +Nothing did happen, and he began to think nothing would, and to feel +rather disappointed, when he recollected the words he had been told to +repeat--“Abracadabra, dum dum dum!” + +He repeated them, laughing all the while, they seemed such nonsense. And +then--and then---- + +Now I don't expect anybody to believe what I am going to relate, though +a good many wise people have believed a good many sillier things. And as +seeing's believing, and I never saw it, I cannot be expected implicitly +to believe it myself, except in a sort of a way; and yet there is truth +in it--for some people. + +The cloak rose, slowly and steadily, at first only a few inches, then +gradually higher and higher, till it nearly touched the skylight. Prince +Dolor's head actually bumped against the glass, or would have done so +had he not crouched down, crying “Oh, please don't hurt me!” in a most +melancholy voice. + +Then he suddenly remembered his godmother's express command--“Open the +skylight!” + +Regaining his courage at once, without a moment's delay he lifted up +his head and began searching for the bolt--the cloak meanwhile remaining +perfectly still, balanced in the air. But the minute the window was +opened, out it sailed--right out into the clear, fresh air, with nothing +between it and the cloudless blue. + +Prince Dolor had never felt any such delicious sensation before. I can +understand it. Cannot you? Did you never think, in watching the rooks +going home singly or in pairs, soaring their way across the calm evening +sky till they vanish like black dots in the misty gray, how pleasant it +must feel to be up there, quite out of the noise and din of the world, +able to hear and see everything down below, yet troubled by nothing and +teased by no one--all alone, but perfectly content? + +Something like this was the happiness of the little lame Prince when he +got out of Hopeless Tower, and found himself for the first time in the +pure open air, with the sky above him and the earth below. + +True, there was nothing but earth and sky; no houses, no trees, no +rivers, mountains, seas--not a beast on the ground, or a bird in the +air. But to him even the level plain looked beautiful; and then there +was the glorious arch of the sky, with a little young moon sitting in +the west like a baby queen. And the evening breeze was so sweet and +fresh--it kissed him like his godmother's kisses; and by and by a few +stars came out--first two or three, and then quantities--quantities! so +that when he began to count them he was utterly bewildered. + +By this time, however, the cool breeze had become cold; the mist +gathered; and as he had, as he said, no outdoor clothes, poor Prince +Dolor was not very comfortable. The dews fell damp on his curls--he +began to shiver. + +“Perhaps I had better go home,” thought he. + +But how? For in his excitement the other words which his godmother +had told him to use had slipped his memory. They were only a little +different from the first, but in that slight difference all the +importance lay. As he repeated his “Abracadabra,” trying ever so +many other syllables after it, the cloak only went faster and faster, +skimming on through the dusky, empty air. + +The poor little Prince began to feel frightened. What if his wonderful +traveling-cloak should keep on thus traveling, perhaps to the world's +end, carrying with it a poor, tired, hungry boy, who, after all, was +beginning to think there was something very pleasant in supper and bed! + +“Dear godmother,” he cried pitifully, “do help me! Tell me just this +once and I'll never forget again.” + +Instantly the words came rushing into his head--“Abracadabra, tum +tum ti!” Was that it? Ah! yes--for the cloak began to turn slowly. He +repeated the charm again, more distinctly and firmly, when it gave a +gentle dip, like a nod of satisfaction, and immediately started back, as +fast as ever, in the direction of the tower. + +He reached the skylight, which he found exactly as he had left it, and +slipped in, cloak and all, as easily as he had got out. He had +scarcely reached the floor, and was still sitting in the middle of his +traveling-cloak,--like a frog on a water-lily leaf, as his godmother had +expressed it,--when he heard his nurse's voice outside. + +“Bless us! what has become of your Royal Highness all this time? To +sit stupidly here at the window till it is quite dark, and leave the +skylight open, too. Prince! what can you be thinking of? You are the +silliest boy I ever knew.” + +“Am I?” said he absently, and never heeding her crossness; for his only +anxiety was lest she might find out anything. + +She would have been a very clever person to have done so. The instant +Prince Dolor got off it, the cloak folded itself up into the tiniest +possible parcel, tied all its own knots, and rolled itself of its own +accord into the farthest and darkest corner of the room. If the nurse +had seen it, which she didn't, she would have taken it for a mere bundle +of rubbish not worth noticing. + +Shutting the skylight with an angry bang, she brought in the supper and +lit the candles with her usual unhappy expression of countenance. But +Prince Dolor hardly saw it; he only saw, hid in the corner where nobody +else would see it, his wonderful traveling-cloak. And though his supper +was not particularly nice, he ate it heartily, scarcely hearing a word +of his nurse's grumbling, which to-night seemed to have taken the place +of her sullen silence. + +“Poor woman!” he thought, when he paused a minute to listen and look at +her with those quiet, happy eyes, so like his mother's. “Poor woman! she +hasn't got a traveling-cloak!” + +And when he was left alone at last, and crept into his little bed, where +he lay awake a good while, watching what he called his “sky-garden,” all +planted with stars, like flowers, his chief thought was--“I must be up +very early to-morrow morning, and get my lessons done, and then I'll go +traveling all over the world on my beautiful cloak.” + +So next day he opened his eyes with the sun, and went with a good heart +to his lessons. They had hitherto been the chief amusement of his dull +life; now, I am afraid, he found them also a little dull. But he tried +to be good,--I don't say Prince Dolor always was good, but he generally +tried to be,--and when his mind went wandering after the dark, dusty +corner where lay his precious treasure, he resolutely called it back +again. + +“For,” he said, “how ashamed my godmother would be of me if I grew up a +stupid boy!” + +But the instant lessons were done, and he was alone in the empty room, +he crept across the floor, undid the shabby little bundle, his fingers +trembling with eagerness, climbed on the chair, and thence to the table, +so as to unbar the skylight,--he forgot nothing now,--said his magic +charm, and was away out of the window, as children say, “in a few +minutes less than no time.” + +Nobody missed him. He was accustomed to sit so quietly always that +his nurse, though only in the next room, perceived no difference. And +besides, she might have gone in and out a dozen times, and it would have +been just the same; she never could have found out his absence. + +For what do you think the clever godmother did? She took a quantity of +moonshine, or some equally convenient material, and made an image, which +she set on the window-sill reading, or by the table drawing, where it +looked so like Prince Dolor that any common observer would never have +guessed the deception; and even the boy would have been puzzled to know +which was the image and which was himself. + +And all this while the happy little fellow was away, floating in the air +on his magic cloak, and seeing all sorts of wonderful things--or they +seemed wonderful to him, who had hitherto seen nothing at all. + +First, there were the flowers that grew on the plain, which, whenever +the cloak came near enough, he strained his eyes to look at; they were +very tiny, but very beautiful--white saxifrage, and yellow lotus, and +ground-thistles, purple and bright, with many others the names of which +I do not know. No more did Prince Dolor, though he tried to find them +out by recalling any pictures he had seen of them. But he was too far +off; and though it was pleasant enough to admire them as brilliant +patches of color, still he would have liked to examine them all. He was, +as a little girl I know once said of a playfellow, “a very examining +boy.” + +“I wonder,” he thought, “whether I could see better through a pair of +glasses like those my nurse reads with, and takes such care of. How I +would take care of them, too, if I only had a pair!” + +Immediately he felt something queer and hard fixing itself to the bridge +of his nose. It was a pair of the prettiest gold spectacles ever seen; +and looking downward, he found that, though ever so high above the +ground, he could see every minute blade of grass, every tiny bud and +flower--nay, even the insects that walked over them. + +“Thank you, thank you!” he cried, in a gush of gratitude--to anybody or +everybody, but especially to his dear godmother, who he felt sure had +given him this new present. He amused himself with it for ever so long, +with his chin pressed on the rim of the cloak, gazing down upon the +grass, every square foot of which was a mine of wonders. + +Then, just to rest his eyes, he turned them up to the sky--the blue, +bright, empty sky, which he had looked at so often and seen nothing. + +Now surely there was something. A long, black, wavy line, moving on +in the distance, not by chance, as the clouds move apparently, but +deliberately, as if it were alive. He might have seen it before--he +almost thought he had; but then he could not tell what it was. Looking +at it through his spectacles, he discovered that it really was alive; +being a long string of birds, flying one after the other, their wings +moving steadily and their heads pointed in one direction, as steadily as +if each were a little ship, guided invisibly by an unerring helm. + +“They must be the passage-birds flying seaward!” cried the boy, who had +read a little about them, and had a great talent for putting two and +two together and finding out all he could. “Oh, how I should like to see +them quite close, and to know where they come from and whither they are +going! How I wish I knew everything in all the world!” + +A silly speech for even an “examining” little boy to make; because, as +we grow older, the more we know the more we find out there is to know. +And Prince Dolor blushed when he had said it, and hoped nobody had heard +him. + +Apparently somebody had, however; for the cloak gave a sudden bound +forward, and presently he found himself high in the air, in the very +middle of that band of aerial travelers, who had mo magic cloak to +travel on--nothing except their wings. Yet there they were, making their +fearless way through the sky. + +Prince Dolor looked at them as one after the other they glided past him; +and they looked at him--those pretty swallows, with their changing +necks and bright eyes--as if wondering to meet in mid-air such an +extraordinary sort of bird. + +“Oh, I wish I were going with you, you lovely creatures! I'm getting so +tired of this dull plain, and the dreary and lonely tower. I do so want +to see the world! Pretty swallows, dear swallows! tell me what it looks +like--the beautiful, wonderful world!” + +But the swallows flew past him--steadily, slowly pursuing their course +as if inside each little head had been a mariner's compass, to guide +them safe over land and sea, direct to the place where they wished to +go. + +The boy looked after them with envy. For a long time he followed with +his eyes the faint, wavy black line as it floated away, sometimes +changing its curves a little, but never deviating from its settled +course, till it vanished entirely out of sight. + +Then he settled himself down in the center of the cloak, feeling quite +sad and lonely. + +“I think I'll go home,” said he, and repeated his “Abracadabra, tum tum +ti!” with a rather heavy heart. The more he had, the more he wanted; +and it is not always one can have everything one wants--at least, at the +exact minute one craves for it; not even though one is a prince, and has +a powerful and beneficent godmother. + +He did not like to vex her by calling for her and telling her how +unhappy he was, in spite of all her goodness; so he just kept his +trouble to himself, went back to his lonely tower, and spent three days +in silent melancholy, without even attempting another journey on his +traveling-cloak. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The fourth day it happened that the deaf-mute paid his accustomed visit, +after which Prince Dolor's spirits rose. They always did when he got the +new books which, just to relieve his conscience, the King of Nomansland +regularly sent to his nephew; with many new toys also, though the latter +were disregarded now. + +“Toys, indeed! when I'm a big boy,” said the Prince, with disdain, +and would scarcely condescend to mount a rocking-horse which had +come, somehow or other,--I can't be expected to explain things very +exactly,--packed on the back of the other, the great black horse, which +stood and fed contentedly at the bottom of the tower. + +Prince Dolor leaned over and looked at it, and thought how grand it must +be to get upon its back--this grand live steed--and ride away, like the +pictures of knights. + +“Suppose I was a knight,” he said to himself; “then I should be obliged +to ride out and see the world.” + +But he kept all these thoughts to himself, and just sat still, devouring +his new books till he had come to the end of them all. It was a repast +not unlike the Barmecide's feast which you read of in the “Arabian +Nights,” which consisted of very elegant but empty dishes, or that +supper of Sancho Panza in “Don Quixote,” where, the minute the smoking +dishes came on the table, the physician waved his hand and they were all +taken away. + +Thus almost all the ordinary delights of boy-life had been taken away +from, or rather never given to this poor little prince. + +“I wonder,” he would sometimes think--“I wonder what it feels like to +be on the back of a horse, galloping away, or holding the reins in a +carriage, and tearing across the country, or jumping a ditch, or running +a race, such as I read of or see in pictures. What a lot of things there +are that I should like to do! But first I should like to go and see the +world. I'll try.” + +Apparently it was his godmother's plan always to let him try, and try +hard, before he gained anything. This day the knots that tied up his +traveling-cloak were more than usually troublesome, and he was a +full half-hour before he got out into the open air, and found himself +floating merrily over the top of the tower. + +Hitherto, in all his journeys, he had never let himself go out of sight +of home, for the dreary building, after all, was home--he remembered +no other; but now he felt sick of the very look of his tower, with its +round smooth walls and level battlements. + +“Off we go!” cried he, when the cloak stirred itself with a slight, slow +motion, as if waiting his orders. “Anywhere anywhere, so that I am away +from here, and out into the world.” + +As he spoke, the cloak, as if seized suddenly with a new idea, bounded +forward and went skimming through the air, faster than the very fastest +railway train. + +“Gee-up! gee-up!” cried Prince Dolor in great excitement. “This is as +good as riding a race.” + +And he patted the cloak as if it had been a horse--that is, in the way +he supposed horses ought to be patted--and tossed his head back to meet +the fresh breeze, and pulled his coat collar up and his hat down as he +felt the wind grow keener and colder--colder than anything he had ever +known. + +“What does it matter, though?” said he. “I'm a boy, and boys ought not +to mind anything.” + +Still, for all his good-will, by and by, he began to shiver exceedingly; +also, he had come away without his dinner, and he grew frightfully +hungry. And to add to everything, the sunshiny day changed into rain, +and being high up, in the very midst of the clouds, he got soaked +through and through in a very few minutes. + +“Shall I turn back?” meditated he. “Suppose I say 'Abracadabra?'” + +Here he stopped, for already the cloak gave an obedient lurch, as if it +were expecting to be sent home immediately. + +“No--I can't--I can't go back! I must go forward and see the world. But +oh! if I had but the shabbiest old rug to shelter me from the rain, or +the driest morsel of bread and cheese, just to keep me from starving! +Still, I don't much mind; I'm a prince, and ought to be able to stand +anything. Hold on, cloak, we'll make the best of it.” + +It was a most curious circumstance, but no sooner had he said this than +he felt stealing over his knees something warm and soft; in fact, a most +beautiful bearskin, which folded itself round him quite naturally, and +cuddled him up as closely as if he had been the cub of the kind old +mother-bear that once owned it. Then feeling in his pocket, which +suddenly stuck out in a marvelous way, he found, not exactly bread and +cheese, nor even sandwiches, but a packet of the most delicious food +he had ever tasted. It was not meat, nor pudding, but a combination of +both, and it served him excellently for both. He ate his dinner with the +greatest gusto imaginable, till he grew so thirsty he did not know what +to do. + +“Couldn't I have just one drop of water, if it didn't trouble you too +much, kindest of godmothers?” + +For he really thought this want was beyond her power to supply. All the +water which supplied Hopeless Tower was pumped up with difficulty from +a deep artesian well--there were such things known in Nomansland--which +had been made at the foot of it. But around, for miles upon miles, the +desolate plain was perfectly dry. And above it, high in the air, how +could he expect to find a well, or to get even a drop of water? + +He forgot one thing--the rain. While he spoke, it came on in another +wild burst, as if the clouds had poured themselves out in a passion +of crying, wetting him certainly, but leaving behind, in a large glass +vessel which he had never noticed before, enough water to quench the +thirst of two or three boys at least. And it was so fresh, so pure--as +water from the clouds always is when it does not catch the soot from +city chimneys and other defilements--that he drank it, every drop, with +the greatest delight and content. + +Also, as soon as it was empty the rain filled it again, so that he was +able to wash his face and hands and refresh himself exceedingly. Then +the sun came out and dried him in no time. After that he curled himself +up under the bear-skin rug, and though he determined to be the most +wide-awake boy imaginable, being so exceedingly snug and warm and +comfortable, Prince Dolor condescended to shut his eyes just for one +minute. The next minute he was sound asleep. + +When he awoke, he found himself floating over a country quite unlike +anything he had ever seen before. + +Yet it was nothing but what most of you children see every day and never +notice it--a pretty country landscape, like England, Scotland, +France, or any other land you choose to name. It had no particular +features--nothing in it grand or lovely--was simply pretty, nothing +more; yet to Prince Dolor, who had never gone beyond his lonely tower +and level plain, it appeared the most charming sight imaginable. + +First, there was a river. It came tumbling down the hillside, frothing +and foaming, playing at hide-and-seek among the rocks, then bursting +out in noisy fun like a child, to bury itself in deep, still pools. +Afterward it went steadily on for a while, like a good grown-up person, +till it came to another big rock, where it misbehaved itself extremely. +It turned into a cataract, and went tumbling over and over, after a +fashion that made the prince--who had never seen water before, except in +his bath or his drinking-cup--clap his hands with delight. + +“It is so active, so alive! I like things active and alive!” cried he, +and watched it shimmering and dancing, whirling and leaping, till, after +a few windings and vagaries, it settled into a respectable stream. After +that it went along, deep and quiet, but flowing steadily on, till it +reached a large lake, into which it slipped and so ended its course. + +All this the boy saw, either with his own naked eye or through his gold +spectacles. He saw also as in a picture, beautiful but silent, many +other things which struck him with wonder, especially a grove of trees. + +Only think, to have lived to his age (which he himself did not know, as +he did not know his own birthday) and never to have seen trees! As +he floated over these oaks, they seemed to him--trunk, branches, and +leaves--the most curious sight imaginable. + +“If I could only get nearer, so as to touch them,” said he, and +immediately the obedient cloak ducked down; Prince Dolor made a snatch +at the topmost twig of the tallest tree, and caught a bunch of leaves in +his hand. + +Just a bunch of green leaves--such as we see in myriads; watching them +bud, grow, fall, and then kicking them along on the ground as if they +were worth nothing. Yet how wonderful they are--every one of them a +little different. I don't suppose you could ever find two leaves exactly +alike in form, color, and size--no more than you could find two faces +alike, or two characters exactly the same. The plan of this world is +infinite similarity and yet infinite variety. + +Prince Dolor examined his leaves with the greatest curiosity--and also a +little caterpillar that he found walking over one of them. He coaxed +it to take an additional walk over his finger, which it did with the +greatest dignity and decorum, as if it, Mr. Caterpillar, were the most +important individual in existence. It amused him for a long time; and +when a sudden gust of wind blew it overboard, leaves and all, he felt +quite disconsolate. + +“Still there must be many live creatures in the world besides +caterpillars. I should like to see a few of them.” + +The cloak gave a little dip down, as if to say “All right, my Prince,” + and bore him across the oak forest to a long fertile valley--called in +Scotland a strath and in England a weald, but what they call it in +the tongue of Nomansland I do not know. It was made up of cornfields, +pasturefields, lanes, hedges, brooks, and ponds. Also, in it were what +the prince desired to see--a quantity of living creatures, wild and +tame. Cows and horses, lambs and sheep, fed in the meadows; pigs and +fowls walked about the farm-yards; and in lonelier places hares scudded, +rabbits burrowed, and pheasants and partridges, with many other smaller +birds, inhabited the fields and woods. + +Through his wonderful spectacles the Prince could see everything; but, +as I said, it was a silent picture; he was too high up to catch anything +except a faint murmur, which only aroused his anxiety to hear more. + +“I have as good as two pairs of eyes,” he thought. “I wonder if my +godmother would give me a second pair of ears.” + +Scarcely had he spoken than he found lying on his lap the most curious +little parcel, all done up in silvery paper. And it contained--what do +you think? Actually a pair of silver ears, which, when he tried them on, +fitted so exactly over his own that he hardly felt them, except for the +difference they made in his hearing. + +There is something which we listen to daily and never notice. I mean +the sounds of the visible world, animate and inanimate. Winds blowing, +waters flowing, trees stirring, insects whirring (dear me! I am quite +unconsciously writing rhyme), with the various cries of birds and +beasts,--lowing cattle, bleating sheep, grunting pigs, and cackling +hens,--all the infinite discords that somehow or other make a beautiful +harmony. + +We hear this, and are so accustomed to it that we think nothing of it; +but Prince Dolor, who had lived all his days in the dead silence of +Hopeless Tower, heard it for the first time. And oh! if you had seen his +face. + +He listened, listened, as if he could never have done listening. And he +looked and looked, as if he could not gaze enough. Above all, the motion +of the animals delighted him: cows walking, horses galloping, little +lambs and calves running races across the meadows, were such a treat for +him to watch--he that was always so quiet. But, these creatures having +four legs, and he only two, the difference did not strike him painfully. + +Still, by and by, after the fashion of children,--and I fear, of many +big people too,--he began to want something more than he had, something +fresh and new. + +“Godmother,” he said, having now begun to believe that, whether he saw +her or not, he could always speak to her with full confidence that she +would hear him--“Godmother, all these creatures I like exceedingly; but +I should like better to see a creature like myself. Couldn't you show me +just one little boy?” + +There was a sigh behind him,--it might have been only the wind,--and +the cloak remained so long balanced motionless in air that he was half +afraid his godmother had forgotten him, or was offended with him for +asking too much. Suddenly a shrill whistle startled him, even through +his silver ears, and looking downward, he saw start up from behind a +bush on a common, something---- + +Neither a sheep nor a horse nor a cow--nothing upon four legs. This +creature had only two; but they were long, straight, and strong. And it +had a lithe, active body, and a curly head of black hair set upon +its shoulders. It was a boy, a shepherd-boy, about the Prince's own +age--but, oh! so different. + +Not that he was an ugly boy--though his face was almost as red as his +hands, and his shaggy hair matted like the backs of his own sheep. He +was rather a nice-looking lad; and seemed so bright and healthy and +good-tempered--“jolly” would be the word, only I am not sure if they +have such a one in the elegant language of Nomansland--that the little +Prince watched him with great admiration. + +“Might he come and play with me? I would drop down to the ground to him, +or fetch him up to me here. Oh, how nice it would be if I only had a +little boy to play with me.” + +But the cloak, usually so obedient to his wishes, disobeyed him now. +There were evidently some things which his godmother either could +not or would not give. The cloak hung stationary, high in air, never +attempting to descend. The shepherd-lad evidently took it for a large +bird, and, shading his eyes, looked up at it, making the Prince's heart +beat fast. + +However, nothing ensued. The boy turned round, with a long, loud +whistle--seemingly his usual and only way of expressing his feelings. He +could not make the thing out exactly--it was a rather mysterious affair, +but it did not trouble him much--he was not an “examining” boy. + +Then, stretching himself, for he had been evidently half asleep, he +began flopping his shoulders with his arms to wake and warm himself; +while his dog, a rough collie, who had been guarding the sheep +meanwhile, began to jump upon him, barking with delight. + +“Down, Snap, down: Stop that, or I'll thrash you,” the Prince heard him +say; though with such a rough, hard voice and queer pronunciation that +it was difficult to make the words out. “Hollo! Let's warm ourselves by +a race.” + +They started off together, boy and dog--barking and shouting, till it +was doubtful which made the more noise or ran the faster. A regular +steeplechase it was: first across the level common, greatly disturbing +the quiet sheep; and then tearing away across country, scrambling +through hedges and leaping ditches, and tumbling up and down over plowed +fields. They did not seem to have anything to run for--but as if they +did it, both of them, for the mere pleasure of motion. + +And what a pleasure that seemed! To the dog of course, but scarcely less +so to the boy. How he skimmed along over the ground--his cheeks glowing, +and his hair flying, and his legs--oh, what a pair of legs he had! + +Prince Dolor watched him with great intentness, and in a state of +excitement almost equal to that of the runner himself--for a while. Then +the sweet, pale face grew a trifle paler, the lips began to quiver, and +the eyes to fill. + +“How nice it must be to run like that!” he said softly, thinking that +never--no, never in this world--would he be able to do the same. + +Now he understood what his godmother had meant when she gave him his +traveling-cloak, and why he had heard that sigh--he was sure it was +hers--when he had asked to see “just one little boy.” + +“I think I had rather not look at him again,” said the poor little +Prince, drawing himself back into the center of his cloak, and resuming +his favorite posture, sitting like a Turk, with his arms wrapped round +his feeble, useless legs. + +“You're no good to me,” he said, patting them mournfully. “You never +will be any good to me. I wonder why I had you at all. I wonder why I +was born at all, since I was not to grow up like other boys. Why not?” + +A question so strange, so sad, yet so often occurring in some form +or other in this world--as you will find, my children, when you are +older--that even if he had put it to his mother she could only have +answered it, as we have to answer many as difficult things, by simply +saying, “I don't know.” There is much that we do not know and cannot +understand--we big folks no more than you little ones. We have to accept +it all just as you have to accept anything which your parents may +tell you, even though you don't as yet see the reason of it. You may +sometime, if you do exactly as they tell you, and are content to wait. + +Prince Dolor sat a good while thus, or it appeared to him a good while, +so many thoughts came and went through his poor young mind--thoughts of +great bitterness, which, little though he was, seemed to make him grow +years older in a few minutes. + +Then he fancied the cloak began to rock gently to and fro, with a +soothing kind of motion, as if he were in somebody's arms: somebody who +did not speak, but loved him and comforted him without need of words; +not by deceiving him with false encouragement or hope, but by making +him see the plain, hard truth in all its hardness, and thus letting him +quietly face it, till it grew softened down, and did not seem nearly so +dreadful after all. + +Through the dreary silence and blankness, for he had placed himself so +that he could see nothing but the sky, and had taken off his silver ears +as well as his gold spectacles--what was the use of either when he had +no legs with which to walk or run?--up from below there rose a delicious +sound. + +You have heard it hundreds of times, my children, and so have I. When I +was a child I thought there was nothing so sweet; and I think so still. +It was just the song of a skylark, mounting higher and higher from the +ground, till it came so close that Prince Dolor could distinguish his +quivering wings and tiny body, almost too tiny to contain such a gush of +music. + +“Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bird!” cried he; “I should dearly like to +take you in and cuddle you. That is, if I could--if I dared.” + +But he hesitated. The little brown creature with its loud heavenly voice +almost made him afraid. Nevertheless, it also made him happy; and he +watched and listened--so absorbed that he forgot all regret and pain, +forgot everything in the world except the little lark. + +It soared and soared, and he was just wondering if it would soar out +of sight, and what in the world he should do when it was gone, when it +suddenly closed its wings, as larks do when they mean to drop to the +ground. But, instead of dropping to the ground, it dropped right into +the little boy's breast. + +What felicity! If it would only stay! A tiny, soft thing to fondle and +kiss, to sing to him all day long, and be his playfellow and companion, +tame and tender, while to the rest of the world it was a wild bird of +the air. What a pride, what a delight! To have something that nobody +else had--something all his own. As the traveling-cloak traveled on, +he little heeded where, and the lark still stayed, nestled down in his +bosom, hopped from his hand to his shoulder, and kissed him with its +dainty beak, as if it loved him, Prince Dolor forgot all his grief, and +was entirely happy. + +But when he got in sight of Hopeless Tower a painful thought struck him. + +“My pretty bird, what am I to do with you? If I take you into my room +and shut you up there, you, a wild skylark of the air, what will become +of you? I am used to this, but you are not. You will be so miserable; +and suppose my nurse should find you--she who can't bear the sound of +singing? Besides, I remember her once telling me that the nicest thing +she ever ate in her life was lark pie!” + +The little boy shivered all over at the thought. And, though the merry +lark immediately broke into the loudest carol, as if saying derisively +that he defied anybody to eat him, still, Prince Dolor was very uneasy. +In another minute he had made up his mind. + +“No, my bird, nothing so dreadful shall happen to you if I can help it; +I would rather do without you altogether. Yes, I'll try. Fly away, my +darling, my beautiful! Good-by, my merry, merry bird.” + +Opening his two caressing hands, in which, as if for protection, he had +folded it, he let the lark go. It lingered a minute, perching on the rim +of the cloak, and looking at him with eyes of almost human tenderness; +then away it flew, far up into the blue sky. It was only a bird. + +But some time after, when Prince Dolor had eaten his supper--somewhat +drearily, except for the thought that he could not possibly sup off lark +pie now--and gone quietly to bed, the old familiar little bed, where he +was accustomed to sleep, or lie awake contentedly thinking--suddenly +he heard outside the window a little faint carol--faint but +cheerful--cheerful even though it was the middle of the night. + +The dear little lark! it had not flown away, after all. And it was +truly the most extraordinary bird, for, unlike ordinary larks, it kept +hovering about the tower in the silence and darkness of the night, +outside the window or over the roof. Whenever he listened for a moment, +he heard it singing still. + +He went to sleep as happy as a king. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +“Happy as a king.” How far kings are happy I cannot say, no more than +could Prince Dolor, though he had once been a king himself. But he +remembered nothing about it, and there was nobody to tell him, except +his nurse, who had been forbidden upon pain of death to let him know +anything about his dead parents, or the king his uncle, or indeed any +part of his own history. + +Sometimes he speculated about himself, whether he had had a father and +mother as other little boys had what they had been like, and why he +had never seen them. But, knowing nothing about them, he did not miss +them--only once or twice, reading pretty stories about little children +and their mothers, who helped them when they were in difficulty and +comforted them when they were sick, he feeling ill and dull and lonely, +wondered what had become of his mother and why she never came to see +him. + +Then, in his history lessons, of course he read about kings and princes, +and the governments of different countries, and the events that happened +there. And though he but faintly took in all this, still he did take +it in a little, and worried his young brain about it, and perplexed +his nurse with questions, to which she returned sharp and mysterious +answers, which only set him thinking the more. + +He had plenty of time for thinking. After his last journey in the +traveling-cloak, the journey which had given him so much pain, his +desire to see the world somehow faded away. He contented himself with +reading his books, and looking out of the tower windows, and listening +to his beloved little lark, which had come home with him that day, and +never left him again. + +True, it kept out of the way; and though his nurse sometimes dimly heard +it, and said “What is that horrid noise outside?” she never got the +faintest chance of making it into a lark pie. Prince Dolor had his pet +all to himself, and though he seldom saw it, he knew it was near him, +and he caught continually, at odd hours of the day, and even in the +night, fragments of its delicious song. + +All during the winter--so far as there ever was any difference between +summer and winter in Hopeless Tower--the little bird cheered and amused +him. He scarcely needed anything more--not even his traveling-cloak, +which lay bundled up unnoticed in a corner, tied up in its innumerable +knots. + +Nor did his godmother come near him. It seemed as if she had given these +treasures and left him alone--to use them or lose them, apply them or +misapply them, according to his own choice. That is all we can do with +children when they grow into big children old enough to distinguish +between right and wrong, and too old to be forced to do either. + +Prince Dolor was now quite a big boy. Not tall--alas! he never could be +that, with his poor little shrunken legs, which were of no use, only an +encumbrance. But he was stout and strong, with great sturdy shoulders, +and muscular arms, upon which he could swing himself about almost like +a monkey. As if in compensation for his useless lower limbs, Nature +had given to these extra strength and activity. His face, too, was very +handsome; thinner, firmer, more manly; but still the sweet face of his +childhood--his mother's own face. + +How his mother would have liked to look at him! Perhaps she did--who +knows? + +The boy was not a stupid boy either. He could learn almost anything he +chose--and he did choose, which was more than half the battle. He never +gave up his lessons till he had learned them all--never thought it a +punishment that he had to work at them, and that they cost him a deal of +trouble sometimes. + +“But,” thought he, “men work, and it must be so grand to be a man--a +prince too; and I fancy princes work harder than anybody--except kings. +The princes I read about generally turn into kings. I wonder”--the +boy was always wondering--“Nurse,”--and one day he startled her with a +sudden question,--“tell me--shall I ever be a king?” + +The woman stood, perplexed beyond expression. So long a time had passed +by since her crime--if it were a crime--and her sentence, that she now +seldom thought of either. Even her punishment--to be shut up for life in +Hopeless Tower--she had gradually got used to. Used also to the little +lame Prince, her charge--whom at first she had hated, though she +carefully did everything to keep him alive, since upon him her own life +hung. + +But latterly she had ceased to hate him, and, in a sort of way, almost +loved him--at least, enough to be sorry for him--an innocent child, +imprisoned here till he grew into an old man, and became a dull, +worn-out creature like herself. Sometimes, watching him, she felt more +sorry for him than even for herself; and then, seeing she looked a less +miserable and ugly woman, he did not shrink from her as usual. + +He did not now. “Nurse--dear nurse,” said he, “I don't mean to vex you, +but tell me what is a king? shall I ever be one?” + +When she began to think less of herself and more of the child, the +woman's courage increased. The idea came to her--what harm would it be, +even if he did know his own history? Perhaps he ought to know it--for +there had been various ups and downs, usurpations, revolutions, and +restorations in Nomansland, as in most other countries. Something might +happen--who could tell? Changes might occur. Possibly a crown would +even yet be set upon those pretty, fair curls--which she began to think +prettier than ever when she saw the imaginary coronet upon them. + +She sat down, considering whether her oath, never to “say a word” to +Prince Dolor about himself, would be broken if she were to take a +pencil and write what was to be told. A mere quibble--a mean, miserable +quibble. But then she was a miserable woman, more to be pitied than +scorned. + +After long doubt, and with great trepidation, she put her fingers to her +lips, and taking the Prince's slate--with the sponge tied to it, ready +to rub out the writing in a minute--she wrote: + +“You are a king.” + +Prince Dolor started. His face grew pale, and then flushed all over; he +held himself erect. Lame as he was, anybody could see he was born to be +a king. + +“Hush!” said the nurse, as he was beginning to speak. And then, terribly +frightened all the while,--people who have done wrong always are +frightened,--she wrote down in a few hurried sentences his history. How +his parents had died--his uncle had usurped his throne, and sent him to +end his days in this lonely tower. + +“I, too,” added she, bursting into tears. “Unless, indeed, you could get +out into the world, and fight for your rights like a man. And fight for +me also, my Prince, that I may not die in this desolate place.” + +“Poor old nurse!” said the boy compassionately. For somehow, boy as he +was, when he heard he was born to be a king, he felt like a man--like a +king--who could afford to be tender because he was strong. + +He scarcely slept that night, and even though he heard his little lark +singing in the sunrise, he barely listened to it. Things more serious +and important had taken possession of his mind. + +“Suppose,” thought he, “I were to do as she says, and go out in the +world, no matter how it hurts me--the world of people, active people, as +that boy I saw. They might only laugh at me--poor helpless creature that +I am; but still I might show them I could do something. At any rate, I +might go and see if there were anything for me to do. Godmother, help +me!” + +It was so long since he had asked her help that he was hardly surprised +when he got no answer--only the little lark outside the window sang +louder and louder, and the sun rose, flooding the room with light. + +Prince Dolor sprang out of bed, and began dressing himself, which was +hard work, for he was not used to it--he had always been accustomed to +depend upon his nurse for everything. + +“But I must now learn to be independent,” thought he. “Fancy a king +being dressed like a baby!” + +So he did the best he could,--awkwardly but cheerily,--and then he +leaped to the corner where lay his traveling-cloak, untied it as before, +and watched it unrolling itself--which it did rapidly, with a hearty +good-will, as if quite tired of idleness. So was Prince Dolor--or felt +as if he were. He jumped into the middle of it, said his charm, and was +out through the skylight immediately. + +“Good-by, pretty lark!” he shouted, as he passed it on the wing, still +warbling its carol to the newly risen sun. “You have been my pleasure, +my delight; now I must go and work. Sing to old nurse till I come back +again. Perhaps she'll hear you--perhaps she won't--but it will do her +good all the same. Good-by!” + +But, as the cloak hung irresolute in air, he suddenly remembered that he +had not determined where to go--indeed, he did not know, and there was +nobody to tell him. + +“Godmother,” he cried, in much perplexity, “you know what I want,--at +least, I hope you do, for I hardly do myself--take me where I ought to +go; show me whatever I ought to see--never mind what I like to see,” + as a sudden idea came into his mind that he might see many painful and +disagreeable things. But this journey was not for pleasure as before. He +was not a baby now, to do nothing but play--big boys do not always play. +Nor men neither--they work. Thus much Prince Dolor knew--though very +little more. + +As the cloak started off, traveling faster than he had ever known it to +do,--through sky-land and cloud land, over freezing mountain-tops, and +desolate stretches of forest, and smiling cultivated plains, and great +lakes that seemed to him almost as shoreless as the sea,--he was often +rather frightened. But he crouched down, silent and quiet; what was the +use of making a fuss? and, wrapping himself up in his bear-skin, waited +for what was to happen. + +After some time he heard a murmur in the distance, increasing more +and more till it grew like the hum of a gigantic hive of bees. And, +stretching his chin over the rim of his cloak, Prince Dolor saw--far, +far below him, yet, with his gold spectacles and silver ears on, he +could distinctly hear and see--what? + +Most of us have some time or other visited a great metropolis--have +wandered through its network of streets--lost ourselves in its crowds +of people--looked up at its tall rows of houses, its grand public +buildings, churches, and squares. Also, perhaps, we have peeped into its +miserable little back alleys, where dirty children play in gutters all +day and half the night--even young boys go about picking pockets, with +nobody to tell them it is wrong except the policeman, and he simply +takes them off to prison. And all this wretchedness is close behind the +grandeur--like the two sides of the leaf of a book. + +An awful sight is a large city, seen any how from any where. But, +suppose you were to see it from the upper air, where, with your eyes +and ears open, you could take in everything at once? What would it look +like? How would you feel about it? I hardly know myself. Do you? + +Prince Dolor had need to be a king--that is, a boy with a kingly +nature--to be able to stand such a sight without being utterly overcome. +But he was very much bewildered--as bewildered as a blind person who is +suddenly made to see. + +He gazed down on the city below him, and then put his hand over his +eyes. + +“I can't bear to look at it, it is so beautiful--so dreadful. And I +don't understand it--not one bit. There is nobody to tell me about it. I +wish I had somebody to speak to.” + +“Do you? Then pray speak to me. I was always considered good at +conversation.” + +The voice that squeaked out this reply was an excellent imitation of the +human one, though it came only from a bird. No lark this time, however, +but a great black and white creature that flew into the cloak, and began +walking round and round on the edge of it with a dignified stride, one +foot before the other, like any unfeathered biped you could name. + +“I haven't the honor of your acquaintance, sir,” said the boy politely. + +“Ma'am, if you please. I am a mother bird, and my name is Mag, and I +shall be happy to tell you everything you want to know. For I know a +great deal; and I enjoy talking. My family is of great antiquity; we +have built in this palace for hundreds--that is to say, dozens of years. +I am intimately acquainted with the king, the queen, and the little +princes and princesses--also the maids of honor, and all the inhabitants +of the city. I talk a good deal, but I always talk sense, and I daresay +I should be exceedingly useful to a poor little ignorant boy like you.” + +“I am a prince,” said the other gently. + +“All right. And I am a magpie. You will find me a most respectable +bird.” + +“I have no doubt of it,” was the polite answer--though he thought in his +own mind that Mag must have a very good opinion of herself. But she was +a lady and a stranger, so of course he was civil to her. + +She settled herself at his elbow, and began to chatter away, pointing +out with one skinny claw, while she balanced herself on the other, every +object of interest, evidently believing, as no doubt all its inhabitants +did, that there was no capital in the world like the great metropolis of +Nomansland. + +I have not seen it, and therefore cannot describe it, so we will just +take it upon trust, and suppose it to be, like every other fine city, +the finest city that ever was built. Mag said so--and of course she +knew. + +Nevertheless, there were a few things in it which surprised Prince +Dolor--and, as he had said, he could not understand them at all. One +half the people seemed so happy and busy--hurrying up and down the full +streets, or driving lazily along the parks in their grand carriages, +while the other half were so wretched and miserable. + +“Can't the world be made a little more level? I would try to do it if I +were a king.” + +“But you're not the king: only a little goose of a boy,” returned the +magpie loftily. “And I'm here not to explain things, only to show them. +Shall I show you the royal palace?” + +It was a very magnificent palace. It had terraces and gardens, +battlements and towers. It extended over acres of ground, and had in +it rooms enough to accommodate half the city. Its windows looked in all +directions, but none of them had any particular view--except a small +one, high up toward the roof, which looked out on the Beautiful +Mountains. But since the queen died there it had been closed, boarded +up, indeed, the magpie said. It was so little and inconvenient that +nobody cared to live in it. Besides, the lower apartments, which had no +view, were magnificent--worthy of being inhabited by the king. + +“I should like to see the king,” said Prince Dolor. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +What, I wonder, would be people's idea of a king? What was Prince +Dolor's? + +Perhaps a very splendid personage, with a crown on his head and a +scepter in his hand, sitting on a throne and judging the people. Always +doing right, and never wrong--“The king can do no wrong” was a law +laid down in olden times. Never cross, or tired, or sick, or suffering; +perfectly handsome and well dressed, calm and good-tempered, ready to +see and hear everybody, and discourteous to nobody; all things always +going well with him, and nothing unpleasant ever happening. + +This, probably, was what Prince Dolor expected to see. And what did he +see? But I must tell you how he saw it. + +“Ah,” said the magpie, “no levee to-day. The King is ill, though his +Majesty does not wish it to be generally known--it would be so very +inconvenient. He can't see you, but perhaps you might like to go and +take a look at him in a way I often do? It is so very amusing.” + +Amusing, indeed! + +The prince was just now too much excited to talk much. Was he not going +to see the king his uncle, who had succeeded his father and dethroned +himself; had stepped into all the pleasant things that he, Prince Dolor, +ought to have had, and shut him up in a desolate tower? What was he +like, this great, bad, clever man? Had he got all the things he wanted, +which another ought to have had? And did he enjoy them? + +“Nobody knows,” answered the magpie, just as if she had been sitting +inside the prince's heart, instead of on the top of his shoulder. “He is +a king, and that's enough. For the rest nobody knows.” + +As she spoke, Mag flew down on to the palace roof, where the cloak +had rested, settling down between the great stacks of chimneys as +comfortably as if on the ground. She pecked at the tiles with her +beak--truly she was a wonderful bird--and immediately a little hole +opened, a sort of door, through which could be seen distinctly the +chamber below. + +“Now look in, my Prince. Make haste, for I must soon shut it up again.” + +But the boy hesitated. “Isn't it rude?--won't they think us intruding?” + +“Oh, dear no! there's a hole like this in every palace; dozens of holes, +indeed. Everybody knows it, but nobody speaks of it. Intrusion! Why, +though the royal family are supposed to live shut up behind stone walls +ever so thick, all the world knows that they live in a glass house where +everybody can see them and throw a stone at them. Now pop down on your +knees, and take a peep at his Majesty.” + +His Majesty! + +The Prince gazed eagerly down into a large room, the largest room he had +ever beheld, with furniture and hangings grander than anything he could +have ever imagined. A stray sunbeam, coming through a crevice of the +darkened windows, struck across the carpet, and it was the loveliest +carpet ever woven--just like a bed of flowers to walk over; only nobody +walked over it, the room being perfectly empty and silent. + +“Where is the King?” asked the puzzled boy. + +“There,” said Mag, pointing with one wrinkled claw to a magnificent bed, +large enough to contain six people. In the center of it, just visible +under the silken counterpane,--quite straight and still,--with its head +on the lace pillow, lay a small figure, something like wax-work, fast +asleep--very fast asleep! There was a number of sparkling rings on the +tiny yellow hands, that were curled a little, helplessly, like a baby's, +outside the coverlet; the eyes were shut, the nose looked sharp and +thin, and the long gray beard hid the mouth and lay over the breast. +A sight not ugly nor frightening, only solemn and quiet. And so very +silent--two little flies buzzing about the curtains of the bed being the +only audible sound. + +“Is that the King?” whispered Prince Dolor. + +“Yes,” replied the bird. + +He had been angry--furiously angry--ever since he knew how his uncle had +taken the crown, and sent him, a poor little helpless child, to be shut +up for life, just as if he had been dead. Many times the boy had felt +as if, king as he was, he should like to strike him, this great, strong, +wicked man. + +Why, you might as well have struck a baby! How helpless he lay, with his +eyes shut, and his idle hands folded: they had no more work to do, bad +or good. + +“What is the matter with him?” asked the Prince. + +“He is dead,” said the Magpie, with a croak. + +No, there was not the least use in being angry with him now. On the +contrary, the Prince felt almost sorry for him, except that he looked +so peaceful with all his cares at rest. And this was being dead? So even +kings died? + +“Well, well, he hadn't an easy life, folk say, for all his grandeur. +Perhaps he is glad it is over. Good-by, your Majesty.” + +With another cheerful tap of her beak, Mistress Mag shut down the little +door in the tiles, and Prince Dolor's first and last sight of his uncle +was ended. + +He sat in the center of his traveling-cloak, silent and thoughtful. + +“What shall we do now?” said the magpie. “There's nothing much more to +be done with his majesty, except a fine funeral, which I shall certainly +go and see. All the world will. He interested the world exceedingly when +he was alive, and he ought to do it now he's dead--just once more. +And since he can't hear me, I may as well say that, on the whole, his +majesty is much better dead than alive--if we can only get somebody +in his place. There'll be such a row in the city presently. Suppose we +float up again and see it all--at a safe distance, though. It will be +such fun!” + +“What will be fun?” + +“A revolution.” + +Whether anybody except a magpie would have called it “fun” I don't know, +but it certainly was a remarkable scene. + +As soon as the cathedral bell began to toll and the minute-guns to +fire, announcing to the kingdom that it was without a king, the people +gathered in crowds, stopping at street corners to talk together. The +murmur now and then rose into a shout, and the shout into a roar. When +Prince Dolor, quietly floating in upper air, caught the sound of their +different and opposite cries, it seemed to him as if the whole city had +gone mad together. + +“Long live the king!” “The king is dead--down with the king!” “Down with +the crown, and the king too!” “Hurrah for the republic!” “Hurrah for no +government at all!” + +Such were the shouts which traveled up to the traveling-cloak. And then +began--oh, what a scene! + +When you children are grown men and women--or before--you will hear and +read in books about what are called revolutions--earnestly I trust that +neither I nor you may ever see one. But they have happened, and may +happen again, in other countries besides Nomansland, when wicked kings +have helped to make their people wicked too, or out of an unrighteous +nation have sprung rulers equally bad; or, without either of these +causes, when a restless country has fancied any change better than no +change at all. + +For me, I don't like changes, unless pretty sure that they are for good. +And how good can come out of absolute evil--the horrible evil that went +on this night under Prince Dolor's very eyes--soldiers shooting down +people by hundreds in the streets, scaffolds erected, and heads dropping +off--houses burned, and women and children murdered--this is more than I +can understand. + +But all these things you will find in history, my children, and must +by and by judge for yourselves the right and wrong of them, as far as +anybody ever can judge. + +Prince Dolor saw it all. Things happened so fast one after another that +they quite confused his faculties. + +“Oh, let me go home,” he cried at last, stopping his ears and shutting +his eyes; “only let me go home!” for even his lonely tower seemed home, +and its dreariness and silence absolute paradise after all this. + +“Good-by, then,” said the magpie, flapping her wings. She had been +chatting incessantly all day and all night, for it was actually thus +long that Prince Dolor had been hovering over the city, neither eating +nor sleeping, with all these terrible things happening under his very +eyes. “You've had enough, I suppose, of seeing the world?” + +“Oh, I have--I have!” cried the prince, with a shudder. + +“That is, till next time. All right, your royal highness. You don't know +me, but I know you. We may meet again some time.” + +She looked at him with her clear, piercing eyes, sharp enough to see +through everything, and it seemed as if they changed from bird's eyes +to human eyes--the very eyes of his godmother, whom he had not seen for +ever so long. But the minute afterward she became only a bird, and with +a screech and a chatter, spread her wings and flew away. + +Prince Dolor fell into a kind of swoon of utter misery, bewilderment, +and exhaustion, and when he awoke he found himself in his own +room--alone and quiet--with the dawn just breaking, and the long rim of +yellow light in the horizon glimmering through the window-panes. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +When Prince Dolor sat up in bed, trying to remember where he was, +whither he had been, and what he had seen the day before, he perceived +that his room was empty. + +Generally his nurse rather worried him by breaking his slumbers, coming +in and “setting things to rights,” as she called it. Now the dust lay +thick upon chairs and tables; there was no harsh voice heard to scold +him for not getting up immediately, which, I am sorry to say, this boy +did not always do. For he so enjoyed lying still, and thinking lazily +about everything or nothing, that, if he had not tried hard against it, +he would certainly have become like those celebrated + + “Two little men + Who lay in their bed till the clock struck ten.” + +It was striking ten now, and still no nurse was to be seen. He was +rather relieved at first, for he felt so tired; and besides, when he +stretched out his arm, he found to his dismay that he had gone to bed in +his clothes. + +Very uncomfortable he felt, of course; and just a little frightened. +Especially when he began to call and call again, but nobody answered. +Often he used to think how nice it would be to get rid of his nurse and +live in this tower all by himself--like a sort of monarch able to do +everything he liked, and leave undone all that he did not want to do; +but now that this seemed really to have happened, he did not like it at +all. + +“Nurse,--dear nurse,--please come back!” he called out. “Come back, and +I will be the best boy in all the land.” + +And when she did not come back, and nothing but silence answered his +lamentable call, he very nearly began to cry. + +“This won't do,” he said at last, dashing the tears from his eyes. “It's +just like a baby, and I'm a big boy--shall be a man some day. What has +happened, I wonder? I'll go and see.” + +He sprang out of bed,--not to his feet, alas! but to his poor little +weak knees, and crawled on them from room to room. All the four chambers +were deserted--not forlorn or untidy, for everything seemed to have been +done for his comfort--the breakfast and dinner things were laid, the +food spread in order. He might live “like a prince,” as the proverb +is, for several days. But the place was entirely forsaken--there was +evidently not a creature but himself in the solitary tower. + +A great fear came upon the poor boy. Lonely as his life had been, he had +never known what it was to be absolutely alone. A kind of despair seized +him--no violent anger or terror, but a sort of patient desolation. + +“What in the world am I to do?” thought he, and sat down in the middle +of the floor, half inclined to believe that it would be better to give +up entirely, lay himself down, and die. + +This feeling, however, did not last long, for he was young and strong, +and, I said before, by nature a very courageous boy. There came into +his head, somehow or other, a proverb that his nurse had taught him--the +people of Nomansland were very fond of proverbs: + + “For every evil under the sun + There is a remedy, or there's none; + If there is one, try to find it-- + If there isn't, never mind it.” + +“I wonder is there a remedy now, and could I find it?” cried the Prince, +jumping up and looking out of the window. + +No help there. He only saw the broad, bleak, sunshiny plain--that is, at +first. But by and by, in the circle of mud that surrounded the base of +the tower, he perceived distinctly the marks of a horse's feet, and just +in the spot where the deaf-mute was accustomed to tie up his great black +charger, while he himself ascended, there lay the remains of a bundle of +hay and a feed of corn. + +“Yes, that's it. He has come and gone, taking nurse away with him. Poor +nurse! how glad she would be to go!” + +That was Prince Dolor's first thought. His second--wasn't it +natural?--was a passionate indignation at her cruelty--at the cruelty +of all the world toward him, a poor little helpless boy. Then he +determined, forsaken as he was, to try and hold on to the last, and not +to die as long as he could possibly help it. + +Anyhow, it would be easier to die here than out in the world, among the +terrible doings which he had just beheld--from the midst of which, it +suddenly struck him, the deaf-mute had come, contriving somehow to make +the nurse understand that the king was dead, and she need have no fear +in going back to the capital, where there was a grand revolution, and +everything turned upside down. So, of course, she had gone. “I hope +she'll enjoy it, miserable woman--if they don't cut off her head too.” + +And then a kind of remorse smote him for feeling so bitterly toward her, +after all the years she had taken care of him--grudgingly, perhaps, and +coldly; still she had taken care of him, and that even to the last: for, +as I have said, all his four rooms were as tidy as possible, and his +meals laid out, that he might have no more trouble than could be helped. + +“Possibly she did not mean to be cruel. I won't judge her,” said he. And +afterward he was very glad that he had so determined. + +For the second time he tried to dress himself, and then to do everything +he could for himself--even to sweeping up the hearth and putting on +more coals. “It's a funny thing for a prince to have to do,” said he, +laughing. “But my godmother once said princes need never mind doing +anything.” + +And then he thought a little of his godmother. Not of summoning her, or +asking her to help him,--she had evidently left him to help himself, +and he was determined to try his best to do it, being a very proud and +independent boy,--but he remembered her tenderly and regret-fully, as if +even she had been a little hard upon him--poor, forlorn boy that he was. +But he seemed to have seen and learned so much within the last few days +that he scarcely felt like a boy, but a man--until he went to bed at +night. + +When I was a child, I used often to think how nice it would be to live +in a little house all by my own self--a house built high up in a tree, +or far away in a forest, or halfway up a hillside so deliciously alone +and independent. Not a lesson to learn--but no! I always liked learning +my lessons. Anyhow, to choose the lessons I liked best, to have as many +books to read and dolls to play with as ever I wanted: above all, to be +free and at rest, with nobody to tease or trouble or scold me, would be +charming. For I was a lonely little thing, who liked quietness--as many +children do; which other children, and sometimes grown-up people even, +cannot understand. And so I can understand Prince Dolor. + +After his first despair, he was not merely comfortable, but actually +happy in his solitude, doing everything for himself, and enjoying +everything by himself--until bedtime. Then he did not like it at all. +No more, I suppose, than other children would have liked my imaginary +house in a tree when they had had sufficient of their own company. + +But the Prince had to bear it--and he did bear it, like a prince--for +fully five days. All that time he got up in the morning and went to bed +at night without having spoken to a creature, or, indeed, heard a +single sound. For even his little lark was silent; and as for his +traveling-cloak, either he never thought about it, or else it had been +spirited away--for he made no use of it, nor attempted to do so. + +A very strange existence it was, those five lonely days. He never +entirely forgot it. It threw him back upon himself, and into himself--in +a way that all of us have to learn when we grow up, and are the better +for it; but it is somewhat hard learning. + +On the sixth day Prince Dolor had a strange composure in his look, but +he was very grave and thin and white. He had nearly come to the end of +his provisions--and what was to happen next? Get out of the tower he +could not: the ladder the deaf-mute used was always carried away again; +and if it had not been, how could the poor boy have used it? And even if +he slung or flung himself down, and by miraculous chance came alive to +the foot of the tower, how could he run away? + +Fate had been very hard to him, or so it seemed. + +He made up his mind to die. Not that he wished to die; on the contrary, +there was a great deal that he wished to live to do; but if he must die, +he must. Dying did not seem so very dreadful; not even to lie quiet like +his uncle, whom he had entirely forgiven now, and neither be miserable +nor naughty any more, and escape all those horrible things that he had +seen going on outside the palace, in that awful place which was called +“the world.” + +“It's a great deal nicer here,” said the poor little Prince, and +collected all his pretty things round him: his favorite pictures, which +he thought he should like to have near him when he died; his books and +toys--no, he had ceased to care for toys now; he only liked them because +he had done so as a child. And there he sat very calm and patient, like +a king in his castle, waiting for the end. + +“Still, I wish I had done something first--something worth doing, that +somebody might remember me by,” thought he. “Suppose I had grown a man, +and had had work to do, and people to care for, and was so useful and +busy that they liked me, and perhaps even forgot I was lame? Then it +would have been nice to live, I think.” + +A tear came into the little fellow's eyes, and he listened intently +through the dead silence for some hopeful sound. + +Was there one?--was it his little lark, whom he had almost forgotten? +No, nothing half so sweet. But it really was something--something which +came nearer and nearer, so that there was no mistaking it. It was the +sound of a trumpet, one of the great silver trumpets so admired in +Nomansland. Not pleasant music, but very bold, grand, and inspiring. + +As he listened to it the boy seemed to recall many things which had +slipped his memory for years, and to nerve himself for whatever might be +going to happen. + +What had happened was this. + +The poor condemned woman had not been such a wicked woman after all. +Perhaps her courage was not wholly disinterested, but she had done a +very heroic thing. As soon as she heard of the death and burial of the +King and of the changes that were taking place in the country, a daring +idea came into her head--to set upon the throne of Nomansland its +rightful heir. Thereupon she persuaded the deaf-mute to take her away +with him, and they galloped like the wind from city to city, spreading +everywhere the news that Prince Dolor's death and burial had been an +invention concocted by his wicked uncle that he was alive and well, and +the noblest young prince that ever was born. + +It was a bold stroke, but it succeeded. The country, weary perhaps of +the late King's harsh rule, and yet glad to save itself from the horrors +of the last few days, and the still further horrors of no rule at all, +and having no particular interest in the other young princes, jumped at +the idea of this Prince, who was the son of their late good King and the +beloved Queen Dolorez. + +“Hurrah for Prince Dolor! Let Prince Dolor be our sovereign!” rang from +end to end of the kingdom. Everybody tried to remember what a dear baby +he once was--how like his mother, who had been so sweet and kind, and +his father, the finest-looking king that ever reigned. Nobody remembered +his lameness--or, if they did, they passed it over as a matter of no +consequence. They were determined to have him reign over them, boy as +he was--perhaps just because he was a boy, since in that case the great +nobles thought they should be able to do as they liked with the country. + +Accordingly, with a fickleness not confined to the people of Nomansland, +no sooner was the late King laid in his grave than they pronounced him +to have been a usurper; turned all his family out of the palace, and +left it empty for the reception of the new sovereign, whom they went +to fetch with great rejoicing, a select body of lords, gentlemen, +and soldiers traveling night and day in solemn procession through the +country until they reached Hopeless Tower. + +There they found the Prince, sitting calmly on the floor--deadly +pale, indeed, for he expected a quite different end from this, and was +resolved, if he had to die, to die courageously, like a Prince and a +King. + +But when they hailed him as Prince and King, and explained to him how +matters stood, and went down on their knees before him, offering the +crown (on a velvet cushion, with four golden tassels, each nearly as +big as his head),--small though he was and lame, which lameness the +courtiers pretended not to notice,--there came such a glow into his +face, such a dignity into his demeanor, that he became beautiful, +king-like. + +“Yes,” he said, “if you desire it, I will be your king. And I will do my +best to make my people happy.” + +Then there arose, from inside and outside the tower, such a shout as +never yet was heard across the lonely plain. + +Prince Dolor shrank a little from the deafening sound. “How shall I be +able to rule all this great people? You forget, my lords, that I am only +a little boy still.” + +“Not so very little,” was the respectful answer. “We have searched +in the records, and found that your Royal Highness--your Majesty, I +mean--is fifteen years old.” + +“Am I?” said Prince Dolor; and his first thought was a thoroughly +childish pleasure that he should now have a birthday, with a whole +nation to keep it. Then he remembered that his childish days were done. +He was a monarch now. Even his nurse, to whom, the moment he saw her, +he had held out his hand, kissed it reverently, and called him +ceremoniously “his Majesty the King.” + +“A king must be always a king, I suppose,” said he half-sadly, when, the +ceremonies over, he had been left to himself for just ten minutes, to +put off his boy's clothes and be reattired in magnificent robes, before +he was conveyed away from his tower to the royal palace. + +He could take nothing with him; indeed, he soon saw that, however +politely they spoke, they would not allow him to take anything. If he +was to be their king, he must give up his old life forever. So he looked +with tender farewell on his old books, old toys, the furniture he knew +so well, and the familiar plain in all its levelness--ugly yet pleasant, +simply because it was familiar. + +“It will be a new life in a new world,” said he to himself; “but I'll +remember the old things still. And, oh! if before I go I could but once +see my dear old godmother.” + +While he spoke he had laid himself down on the bed for a minute or +two, rather tired with his grandeur, and confused by the noise of the +trumpets which kept playing incessantly down below. He gazed, half +sadly, up to the skylight, whence there came pouring a stream of +sunrays, with innumerable motes floating there, like a bridge thrown +between heaven and earth. Sliding down it, as if she had been made of +air, came the little old woman in gray. + +So beautiful looked she--old as she was--that Prince Dolor was at first +quite startled by the apparition. Then he held out his arms in eager +delight. + +“Oh, godmother, you have not forsaken me!” + +“Not at all, my son. You may not have seen me, but I have seen you many +a time.” + +“How?” + +“Oh, never mind. I can turn into anything I please, you know. And I have +been a bearskin rug, and a crystal goblet--and sometimes I have changed +from inanimate to animate nature, put on feathers, and made myself very +comfortable as a bird.” + +“Ha!” laughed the prince, a new light breaking in upon him as he caught +the infection of her tone, lively and mischievous. “Ha! ha! a lark, +for instance?” + +“Or a magpie,” answered she, with a capital imitation of Mistress Mag's +croaky voice. “Do you suppose I am always sentimental, and never funny? +If anything makes you happy, gay, or grave, don't you think it is more +than likely to come through your old godmother?” + +“I believe that,” said the boy tenderly, holding out his arms. They +clasped one another in a close embrace. + +Suddenly Prince Dolor looked very anxious. “You will not leave me now +that I am a king? Otherwise I had rather not be a king at all. Promise +never to forsake me!” + +The little old woman laughed gayly. “Forsake you? that is impossible. +But it is just possible you may forsake me. Not probable though. Your +mother never did, and she was a queen. The sweetest queen in all the +world was the Lady Dolorez.” + +“Tell me about her,” said the boy eagerly. “As I get older I think I can +understand more. Do tell me.” + +“Not now. You couldn't hear me for the trumpets and the shouting. But +when you are come to the palace, ask for a long-closed upper room, which +looks out upon the Beautiful Mountains; open it and take it for your +own. Whenever you go there you will always find me, and we will talk +together about all sorts of things.” + +“And about my mother?” + +The little old woman nodded--and kept nodding and smiling to herself +many times, as the boy repeated over and over again the sweet words he +had never known or understood--“my mother--my mother.” + +“Now I must go,” said she, as the trumpets blared louder and louder, and +the shouts of the people showed that they would not endure any delay. +“Good-by, good-by! Open the window and out I fly.” + +Prince Dolor repeated gayly the musical rhyme--but all the while tried +to hold his godmother fast. + +Vain, vain! for the moment that a knocking was heard at his door the sun +went behind a cloud, the bright stream of dancing motes vanished, and +the little old woman with them--he knew not where. + +So Prince Dolor quitted his tower--which he had entered so mournfully +and ignominiously as a little helpless baby carried in the deaf-mute's +arms--quitted it as the great King of Nomansland. + +The only thing he took away with him was something so insignificant that +none of the lords, gentlemen, and soldiers who escorted him with such +triumphant splendor could possibly notice it--a tiny bundle, which +he had found lying on the floor just where the bridge of sunbeams had +rested. At once he had pounced upon it, and thrust it secretly into his +bosom, where it dwindled into such small proportions that it might +have been taken for a mere chest-comforter, a bit of flannel, or an old +pocket-handkerchief. It was his traveling-cloak! + + + +CHAPTER X + +Did Prince Dolar become a great king? Was he, though little more than a +boy, “the father of his people,” as all kings ought to be? Did his reign +last long--long and happy? and what were the principal events of it, as +chronicled in the history of Nomansland? + +Why, if I were to answer all these questions I should have to write +another book. And I'm tired, children, tired--as grown-up people +sometimes are, though not always with play. (Besides, I have a small +person belonging to me, who, though she likes extremely to listen to the +word-of-mouth story of this book, grumbles much at the writing of it, +and has run about the house clapping her hands with joy when mamma told +her that it was nearly finished. But that is neither here nor there.) + +I have related as well as I could the history of Prince Dolor, but with +the history of Nomansland I am as yet unacquainted. If anybody knows +it, perhaps he or she will kindly write it all down in another book. But +mine is done. + +However, of this I am sure, that Prince Dolor made an excellent king. +Nobody ever does anything less well, not even the commonest duty of +common daily life, for having such a godmother as the little old woman +clothed in gray, whose name is--well, I leave you to guess. Nor, I +think, is anybody less good, less capable of both work and enjoyment in +after-life, for having been a little unhappy in his youth, as the prince +had been. + +I cannot take upon myself to say that he was always happy now--who +is?--or that he had no cares; just show me the person who is quite free +from them! But whenever people worried and bothered him--as they did +sometimes, with state etiquette, state squabbles, and the like, setting +up themselves and pulling down their neighbors--he would take refuge in +that upper room which looked out on the Beautiful Mountains, and, laying +his head on his godmother's shoulder, become calmed and at rest. + +Also, she helped him out of any difficulty which now and then +occurred--for there never was such a wise old woman. When the people of +Nomansland raised the alarm--as sometimes they did--for what people can +exist without a little fault-finding?--and began to cry out, “Un-happy +is the nation whose king is a child,” she would say to him gently, “You +are a child. Accept the fact. Be humble--be teachable. Lean upon the +wisdom of others till you have gained your own.” + +He did so. He learned how to take advice before attempting to give it, +to obey before he could righteously command. He assembled round him all +the good and wise of his kingdom--laid all its affairs before them, and +was guided by their opinions until he had maturely formed his own. + +This he did sooner than anybody would have imagined who did not know +of his godmother and his traveling-cloak--two secret blessings, which, +though many guessed at, nobody quite understood. Nor did they understand +why he loved so the little upper room, except that it had been his +mother's room, from the window of which, as people remembered now, she +had used to sit for hours watching the Beautiful Mountains. + +Out of that window he used to fly--not very often; as he grew older, the +labors of state prevented the frequent use of his traveling-cloak; still +he did use it sometimes. Only now it was less for his own pleasure and +amusement than to see something or investigate something for the good +of the country. But he prized his godmother's gift as dearly as ever. +It was a comfort to him in all his vexations, an enhancement of all his +joys. It made him almost forget his lameness--which was never cured. + +However, the cruel things which had been once foreboded of him did not +happen. His misfortune was not such a heavy one, after all. It proved to +be of much less inconvenience, even to himself, than had been feared. +A council of eminent surgeons and mechanicians invented for him a +wonderful pair of crutches, with the help of which, though he never +walked easily or gracefully, he did manage to walk so as to be quite +independent. And such was the love his people bore him that they never +heard the sound of his crutches on the marble palace floors without a +leap of the heart, for they knew that good was coming to them whenever +he approached. + +Thus, though he never walked in processions, never reviewed his troops +mounted on a magnificent charger, nor did any of the things which make +a show monarch so much appreciated, he was able for all the duties and +a great many of the pleasures of his rank. When he held his levees, +not standing, but seated on a throne ingeniously contrived to hide his +infirmity, the people thronged to greet him; when he drove out +through the city streets, shouts followed him wherever he went--every +countenance brightened as he passed, and his own, perhaps, was the +brightest of all. + +First, because, accepting his affliction as inevitable, he took it +patiently; second, because, being a brave man, he bore it bravely, +trying to forget himself, and live out of himself, and in and for other +people. Therefore other people grew to love him so well that I think +hundreds of his subjects might have been found who were almost ready to +die for their poor lame king. + +He never gave them a queen. When they implored him to choose one, he +replied that his country was his bride, and he desired no other. But +perhaps the real reason was that he shrank from any change; and that no +wife in all the world would have been found so perfect, so lovable, so +tender to him in all his weaknesses as his beautiful old godmother. + +His twenty-four other godfathers and godmothers, or as many of them as +were still alive, crowded round him as soon as he ascended the throne. +He was very civil to them all, but adopted none of the names they had +given him, keeping to the one by which he had been always known, though +it had now almost lost its meaning; for King Dolor was one of the +happiest and cheerfulest men alive. + +He did a good many things, however, unlike most men and most kings, +which a little astonished his subjects. First, he pardoned the condemned +woman who had been his nurse, and ordained that from henceforth there +should be no such thing as the punishment of death in Nomansland. All +capital criminals were to be sent to perpetual imprisonment in Hopeless +Tower and the plain round about it, where they could do no harm to +anybody, and might in time do a little good, as the woman had done. + +Another surprise he shortly afterward gave the nation. He recalled his +uncle's family, who had fled away in terror to another country, and +restored them to all their honors in their own. By and by he chose the +eldest son of his eldest cousin (who had been dead a year), and had him +educated in the royal palace, as the heir to the throne. This little +prince was a quiet, unobtrusive boy, so that everybody wondered at the +King's choosing him when there were so many more; but as he grew into a +fine young fellow, good and brave, they agreed that the King judged more +wisely than they. + +“Not a lame prince, either,” his Majesty observed one day, watching +him affectionately; for he was the best runner, the highest leaper, the +keenest and most active sportsman in the country. “One cannot make one's +self, but one can sometimes help a little in the making of somebody +else. It is well.” + +This was said, not to any of his great lords and ladies, but to a good +old woman--his first homely nurse whom he had sought for far and wide, +and at last found in her cottage among the Beautiful Mountains. He sent +for her to visit him once a year, and treated her with great honor until +she died. He was equally kind, though somewhat less tender, to his other +nurse, who, after receiving her pardon, returned to her native town and +grew into a great lady, and I hope a good one. But as she was so grand a +personage now, any little faults she had did not show. + +Thus King Dolor's reign passed year after year, long and prosperous. +Whether he were happy--“as happy as a king”--is a question no human +being can decide. But I think he was, because he had the power of making +everybody about him happy, and did it too; also because he was his +godmother's godson, and could shut himself up with her whenever he +liked, in that quiet little room in view of the Beautiful Mountains, +which nobody else ever saw or cared to see. They were too far off, and +the city lay so low. But there they were, all the time. No change ever +came to them; and I think, at any day throughout his long reign, the +King would sooner have lost his crown than have lost sight of the +Beautiful Mountains. + +In course of time, when the little Prince, his cousin, was grown into a +tall young man, capable of all the duties of a man, his Majesty did one +of the most extraordinary acts ever known in a sovereign beloved by +his people and prosperous in his reign. He announced that he wished to +invest his heir with the royal purple--at any rate, for a time--while he +himself went away on a distant journey, whither he had long desired to +go. + +Everybody marveled, but nobody opposed him. Who could oppose the good +King, who was not a young king now? And besides, the nation had a great +admiration for the young regent--and possibly a lurking pleasure in +change. + +So there was a fixed day when all the people whom it would hold +assembled in the great square of the capital, to see the young prince +installed solemnly in his new duties, and undertaking his new vows. He +was a very fine young fellow; tall and straight as a poplar tree, with a +frank, handsome face--a great deal handsomer than the king, some people +said, but others thought differently. However, as his Majesty sat on his +throne, with his gray hair falling from underneath his crown, and a few +wrinkles showing in spite of his smile, there was something about his +countenance which made his people, even while they shouted, regard him +with a tenderness mixed with awe. + +He lifted up his thin, slender hand, and there came a silence over the +vast crowd immediately. Then he spoke, in his own accustomed way, using +no grand words, but saying what he had to say in the simplest fashion, +though with a clearness that struck their ears like the first song of a +bird in the dusk of the morning. + +“My people, I am tired: I want to rest. I have had a long reign, and +done much work--at least, as much as I was able to do. Many might have +done it better than I--but none with a better will. Now I leave it to +others; I am tired, very tired. Let me go home.” + +There arose a murmur--of content or discontent none could well tell; +then it died down again, and the assembly listened silently once more. + +“I am not anxious about you, my people--my children,” continued the +King. “You are prosperous and at peace. I leave you in good hands. The +Prince Regent will be a fitter king for you than I.” + +“No, no, no!” rose the universal shout--and those who had sometimes +found fault with him shouted louder than anybody. But he seemed as if he +heard them not. + +“Yes, yes,” said he, as soon as the tumult had a little subsided: and +his voice sounded firm and clear; and some very old people, who boasted +of having seen him as a child, declared that his face took a sudden +change, and grew as young and sweet as that of the little Prince Dolor. +“Yes, I must go. It is time for me to go. Remember me sometimes, my +people, for I have loved you well. And I am going a long way, and I do +not think I shall come back any more.” + +He drew a little bundle out of his breast pocket--a bundle that nobody +had ever seen before. It was small and shabby-looking, and tied up +with many knots, which untied themselves in an instant. With a joyful +countenance, he muttered over it a few half-intelligible words. Then, +so suddenly that even those nearest to his Majesty could not tell how it +came about, the King was away--away--floating right up in the air--upon +something, they knew not what, except that it appeared to be as safe and +pleasant as the wings of a bird. + +And after him sprang a bird--a dear little lark, rising from whence +no one could say, since larks do not usually build their nests in the +pavement of city squares. But there it was, a real lark, singing far +over their heads, louder and clearer and more joyful as it vanished +further into the blue sky. + +Shading their eyes, and straining their ears, the astonished people +stood until the whole vision disappeared like a speck in the clouds--the +rosy clouds that overhung the Beautiful Mountains. + +King Dolor was never again beheld or heard of in his own country. But +the good he had done there lasted for years and years; he was long +missed and deeply mourned--at least, so far as anybody could mourn one +who was gone on such a happy journey. + +Whither he went, or who went with him, it is impossible to say. But I +myself believe that his godmother took him on his traveling-cloak to +the Beautiful Mountains. What he did there, or where he is now, who can +tell? I cannot. But one thing I am quite sure of, that, wherever he is, +he is perfectly happy. + +And so, when I think of him, am I. + + + + +THE INVISIBLE PRINCE + +THERE were a king and queen who were dotingly fond of their only son, +notwithstanding that he was equally deformed in mind and person. The +king was quite sensible of the evil disposition of his son, but the +queen in her excessive fondness saw no fault whatever in her dear +Furibon, as he was named. The surest way to win her favor was to praise +Furibon for charms he did not possess. When he came of age to have a +governor, the king made choice of a prince who had an ancient right to +the crown, but was not able to support it. This prince had a son, named +Leander, handsome, accomplished, amiable--in every respect the opposite +of Prince Furibon. The two were frequently together, which only made the +deformed prince more repulsive. + +One day, certain ambassadors having arrived from a far country, the +prince stood in a gallery to see them; when, taking Leander for the +king's son, they made their obeisance to him, treating Furibon as a mere +dwarf, at which the latter was so offended that he drew his sword, and +would have done them a mischief had not the king just then appeared. As +it was, the affair produced a quarrel, which ended in Leander's being +sent to a far-away castle belonging to his father. + +There, however, he was quite happy, for he was a great lover of hunting, +fishing, and walking: he understood painting, read much, and played upon +several instruments, so that he was glad to be freed from the fantastic +humors of Furibon. One day as he was walking in the garden, finding the +heat increase, he retired into a shady grove and began to play upon the +flute to amuse himself. As he played, he felt something wind about his +leg, and looking down saw a great adder: he took his handkerchief, and +catching it by the head was going to kill it. But the adder, looking +steadfastly in his face, seemed to beg his pardon. At this instant one +of the gardeners happened to come to the place where Leander was, and +spying the snake, cried out to his master: “Hold him fast, sir; it +is but an hour since we ran after him to kill him: it is the most +mischievous creature in the world.” + +Leander, casting his eyes a second time upon the snake, which was +speckled with a thousand extraordinary colors, perceived the poor +creature still looked upon him with an aspect that seemed to implore +compassion, and never tried in the least to defend itself. + +“Though thou hast such a mind to kill it,” said he to the gardener, +“yet, as it came to me for refuge, I forbid thee to do it any harm; for +I will keep it, and when it has cast its beautiful skin I will let it +go.” He then returned home, and carrying the snake with him, put it into +a large chamber, the key of which he kept himself, and ordered bran, +milk, and flowers to be given to it, for its delight and sustenance; +so that never was snake so happy. Leander went sometimes to see it, and +when it perceived him it made haste to meet him, showing him all the +little marks of love and gratitude of which a poor snake was capable, +which did not a little surprise him, though he took no further notice of +it. + +In the meantime all the court ladies were extremely troubled at his +absence, and he was the subject of all their discourse. “Alas!” cried +they, “there is no pleasure at court since Leander is gone, of +whose absence the wicked Furibon is the cause!” Furibon also had his +parasites, for his power over the queen made him feared; they told him +what the ladies said, which enraged him to such a degree that in his +passion he flew to the queen's chamber, and vowed he would kill himself +before her face if she did not find means to destroy Leander. The queen, +who also hated Leander, because he was handsomer than her son, replied +that she had long looked upon him as a traitor, and therefore would +willingly consent to his death. To which purpose she advised Furibon +to go a-hunting with some of his confidants, and contrive it so that +Leander should make one of the party. + +“Then,” said she, “you may find some way to punish him for pleasing +everybody.” + +Furibon understood her, and accordingly went a-hunting; and Leander, +when he heard the horns and the hounds, mounted his horse and rode to +see who it was. But he was surprised to meet the prince so unexpectedly; +he alighted immediately and saluted him with respect; and Furibon +received him more graciously than usual and bade follow him. All of a +sudden he turned his horse and rode another way, making a sign to the +ruffians to take the first opportunity to kill him; but before he had +got quite out of sight, a lion of prodigious size, coming out of his +den, leaped upon Furibon; all his followers fled, and only Leander +remained; who, attacking the animal sword in hand, by his valor and +agility saved the life of his most cruel enemy, who had fallen in a +swoon from fear. When he recovered, Leander presented him his horse to +remount. Now, any other than such a wretch would have been grateful, but +Furibon did not even look upon him; nay, mounting the horse, he rode in +quest of the ruffians, to whom he repeated his orders to kill him. They +accordingly surrounded Leander, who, setting his back to a tree, behaved +with so much bravery that he laid them all dead at his feet. Furibon, +believing him by this time slain, rode eagerly up to the spot. When +Leander saw him he advanced to meet him. “Sir,” said he, “if it was by +your order that these assassins came to kill me, I am sorry I made any +defense.” + +“You are an insolent villain!” replied Furibon, “and if ever you come +into my presence again, you shall surely die.” + +Leander made no answer, but retired sad and pensive to his own home, +where he spent the night in pondering what was best for him to do; for +there was no likelihood he should be able to defend himself against +the power of the king's son; therefore he at length concluded he would +travel abroad and see the world. Being ready to depart, he recollected +his snake, and, calling for some milk and fruits, carried them to the +poor creature for the last time; but on opening the door he perceived an +extraordinary luster in one corner of the room, and casting his eye on +the place he was surprised to see a lady, whose noble and majestic air +made him immediately conclude she was a princess of royal birth. Her +habit was of purple satin, embroidered with pearls and diamonds; she +advanced toward him with a gracious smile. + +“Young prince,” said she, “you find no longer your pet snake, but me, +the fairy Gentilla, ready to requite your generosity. For know that we +fairies live a hundred years in flourishing youth, without diseases, +without trouble or pain; and this term being expired, we become snakes +for eight days. During that time it is not in our power to prevent any +misfortune that may befall us; and if we happen to be killed, we never +revive again. But these eight days being expired, we resume our usual +form and recover our beauty, our power, and our riches. Now you know +how much I am obliged to your goodness, and it is but just that I should +repay my debt of gratitude; think how I can serve you and depend on me.” + +The young prince, who had never conversed with a fairy till now, was so +surprised that it was a long time before he could speak. But at length, +making a profound reverence, “Madam,” said he, “since I have had the +honor to serve you, I know not any other happiness that I can wish for.” + +“I should be sorry,” replied she, “not to be of service to you in +something; consider, it is in my power to bestow on you long life, +kingdoms, riches; to give you mines of diamonds and houses full of gold; +I can make you an excellent orator, poet, musician, and painter; or, if +you desire it, a spirit of the air, the water, or the earth.” + +Here Leander interrupted her. “Permit me, madam,” said he, “to ask you +what benefit it would be to me to be a spirit?” + +“Much,” replied the fairy, “you would be invisible when you pleased, and +might in an instant traverse the whole earth; you would be able to fly +without wings, to descend into the abyss of the earth without dying, +and walk at the bottom of the sea without being drowned; nor doors, nor +windows, though fast shut and locked, could hinder you from entering +anywhere; and whenever you had a mind, you might resume your natural +form.” + +“Oh, madam!” cried Leander, “then let me be a spirit; I am going to +travel, and should prefer it above all those other advantages you have +so generously offered me.” + +Gentilla thereupon stroking his face three times, “Be a spirit,” said +she; and then, embracing him, she gave him a little red cap with a plume +of feathers. “When you put on this cap you shall be invisible; but when +you take it off you shall again become visible.” + +Leander, overjoyed, put his little red cap upon his head and wished +himself in the forest, that he might gather some wild roses which he had +observed there: his body immediately became as light as thought; he flew +through the window like a bird; though, in flying over the river, he was +not without fear lest he should fall into it, and the power of the fairy +not be able to save him. But he arrived in safety at the rose-bushes, +plucked the three roses, and returned immediately to his chamber; +presented his roses to the fairy, overjoyed that his first experiments +had succeeded so well. She bade him keep the roses, for that one of them +would supply him with money whenever he wanted it; that if he put the +other into his mistress' bosom, he would know whether she was faithful +or not; and that the third would keep him always in good health. Then, +without staying to receive his thanks, she wished him success in his +travels and disappeared. + +Leander, infinitely pleased, settled his affairs, mounted the finest +horse in the stable, called Gris-de-line, and attended by some of his +servants in livery, made his return to court. Now you must know Furibon +had given out that had it not been for his courage Leander would have +murdered him when they were a-hunting; so the king, being importuned by +the queen, gave orders that Leander should be apprehended. But when he +came, he showed so much courage and resolution that Furibon ran to the +queen's chamber and prayed her to order him to be seized. The queen, +who was extremely diligent in everything that her son desired, went +immediately to the king. Furibon, being impatient to know what would be +resolved, followed her; but stopped at the door and laid his ear to the +keyhole, putting his hair aside that he might the better hear what was +said. At the same time, Leander entered the court-hall of the palace +with his red cap upon his head, and perceiving Furibon listening at the +door of the king's chamber, he took a nail and a hammer and nailed his +ear to the door. Furibon began to roar, so that the queen, hearing her +son's voice, ran and opened the door, and, pulling it hastily, tore her +son's ear from his head. Half out of her wits, she set him in her lap, +took up his ear, kissed it, and clapped it again upon its place; but +the invisible Leander, seizing upon a handful of twigs, with which they +corrected the king's little dogs, gave the queen several lashes upon her +hands, and her son as many on the nose: upon which the queen cried out, +“Murder! murder!” and the king looked about, and the people came running +in; but nothing was to be seen. Some cried that the queen was mad, and +that her madness proceeded from her grief to see that her son had lost +one ear; and the king was as ready as any to believe it, so that when +she came near him he avoided her, which made a very ridiculous scene. +Leander, then leaving the chamber, went into the garden, and there, +assuming his own shape, he boldly began to pluck the queen's cherries, +apricots, strawberries, and flowers, though he knew she set such a high +value on them that it was as much as a man's life was worth to touch +one. The gardeners, all amazed, came and told their majesties that +Prince Leander was making havoc of all the fruits and flowers in the +queen's gardens. + +“What insolence!” said the queen: then turning to Furibon, “my pretty +child, forget the pain of thy ear but for a moment, and fetch that vile +wretch hither; take our guards, both horse and foot, seize him, and +punish him as he deserves.” + +Furibon, encouraged by his mother, and attended by a great number of +armed soldiers, entered the garden and saw Leander; who, taking refuge +under a tree, pelted them all with oranges. But when they came running +toward him, thinking to have seized him, he was not to be seen; he had +slipped behind Furibon, who was in a bad condition already. But Leander +played him one trick more; for he pushed him down upon the gravel walk, +and frightened him so that the soldiers had to take him up, carry him +away, and put him to bed. + +Satisfied with this revenge, he returned to his servants, who waited +for him, and giving them money, sent them back to his castle, that +none might know the secret of his red cap and roses. As yet he had +not determined whither to go; however, he mounted his fine horse +Gris-de-line, and, laying the reins upon his neck, let him take his +own road: at length he arrived in a forest, where he stopped to shelter +himself from the heat. He had not been above a minute there before he +heard a lamentable noise of sighing and sobbing; and looking about +him, beheld a man, who ran, stopped, then ran again, sometimes crying, +sometimes silent, then tearing his hair, then thumping his breast like +some unfortunate madman. Yet he seemed to be both handsome and young: +his garments had been magnificent, but he had torn them all to tatters. +The prince, moved with compassion, made toward him, and mildly accosted +him. “Sir,” said he, “your condition appears so deplorable that I must +ask the cause of your sorrow, assuring you of every assistance in my +power.” + +“Oh, sir,” answered the young man, “nothing can cure my grief; this day +my dear mistress is to be sacrificed to a rich old ruffian of a husband +who will make her miserable.” + +“Does she love you, then?” asked Leander. + +“I flatter myself so,” answered the young man. + +“Where is she?” continued Leander. + +“In the castle at the end of this forest,” replied the lover. + +“Very well,” said Leander; “stay you here till I come again, and in a +little while I will bring you good news.” + +He then put on his little red cap and wished himself in the castle. He +had hardly got thither before he heard all sorts of music; he entered +into a great room, where the friends and kindred of the old man and the +young lady were assembled. No one could look more amiable than she; +but the paleness of her complexion, the melancholy that appeared in +her countenance, and the tears that now and then dropped, as it were by +stealth from her eyes, betrayed the trouble of her mind. + +Leander now became invisible, and placed himself in a corner of the +room. He soon perceived the father and mother of the bride; and coming +behind the mother's chair, whispered in her ear, “If you marry your +daughter to that old dotard, before eight days are over you shall +certainly die.” The woman, frightened to hear such a terrible sentence +pronounced upon her, and yet not know from whence it came, gave a loud +shriek and dropped upon the floor. Her husband asked what ailed her: +she cried that she was a dead woman if the marriage of her daughter went +forward, and therefore she would not consent to it for all the world. +Her husband laughed at her and called her a fool. But the invisible +Leander accosting the man, threatened him in the same way, which +frightened him so terribly that he also insisted on the marriage being +broken off. When the lover complained, Leander trod hard upon his gouty +toes and rang such an alarm in his ears that, not being able any longer +to hear himself speak, away he limped, glad enough to go. The real +lover soon appeared, and he and his fair mistress fell joyfully into one +another's arms, the parents consenting to their union. Leander, assuming +his own shape, appeared at the hall door, as if he were a stranger drawn +thither by the report of this extraordinary wedding. + +From hence he traveled on, and came to a great city, where, upon his +arrival, he understood there was a great and solemn procession, in order +to shut up a young woman against her will among the vestal-nuns. The +prince was touched with compassion; and thinking the best use he could +make of his cap was to redress public wrongs and relieve the oppressed, +he flew to the temple, where he saw the young woman, crowned with +flowers, clad in white, and with her disheveled hair flowing about her +shoulders. Two of her brothers led her by each hand, and her mother +followed her with a great crowd of men and women. Leander, being +invisible, cried out, “Stop, stop, wicked brethren: stop, rash and +inconsiderate mother; if you proceed any further, you shall be squeezed +to death like so many frogs.” They looked about, but could not conceive +from whence these terrible menaces came. The brothers said it was +only their sister's lover, who had hid himself in some hole; at which +Leander, in wrath, took a long cudgel, and they had no reason to say the +blows were not well laid on. The multitude fled, the vestals ran away, +and Leander was left alone with the victim; immediately he pulled off +his red cap and asked her wherein he might serve her. She answered him +that there was a certain gentleman whom she would be glad to marry, but +that he wanted an estate. Leander then shook his rose so long that he +supplied them with ten millions; after which they were married and lived +happily together. + +But his last adventure was the most agreeable. Entering into a wide +forest, he heard lamentable cries. Looking about him every way, at +length he spied four men well armed, who were carrying away by force a +young lady, thirteen or fourteen years of age; upon which, making up to +them as fast as he could, “What harm has that girl done?” said he. + +“Ha! ha! my little master,” cried he who seemed to be the ringleader of +the rest, “who bade you inquire?” + +“Let her alone,” said Leander, “and go about your business.” + +“Oh, yes, to be sure,” cried they, laughing; whereupon the prince, +alighting, put on his red cap, not thinking it otherwise prudent to +attack four who seemed strong enough to fight a dozen. One of them +stayed to take care of the young lady, while the three others went after +Gris-de-line, who gave them a great deal of unwelcome exercise. + +Meantime the young lady continued her cries and complaints. “Oh, my dear +princess,” said she, “how happy was I in your palace! Did you but +know my sad misfortune, you would send your Amazons to rescue poor +Abricotina.” + +Leander, having listened to what she said, without delay seized the +ruffian that held her, and bound him fast to a tree before he had time +or strength to defend himself. He then went to the second, and taking +him by both arms, bound him in the same manner to another tree. In the +meantime Abricotina made the best of her good fortune and betook herself +to her heels, not knowing which way she went. But Leander, missing her, +called out to his horse Gris-de-line; who, by two kicks with his hoof, +rid himself of the two ruffians who had pursued him: one of them had his +head broken and the other three of his ribs. And now Leander only wanted +to overtake Abricotina; for he thought her so handsome that he wished +to see her again. He found her leaning against a tree. When she saw +Gris-de-line coming toward her, “How lucky am I!” cried she; “this +pretty little horse will carry me to the palace of pleasure.” Leander +heard her, though she saw him not: he rode up to her; Gris-de-line +stopped, and when Abricotina mounted him, Leander clasped her in his +arms and placed her gently before him. Oh, how great was Abricotina's +fear to feel herself fast embraced, and yet see nobody! She durst not +stir, and shut her eyes for fear of seeing a spirit. But Leander took +off his little cap. “How comes it, fair Abricotina,” said he, “that you +are afraid of me, who delivered you out of the hands of the ruffians?” + +With that she opened her eyes, and knowing him again, “Oh, sir,” said +she, “I am infinitely obliged to you; but I was afraid, for I felt +myself held fast and could see no one.” + +“Surely,” replied Leander, “the danger you have been in has disturbed +you and cast a mist before your eyes.” + +Abricotina would not seem to doubt him, though she was otherwise +extremely sensible. And after they had talked for some time of +indifferent things, Leander requested her to tell him her age, her +country, and by what accident she fell into the hands of the ruffians. + +“Know then, sir,” said she, “there was a certain very great fairy +married to a prince who wearied of her: she therefore banished him from +her presence, and established herself and daughter in the Island of Calm +Delights. The princess, who is my mistress, being very fair, has many +lovers--among others, one named Furibon, whom she detests; he it was +whose ruffians seized me to-day when I was wandering in search of a +stray parrot. Accept, noble prince, my best thanks for your valor, which +I shall never forget.” + +Leander said how happy he was to have served her, and asked if he could +not obtain admission into the island. Abricotina assured him this was +impossible, and therefore he had better forget all about it. While they +were thus conversing, they came to the bank of a large river. Abricotina +alighted with a nimble jump from the horse. + +“Farewell, sir,” said she to the prince, making a profound reverence; “I +wish you every happiness.” + +“And I,” said Leander, “wish that I may now and then have a small share +in your remembrance.” + +So saying, he galloped away and soon entered into the thickest part of +the wood, near a river, where he unbridled and unsaddled Gris-de-line; +then, putting on his little cap, wished himself in the Island of Calm +Delights, and his wish was immediately accomplished. + +The palace was of pure gold, and stood upon pillars of crystal and +precious stones, which represented the zodiac and all the wonders of +nature; all the arts and sciences; the sea, with all the variety of fish +therein contained; the earth, with all the various creatures which it +produces; the chases of Diana and her nymphs; the noble exercises of the +Amazons; the amusements of a country life; flocks of sheep with their +shepherds and dogs; the toils of agriculture, harvesting, gardening. And +among all this variety of representations there was neither man nor +boy to be seen--not so much as a little winged Cupid; so highly had the +princess been incensed against her inconstant husband as not to show the +least favor to his fickle sex. + +“Abricotina did not deceive me,” said Leander to himself; “they have +banished from hence the very idea of men; now let us see what they have +lost by it.” With that he entered into the palaces and at every step he +took he met with objects so wonderful that when he had once fixed his +eyes upon them he had much ado to take them off again. He viewed a +vast number of these apartments, some full of china, no less fine than +curious; others lined with porcelain, so delicate that the walls were +quite transparent. Coral, jasper, agates, and cornelians adorned the +rooms of state, and the presence-chamber was one entire mirror. The +throne was one great pearl, hollowed like a shell; the princess sat, +surrounded by her maidens, none of whom could compare with herself. In +her was all the innocent sweetness of youth, joined to the dignity of +maturity; in truth, she was perfection; and so thought the invisible +Leander. + +Not seeing Abricotina, she asked where she was. Upon that, Leander, +being very desirous to speak, assumed the tone of a parrot, for there +were many in the room, and addressed himself invisibly to the princess. + +“Most charming princess,” said he, “Abricotina will return immediately. +She was in great danger of being carried away from this place but for a +young prince who rescued her.” + +The princess was surprised at the parrot, his answer was so extremely +pertinent. + +“You are very rude, little parrot,” said the princess; “and Abricotina, +when she comes, shall chastise you for it.” + +“I shall not be chastised,” answered Leander, still counterfeiting the +parrot's voice; “moreover, she will let you know the great desire that +stranger had to be admitted into this palace, that he might convince +you of the falsehood of those ideas which you have conceived against his +sex.” + +“In truth, pretty parrot,” cried the princess, “it is a pity you are not +every day so diverting; I should love you dearly.” + +“Ah! if prattling will please you, princess,” replied Leander, “I will +prate from morning till night.” + +“But,” continued the princess, “how shall I be sure my parrot is not a +sorcerer?” + +“He is more in love than any sorcerer can be,” replied the prince. + +At this moment Abricotina entered the room, and falling at her lovely +mistress' feet, gave her a full account of what had befallen her, and +described the prince in the most glowing colors. + +“I should have hated all men,” added she, “had I not seen him! Oh, +madam, how charming he is! His air and all his behavior have something +in them so noble; and though whatever he spoke was infinitely pleasing, +yet I think I did well in not bringing him hither.” + +To this the princess said nothing, but she asked Abricotina a hundred +other questions concerning the prince; whether she knew his name, his +country, his birth, from whence he came, and whither he was going; and +after this she fell into a profound thoughtfulness. + +Leander observed everything, and continued to chatter as he had begun. + +“Abricotina is ungrateful, madam,” said he; “that poor stranger will die +for grief if he sees you not.” + +“Well, parrot, let him die,” answered the princess with a sigh; “and +since thou undertakest to reason like a person of wit, and not a little +bird, I forbid thee to talk to me any more of this unknown person.” + +Leander was overjoyed to find that Abricotina's and the parrot's +discourse had made such an impression on the princess. He looked upon +her with pleasure and delight. “Can it be,” said he to himself, “that +the masterpiece of nature, that the wonder of our age, should be +confined eternally in an island, and no mortal dare to approach her? +But,” continued he, “wherefore am I concerned that others are banished +hence, since I have the happiness to be with her, to hear and to admire +her; nay, more, to love her above all the women in the universe?” + +It was late, and the princess retired into a large room of marble and +porphyry, where several bubbling fountains, refreshed the air with an +agreeable coolness. As soon as she entered the music began, a sumptuous +supper was served up, and the birds from several aviaries on each side +of the room, of which Abricotina had the chief care, opened their little +throats in the most agreeable manner. + +Leander had traveled a journey long enough to give him a good appetite, +which made him draw near the table, where the very smell of such viands +was agreeable and refreshing. The princess had a curious tabby-cat, for +which she had a great kindness. This cat one of the maids of honor held +in her arms, saying, “Madam, Bluet is hungry!” With that a chair was +presently brought for the cat; for he was a cat of quality, and had a +necklace of pearl about his neck. He was served on a golden plate with +a laced napkin before him; and the plate being supplied with meat, Bluet +sat with the solemn importance of an alderman. + +“Ho! ho!” cried Leander to himself; “an idle tabby malkin, that perhaps +never caught a mouse in his life, and I dare say is not descended from +a better family than myself, has the honor to sit at table with my +mistress: I would fain know whether he loves her so well as I do.” + +Saying this, he placed himself in the chair with the cat upon his +knee, for nobody saw him, because he had his little red cap on; finding +Bluet's plate well supplied with partridge, quails, and pheasants, +he made so free with them that whatever was set before Master Puss +disappeared in a trice. The whole court said no cat ever ate with +a better appetite. There were excellent ragouts, and the prince made +use of the cat's paw to taste them; but he sometimes pulled his paw +too roughly, and Bluet, not understanding raillery, began to mew and be +quite out of patience. The princess observing it, “Bring that fricassee +and that tart to poor Bluet,” said she; “see how he cries to have them.” + +Leander laughed to himself at the pleasantness of this adventure; but he +was very thirsty, not being accustomed to make such large meals without +drinking. By the help of the cat's paw he got a melon, with which he +somewhat quenched his thirst; and when supper was quite over, he went to +the buffet and took two bottles of delicious wine. + +The princess now retired into her boudoir, ordering Abricotina to follow +her and make fast the door; but they could not keep out Leander, who was +there as soon as they. However, the princess, believing herself alone +with her confidante: + +“Abricotina,” said she, “tell me truly, did you exaggerate in your +description of the unknown prince, for methinks it is impossible he +should be as amiable as you say?” + +“Madam,” replied the damsel, “if I have failed in anything, it was in +coming short of what was due to him.” + +The princess sighed and was silent for a time; then resuming her speech: +“I am glad,” said she, “thou didst not bring him with thee.” + +“But, madam,” answered Abricotina, who was a cunning girl, and already +penetrated her mistress' thoughts, “suppose he had come to admire the +wonders of these beautiful mansions, what harm could he have done us? +Will you live eternally unknown in a corner of the world, concealed +from the rest of human kind? Of what use is all your grandeur, pomp, +magnificence, if nobody sees it?” + +“Hold thy peace, prattler,” replied the princess, “and do not disturb +that happy repose which I have enjoyed so long.” + +Abricotina durst make no reply; and the princess, having waited her +answer for some time, asked her whether she had anything to say. +Abricotina then said she thought it was to very little purpose her +mistress having sent her picture to the courts of several princes, where +it only served to make those who saw it miserable; that every one would +be desirous to marry her, and as she could not marry them all, indeed +none of them, it would make them desperate. + +“Yet, for all that,” said the princess, “I could wish my picture were in +the hands of this same stranger.” + +“Oh, madam,” answered Abricotina, “is not his desire to see you violent +enough already? Would you augment it?” + +“Yes,” cried the princess; “a certain impulse of vanity, which I was +never sensible of till now, has bred this foolish fancy in me.” + +Leander heard all this discourse, and lost not a tittle of what she +said; some of her expressions gave him hope, others absolutely destroyed +it. The princess presently asked Abricotina whether she had seen +anything extraordinary during her short travels. + +“Madam,” said she, “I passed through one forest where I saw certain +creatures that resembled little children: they skip and dance upon the +trees like squirrels; they are very ugly, but have wonderful agility and +address.” + +“I wish I had one of them,” said the princess; “but if they are so +nimble as you say they are, it is impossible to catch one.” + +Leander, who passed through the same forest, knew what Abricotina meant, +and presently wished himself in the place. He caught a dozen of little +monkeys, some bigger, some less, and all of different colors, and with +much ado put them into a large sack; then, wishing himself at Paris, +where, he had heard, a man might have everything for money, he went and +bought a little gold chariot. He taught six green monkeys to draw it; +they were harnessed with fine traces of flame-colored morocco leather. +He went to another place, where he met with two monkeys of merit, +the most pleasant of which was called Briscambril, the other +Pierceforest--both very spruce and well educated. He dressed Briscambril +like a king and placed him in the coach; Pierceforest he made the +coachman; the others were dressed like pages; all which he put into his +sack, coach and all. + +The princess not being gone to bed, heard a rumbling of a little coach +in the long gallery; at the same time, her ladies came to tell her that +the king of the dwarfs was arrived, and the chariot immediately entered +her chamber with all the monkey train. The country monkeys began to +show a thousand tricks, which far surpassed those of Briscambril and +Pierceforest. To say the truth, Leander conducted the whole machine. He +drew the chariot where Briscambril sat arrayed as a king, and making +him hold a box of diamonds in his hand, he presented it with a becoming +grace to the princess. The princess' surprise may be easily imagined. +Moreover, Briscambril made a sign for Pierceforest to come and dance +with him. The most celebrated dancers were not to be compared with them +in activity. But the princess, troubled that she could not guess from +whence this curious present came, dismissed the dancers sooner than she +would otherwise have done, though she was extremely pleased with them. + +Leander, satisfied with having seen the delight the princess had taken +in beholding the monkeys, thought of nothing now but to get a little +repose, which he greatly wanted. He stayed sometime in the great +gallery; afterward, going down a pair of stairs, and finding a door +open, he entered into an apartment the most delightful that ever was +seen. There was in it a bed of cloth-of-gold, enriched with pearls, +intermixed with rubies and emeralds: for by this time there appeared +daylight sufficient for him to view and admire the magnificence of this +sumptuous furniture. Having made fast the door, he composed himself to +sleep. Next day he rose very early, and looking about on every side, +he spied a painter's pallet, with colors ready prepared and pencils. +Remembering what the princess had said to Abricotina touching her +own portrait, he immediately (for he could paint as well as the most +excellent masters) seated himself before a mirror and drew his own +picture first; then, in an oval, that of the princess. He had all her +features so strong in his imagination that he had no occasion for her +sitting; and as his desire to please her had set him to work, never did +portrait bear a stronger resemblance. He had painted himself upon one +knee, holding the princess' picture in one hand, and in the other a +label with this inscription, “She is better in my heart.” When the +princess went into her cabinet, she was amazed to see the portrait of +a man; and she fixed her eyes upon it with so much the more surprise, +because she also saw her own with it, and because the words which +were written upon the label afforded her ample room for curiosity. She +persuaded herself that it was Abricotina's doing; and all she desired +to know was whether the portrait was real or imaginary. Rising in haste, +she called Abricotina, while the invisible Leander, with his little +red cap, slipped into the cabinet, impatient to know what passed. The +princess bade Abricotina look upon the picture and tell her what she +thought of it. + +After she had viewed it, “I protest!” said she, “'tis the picture of +that generous stranger to whom I am indebted for my life. Yes, yes, I am +sure it is he; his very features, shape, and hair.” + +“Thou pretendest surprise,” said the princess, “but I know it was thou +thyself who put it there.” + +“Who! I, madam?” replied Abricotina. “I protest I never saw the picture +before in my life. Should I be so bold as to conceal from your knowledge +a thing that so nearly concerns you? And by what miracle could I come by +it? I never could paint, nor did any man ever enter this place; yet here +he is painted with you?” + +“Some spirit, then, must have brought it hither,” cried the princess. + +“How I tremble for fear, madam!” said Abricotina. “Was it not rather +some lover? And therefore, if you will take my advice, let us burn it +immediately.” + +“'Twere a pity to burn it,” cried the princess, sighing; “a finer piece, +methinks, cannot adorn my cabinet.” And saying these words, she cast her +eyes upon it. But Abricotina continued obstinate in her opinion that +it ought to be burned, as a thing that could not come there but by the +power of magic. + +“And these words--'She is better in my heart,'” said the princess; +“must we burn them too?” + +“No favor must be shown to anything,” said Abricotina, “not even to your +own portrait.” + +Abricotina ran away immediately for some fire, while the princess went +to look out at the window. Leander, unwilling to let his performance be +burned, took this opportunity to convey it away without being perceived. +He had hardly quitted the cabinet, when the princess turned about to +look once more upon that enchanting picture, which had so delighted her. +But how was she surprised to find it gone! She sought for it all the +room over; and Abricotina, returning, was no less surprised than her +mistress; so that this last adventure put them both in the most terrible +fright. + +Leander took great delight in hearing and seeing his incomparable +mistress; even though he had to eat every day at her table with the +tabby-cat, who fared never the worse for that; but his satisfaction was +far from being complete, seeing he durst neither speak nor show himself; +and he knew it was not a common thing for ladies to fall in love with +persons invisible. + +The princess had a universal taste for amusement. One day, she was +saying to her attend-ants that it would give her great pleasure to know +how the ladies were dressed in all the courts of the universe. There +needed no more words to send Leander all over the world. He wished +himself in China, where he bought the richest stuffs he could lay his +hands on, and got patterns of all the court fashions. From thence he +flew to Siam, where he did the same; in three days he traveled over +all the four parts of the world, and from time to time brought what +he bought to the Palace of Calm Delights, and hid it all in a chamber, +which he kept always locked. When he had thus collected together all the +rarities he could meet with--for he never wanted money, his rose always +supplying him--he went and bought five or six dozen of dolls, which he +caused to be dressed at Paris, the place in the world where most +regard is paid to fashions. They were all dressed differently, and as +magnificent as could be, and Leander placed them all in the princess' +closet. When she entered it, she was agreeably surprised to see such +company of little mutes, every one decked with watches bracelets, +diamond buckles, or necklaces; and the most remarkable of them held a +picture box in its hand, which the princess opening, found it contained +Leander's portrait. She gave a loud shriek, and looking upon Abricotina, +“There have appeared of late,” said she, “so many wonders in this place, +that I know not what to think of them: my birds are all grown witty; I +cannot so much as wish, but presently I have my desires; twice have I +now seen the portrait of him who rescued thee from the ruffians; and +here are silks of all sorts, diamonds, embroideries, laces, and an +infinite number of other rarities. What fairy is it that takes such care +to pay me these agreeable civilities?” + +Leander was overjoyed to hear and see her so much interested about his +picture, and calling to mind that there was in a grotto which she often +frequented a certain pedestal, on which a Diana, not yet finished, was +to be erected, on this pedestal he resolved to place himself, crowned +with laurel, and holding a lyre in his hand, on which he played like +another Apollo. He most anxiously waited the princess' retiring to the +grotto, which she did every day since her thoughts had taken up with +this unknown person; for what Abricotina had said, joined to the sight +of the picture, had almost destroyed her repose: her lively humor +changed into a pensive melancholy, and she grew a great lover of +solitude. When she entered the grotto, she made a sign that nobody +should follow her, so that her young damsels dispersed themselves into +the neighboring walks. The princess threw herself upon a bank of green +turf, sighed, wept, and even talked, but so softly that Leander could +not hear what she said. He had put his red cap on, that she might not +see him at first; but having taken it off, she beheld him standing on +the pedestal. At first she took him for a real statue, for he observed +exactly the attitude in which he had placed himself, without moving so +much as a finger. She beheld with a kind of pleasure intermixed with +fear, but pleasure soon dispelled her fear, and she continued to view +the pleasing figure, which so exactly resembled life. The prince having +tuned his lyre, began to play; at which the princess, greatly surprised, +could not resist the fear that seized her; she grew pale and fell into +a swoon. Leander leaped from the pedestal, and putting on his little red +cap, that he might not be perceived, took the princess in his arms and +gave her all the assistance that his zeal and tenderness could inspire. +At length she opened her charming eyes and looked about in search of +him, but she could perceive nobody; yet she felt somebody who held her +hands, kissed them, and bedewed them with his tears. It was a long time +before she durst speak, and her spirits were in a confused agitation +between fear and hope. She was afraid of the spirit, but loved the +figure of the unknown. At length she said: “Courtly invisible, why are +you not the person I desire you should be?” At these words Leander was +going to declare himself, but durst not do it yet. “For,” thought he, +“if I again affright the object I adore and make her fear me, she will +not love me.” This consideration caused him to keep silence. + +The princess, then, believing herself alone, called Abricotina and told +her all the wonders of the animated statue; that it had played divinely, +and that the invisible person had given her great assistance when she +lay in a swoon. + +“What pity 'tis,” said she, “that this person should be so frightful, +for nothing can be more amiable or acceptable than his behavior!” + +“Who told you, madam,” answered Abricotina, “that he is frightful? If he +is the youth who saved me, he is beautiful as Cupid himself.” + +“If Cupid and the unknown are the same,” replied the princess, blushing, +“I could be content to love Cupid; but alas! how far am I from such a +happiness! I love a mere shadow; and this fatal picture, joined to what +thou hast told me, have inspired me with inclinations so contrary to the +precepts which I received from my mother that I am daily afraid of being +punished for them.” + +“Oh! madam,” said Abricotina, interrupting her, “have you not troubles +enough already? Why should you anticipate afflictions which may never +come to pass?” + +It is easy to imagine what pleasure Leander took in this conversation. + +In the meantime the little Furibon, still enamored of the princess +whom he had never seen, expected with impatience the return of the four +servants whom he had sent to the Island of Calm Delights. One of them at +last came back, and after he had given the prince a particular account +of what had passed, told him that the island was defended by Amazons, +and that unless he sent a very powerful army, it would be impossible to +get into it. The king his father was dead, and Furibon was now lord +of all: disdaining, therefore, any repulse, he raised an army of four +hundred thousand men, and put himself at the head of them, appearing +like another Tom Thumb upon a war-horse. Now, when the Amazons perceived +his mighty host, they gave the princess notice of its who immediately +dispatched away her trusty Abricotina to the kingdom of the fairies, +to beg her mother's instructions as to what she should do to drive the +little Furibon from her territories. But Abricotina found the fairy in +an angry humor. + +“Nothing that my daughter does,” said she, “escapes my knowledge. +The Prince Leander is now in her palace; he loves her, and she has a +tenderness for him. All my cares and precepts have not been able to +guard her from the tyranny of love, and she is now under its fatal +dominion. But it is the decree of destiny, and I must submit; therefore, +Abricotina, begone! nor let me hear a word more of a daughter whose +behavior has so much displeased me.” + +Abricotina returned with these ill tidings, whereat the princess was +almost distracted; and this was soon perceived by Leander, who was near +her, though she did not see him. He beheld her grief with the greatest +pain. However, he durst not then open his lips; but recollecting that +Furibon was exceedingly covetous, he thought that, by giving him a sum +of money, he might perhaps prevail with him to retire. Thereupon, he +dressed himself like an Amazon, and wished himself in the forest, to +catch his horse. He had no sooner called him than Gris-de-line came +leaping, prancing, and neighing for joy, for he was grown quite weary +of being so long absent from his dear master; but when he beheld him +dressed as a woman he hardly knew him. However, at the sound of his +voice, he suffered the prince to mount, and they soon arrived in the +camp at Furibon, where they gave notice that a lady was come to speak +with him from the Princess of Calm Delights. Immediately the little +fellow put on his royal robes, and having placed himself upon his +throne, he looked like a great toad counterfeiting a king. + +Leander harangued him, and told him that the princess, preferring a +quiet and peaceable life to the fatigues of war, had sent to offer his +majesty as much money as he pleased to demand, provided he would suffer +her to continue in peace; but if he refused her proposal, she would omit +no means that might serve for her defense. Furibon replied that he took +pity on her, and would grant her the honor of his protection; but that +he demanded a hundred thousand millions of pounds, and without which he +would not return to his kingdom. Leander answered that such a vast sum +would be too long a-counting, and therefore, if he would say how many +rooms full he desired to have, the princess was generous and rich enough +to satisfy him. Furibon was astonished to hear that, instead of +entreating, she would rather offer more; and it came into his wicked +mind to take all the money he could get, and then seize the Amazon and +kill her, that she might never return to her mistress. He told Leander, +therefore, that he would have thirty chambers of gold, all full to the +ceiling. Leander, being conducted into the chambers, took his rose and +shook it, till every room was filled with all sorts of coin. Furibon was +in an ecstasy, and the more gold he saw the greater was his desire +to get hold of the Amazon; so that when all the rooms were full, +he commanded his guards to seize her, alleging she had brought him +counterfeit money. Immediately Leander put on his little red cap and +disappeared. The guards, believing that the lady had escaped, ran +out and left Furibon alone; when Leander, availing himself of the +opportunity, took the tyrant by the hair, and twisted his head off with +the same ease he would a pullet's; nor did the little wretch of a king +see that hand that killed him. + +Leander having got his enemy's head, wished himself in the Palace of +Calm Delights, where he found the princess walking, and with grief +considering the message which her mother had sent her, and on the means +to repel Furibon. + +Suddenly she beheld a head hanging in the air, with nobody to hold it. +This prodigy astonished her so that she could not tell what to think of +it; but her amazement was increased when she saw the head laid at her +feet, and heard a voice utter these words: + + “Charming Princess, cease your fear + Of Furibon; whose head see here.” + +Abricotina, knowing Leander's voice, cried: + +“I protest, madam, the invisible person who speaks is the very stranger +that rescued me.” + +The princess seemed astonished, but yet pleased. + +“Oh,” said she, “if it be true that the invisible and the stranger +are the same person, I confess I shall be glad to make him my +acknowledgments.” + +Leander, still invisible, replied, “I will yet do more to deserve them;” + and so saying he returned to Furibon's army, where the report of the +king's death was already spread throughout the camp. As soon as Leander +appeared there in his usual habit, everybody knew him; all the officers +and soldiers surrounded him, uttering the loudest acclamations of joy. +In short, they acknowledged him for their king, and that the crown of +right belonged to him, for which he thanked them, and, as the first +mark of his royal bounty, divided the thirty rooms of gold among the +soldiers. This done he returned to his princess, ordering his army to +march back into his kingdom. + +The princess was gone to bed. Leander, therefore, retired into his own +apartment, for he was very sleepy--so sleepy that he forgot to bolt his +door; and so it happened that the princess, rising early to taste the +morning air, chanced to enter into this very chamber, and was astonished +to find a young prince asleep upon the bed. She took a full view of him, +and was convinced that he was the person whose picture she had in +her diamond box. “It is impossible,” said she, “that this should be a +spirit; for can spirits sleep? Is this a body composed of air and fire, +without substance, as Abricotina told me?” She softly touched his hair, +and heard him breathe, and looked at him as if she could have looked +forever. While she was thus occupied, her mother, the fairy entered with +such a noise that Leander started out of his sleep. But how deeply +was he afflicted to behold his beloved princess in the most deplorable +condition! Her mother dragged her by the hair and loaded her with a +thousand bitter reproaches. In what grief and consternation were the two +young lovers, who saw themselves now upon the point of being separated +forever! The princess durst not open her lips, but cast her eyes upon +Leander, as if to beg his assistance. He judged rightly that he ought +not to deal rudely with a power superior to his own, and therefore he +sought, by his eloquence and submission, to move the incensed fairy. +He ran to her, threw himself at her feet, and besought her to have pity +upon a young prince who would never change in his affection for her +daughter. The princess, encouraged, also embraced her mother's knees, +and declared that without Leander she should never be happy. + +“Happy!” cried the fairy; “you know not the miseries of love nor the +treacheries of which lovers are capable. They bewitch us only to poison +our lives; I have known it by experience; and will you suffer the same?” + +“Is there no exception, madam?” replied Leander, and his countenance +showed him to be one. + +But neither tears nor entreaties could move the implacable fairy; and +it is very probable that she would have never pardoned them, had not the +lovely Gentilla appeared at that instant in the chamber, more brilliant +than the sun. Embracing the old fairy: + +“Dear sister,” said she, “I am persuaded you cannot have forgotten the +good office I did you when, after your unhappy marriage, you besought +a readmittance into Fairyland; since then I never desired any favor +at your hands, but now the time is come. Pardon, then, this lovely +princess; consent to her nuptials with this young prince. I will engage +he shall be ever constant to her; the thread of their days shall be spun +of gold and silk; they shall live to complete your happiness; and I will +never forget the obligation you lay upon me.” + +“Charming Gentilla,” cried the fairy, “I consent to whatever you desire. +Come, my dear children, and receive my love.” So saying, she embraced +them both. + +Abricotina, just then entering, cast her eyes upon Leander; she knew +him again, and saw he was perfectly happy, at which she, too, was quite +satisfied. + +“Prince,” condescendingly said the fairy-mother, “I will remove the +Island of Calm Delights into your own kingdom, live with you myself, and +do you great services.” + +Whether or not Prince Leander appreciated this offer, he bowed low, and +assured his mother-in-law that no favor could be equal to the one he +had that day received from her hands. This short compliment pleased the +fairy exceedingly, for she belonged to those ancient days when people +used to stand a whole day upon one leg complimenting one another. The +nuptials were performed in a most splendid manner, and the young prince +and princess lived together happily many years, beloved by all around +them. + + + + +PRINCE CHERRY + +LONG ago there lived a monarch, who was such a very, honest man that his +subjects entitled him the Good King. One day, when he was out hunting, +a little white rabbit, which had been half-killed by his hounds, +leaped right into his majesty's arms. Said he, caressing it: “This poor +creature has put itself under my protection, and I will allow no one to +injure it.” So he carried it to his palace, had prepared for it a neat +little rabbit-hutch, with abundance of the daintiest food, such as +rabbits love, and there he left it. + +The same night, when he was alone in his chamber, there appeared to +him a beautiful lady. She was dressed neither in gold, nor silver, +nor brocade; but her flowing robes were white as snow, and she wore a +garland of white roses on her head. The Good King was greatly astonished +at the sight; for his door was locked, and he wondered how so dazzling a +lady could possibly enter; but she soon removed his doubts. + +“I am the fairy Candide,” said she, with a smiling and gracious air. +“Passing through the wood where you were hunting, I took a desire to +know if you were as good as men say you are I therefore changed myself +into a white rabbit and took refuge in your arms. You saved me and now I +know that those who are merciful to dum beasts will be ten times more so +to human beings. You merit the name your subjects give you: you are the +Good King. I thank you for your protection, and shall be always one +of your best friends. You have but to say what you most desire, and I +promise you your wish shall be granted.” + +“Madam,” replied the king, “if you are a fairy, you must know, without +my telling you, the wish of my heart. I have one well-beloved son, +Prince Cherry: whatever kindly feeling you have toward me, extend it to +him.” + +“Willingly,” said Candide. “I will make him the handsomest, richest, or +most powerful prince in the world: choose whichever you desire for him.” + +“None of the three,” returned the father. “I only wish him to be +good--the best prince in the whole world. Of what use would riches, +power, or beauty be to him if he were a bad man?” + +“You are right,” said the fairy; “but I can not make him good: he +must do that himself. I can only change his external fortunes; for +his personal character, the utmost I can promise is to give him good +counsel, reprove him for his faults, and even punish him, if he will not +punish himself. You mortals can do the same with your children.” + +“Ah, yes!” said the king, sighing. Still, he felt that the kindness of a +fairy was something gained for his son, and died not long after, content +and at peace. + +Prince Cherry mourned deeply, for he dearly loved his father, and would +have gladly given all his kingdoms and treasures to keep him in life a +little longer. Two days after the Good King was no more, Prince Cherry +was sleeping in his chamber, when he saw the same dazzling vision of the +fairy Candide. + +“I promised your father,” said she, “to be your best friend, and in +pledge of this take what I now give you;” and she placed a small gold +ring upon his finger. “Poor as it looks, it is more precious than +diamonds; for whenever you do ill it will prick your finger. If, after +that warning, you still continue in evil, you will lose my friendship, +and I shall become your direst enemy.”' + +So saying, she disappeared, leaving Cherry in such amazement that he +would have believed it all a dream, save for the ring on his finger. + +He was for a long time so good that the ring never pricked him at all; +and this made him so cheerful and pleasant in his humor that everybody +called him “Happy Prince Cherry.” But one unlucky day he was out hunting +and found no sport, which vexed him so much that he showed his ill +temper by his looks and ways. He fancied his ring felt very tight and +uncomfortable, but as it did not prick him he took no heed of this: +until, re-entering his palace, his little pet dog, Bibi, jumped up +upon him and was sharply told to get away. The creature, accustomed to +nothing but caresses, tried to attract his attention by pulling at his +garments, when Prince Cherry turned and gave it a severe kick. At this +moment he felt in his finger a prick like a pin. + +“What nonsense!” said he to himself. “The fairy must be making game of +me. Why, what great evil have I done! I, the master of a great empire, +cannot I kick my own dog?” + +A voice replied, or else Prince Cherry imagined it, “No, sire; the +master of a great empire has a right to do good, but not evil. I--a +fairy--am as much above you as you are above your dog. I might punish +you, kill you, if I chose; but I prefer leaving you to amend your +ways. You have been guilty of three faults today--bad temper, passion, +cruelty: do better to-morrow.” + +The prince promised, and kept his word a while; but he had been brought +up by a foolish nurse, who indulged him in every way and was always +telling him that he would be a king one day, when he might do as he +liked in all things. He found out now that even a king cannot always do +that; it vexed him and made him angry. His ring began to prick him so +often that his little finger was continually bleeding. He disliked +this, as was natural, and soon began to consider whether it would not be +easier to throw the ring away altogether than to be constantly annoyed +by it. It was such a queer thing for a king to have a spot of blood on +his finger! At last, unable to put up with it any more, he took his ring +off and hid it where he would never see it; and believed himself the +happiest of men, for he could now do exactly what he liked. He did it, +and became every day more and more miserable. + +One day he saw a young girl, so beautiful that, being always accustomed +to have his own way, he immediately determined to espouse her. He never +doubted that she would be only too glad to be made a queen, for she +was very poor. But Zelia--that was her name--answered, to his great +astonishment, that she would rather not marry him. + +“Do I displease you?” asked the prince, into whose mind it had never +entered that he could displease anybody. + +“Not at all, my prince,” said the honest peasant maiden. “You are very +handsome, very charming; but you are not like your father the Good King. +I will not be your queen, for you would make me miserable.” + +At these words the prince's love seemed all to turn to hatred: he gave +orders to his guards to convey Zelia to a prison near the palace, +and then took counsel with his foster brother, the one of all his ill +companions who most incited him to do wrong. + +“Sir,” said this man, “if I were in your majesty's place, I would never +vex myself about a poor silly girl. Feed her on bread and water till +she comes to her senses; and if she still refuses you, let her die in +torment, as a warning to your other subjects should they venture to +dispute your will. You will be disgraced should you suffer yourself to +be conquered by a simple girl.” + +“But,” said Prince Cherry, “shall I not be disgraced if I harm a +creature so perfectly innocent?” + +“No one is innocent who disputes your majesty's authority,” said the +courtier, bowing; “and it is better to commit an injustice than allow it +to be supposed you can ever be contradicted with impunity.” + +This touched Cherry on his weak point--his good impulses faded; he +resolved once more to ask Zelia if she would marry him, and if she again +refused, to sell her as a slave. Arrived at the cell in which she was +confined, what was his astonishment to find her gone! He knew not whom +to accuse, for he had kept the key in his pocket the whole time. At +last, the foster-brother suggested that the escape of Zelia might have +been contrived by an old man, Suliman by name, the prince's former +tutor, who was the only one who now ventured to blame him for anything +that he did. Cherry sent immediately, and ordered his old friend to be +brought to him, loaded heavily with irons. Then, full of fury, he went +and shut himself up in his own chamber, where he went raging to and fro, +till startled by a noise like a clap of thunder. The fairy Candide stood +before him. + +“Prince,” said she, in a severe voice, “I promised your father to give +you good counsels and to punish you if you refused to follow them. My +counsels were forgotten, my punishment despised. Under the figure of a +man, you have been no better than the beasts you chase: like a lion in +fury, a wolf in gluttony, a serpent in revenge, and a bull in brutality. +Take, therefore, in your new form the likeness of all these animals.” + +Scarcely had Prince Cherry heard these words than to his horror he found +himself transformed into what the Fairy had named. He was a creature +with the head of a lion, the horns of a bull, the feet of a wolf, and +the tail of a serpent. At the same time he felt himself transported to +a distant forest, where, standing on the bank of a stream, he saw +reflected in the water his own frightful shape, and heard a voice +saying: + +“Look at thyself, and know thy soul has become a thousand times uglier +even than thy body.” + +Cherry recognized the voice of Candide, and in his rage would have +sprung upon her and devoured her; but he saw nothing and the same voice +said behind him: + +“Cease thy feeble fury, and learn to conquer thy pride by being in +submission to thine own subjects.” + +Hearing no more, he soon quitted the stream, hoping at least to get rid +of the sight of himself; but he had scarcely gone twenty paces when he +tumbled into a pitfall that was laid to catch bears; the bear-hunters, +descending from some trees hard by, caught him, chained him, and only +too delighted to get hold of such a curious-looking animal, led him +along with them to the capital of his own kingdom. + +There great rejoicings were taking place, and the bear-hunters, asking +what it was all about, were told that it was because Prince Cherry, +the torment of his subjects, had just been struck dead by a +thunderbolt--just punishment of all his crimes. Four courtiers, his +wicked companions, had wished to divide his throne between them; but the +people had risen up against them and offered the crown to Suliman, the +old tutor whom Cherry had ordered to be arrested. + +All this the poor monster heard. He even saw Suliman sitting upon his +own throne and trying to calm the populace by representing to them that +it was not certain Prince Cherry was dead; that he might return one day +to reassume with honor the crown which Suliman only consented to wear as +a sort of viceroy. + +“I know his heart,” said the honest and faithful old man; “it is +tainted, but not corrupt. If alive, he may reform yet, and be all his +father over again to you, his people, whom he has caused to suffer so +much.” + +These words touched the poor beast so deeply that he ceased to beat +himself against the iron bars of the cage in which the hunters carried +him about, became gentle as a lamb, and suffered himself to be taken +quietly to a menagerie, where were kept all sorts of strange and +ferocious animals a place which he had himself often visited as a boy, +but never thought he should be shut up there himself. + +However, he owned he had deserved it all, and began to make amends by +showing himself very obedient to his keeper. This man was almost as +great a brute as the animals he had charge of, and when he was in ill +humor he used to beat them without rhyme or reason. One day, while he +was sleeping, a tiger broke loose and leaped upon him, eager to devour +him. Cherry at first felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought of being +revenged; then, seeing how helpless the man was, he wished himself free, +that he might defend him. Immediately the doors of his cage opened. +The keeper, waking up, saw the strange beast leap out, and imagined, of +course, that he was going to be slain at once. Instead, he saw the tiger +lying dead, and the strange beast creeping up and laying itself at his +feet to be caressed. But as he lifted up his hand to stroke it, a voice +was heard saying, “Good actions never go unrewarded;” and instead of +the frightful monster, there crouched on the ground nothing but a pretty +little dog. + +Cherry, delighted to find himself thus metamorphosed, caressed the +keeper in every possible way, till at last the man took him up into +his arms and carried him to the king, to whom he related this wonderful +story, from beginning to end. The queen wished to have the charming +little dog; and Cherry would have been exceedingly happy could he have +forgotten that he was originally a man and a king. He was lodged most +elegantly, had the richest of collars to adorn his neck, and heard +himself praised continually. But his beauty rather brought him into +trouble, for the queen, afraid lest he might grow too large for a pet, +took advice of dog-doctors, who ordered that he should be fed entirely +upon bread, and that very sparingly; so poor Cherry was sometimes nearly +starved. + +One day, when they gave him his crust for breakfast, a fancy seized him +to go and eat it in the palace garden; so he took the bread in his mouth +and trotted away toward a stream which he knew, and where he sometimes +stopped to drink. But instead of the stream he saw a splendid palace, +glittering with gold and precious stones. Entering the doors was a crowd +of men and women, magnificently dressed; and within there was singing +and dancing and good cheer of all sorts. Yet, however grandly and gayly +the people went in, Cherry noticed that those who came out were pale, +thin, ragged, half-naked, covered with wounds and sores. Some of them +dropped dead at once; others dragged themselves on a little way and +then lay down, dying of hunger, and vainly begged a morsel of bread from +others who were entering in--who never took the least notice of them. + +Cherry perceived one woman, who was trying feebly to gather and eat some +green herbs. “Poor thing!” said he to himself; “I know what it is to be +hungry, and I want my breakfast badly enough; but still it will kill me +to wait till dinner time, and my crust may save the life of this poor +woman.” + +So the little dog ran up to her and dropped his bread at her feet; she +picked it up and ate it with avidity. Soon she looked quite recovered, +and Cherry, delighted, was trotting back again to his kennel, when he +heard loud cries, and saw a young girl dragged by four men to the door +of the palace, which they were trying to compel her to enter. Oh, how +he wished himself a monster again, as when he slew the tiger!--for the +young girl was no other than his beloved Zelia. Alas! what could a poor +little dog do to defend her? But he ran forward and barked at the men, +and bit their heels, until at last they chased him away with heavy +blows. And then he lay down outside the palace door, determined to watch +and see what had become of Zelia. + +Conscience pricked him now. “What!” thought he, “I am furious against +these wicked men, who are carrying her away; and did I not do the same +myself? Did I not cast her into prison, and intend to sell her as a +slave? Who knows how much more wickedness I might not have done to her +and others, if Heaven's justice had not stopped me in time?” + +While he lay thinking and repenting, he heard a window open and saw +Zelia throw out of it a bit of dainty meat. Cherry, who felt hungry +enough by this time, was just about to eat it, when the woman to whom he +had given his crust snatched him up in her arms. + +“Poor little beast!” cried she, patting him, “every bit of food in that +palace is poisoned: you shall not touch a morsel.” + +And at the same time the voice in the air repeated again, “Good actions +never go unrewarded;” and Cherry found himself changed into a beautiful +little white pigeon. He remembered with joy that white was the color of +the fairy Candide, and began to hope that she was taking him into favor +again. + +So he stretched his wings, delighted that he might now have a chance +of approaching his fair Zelia. He flew up to the palace windows, and, +finding one of them open, entered and sought everywhere, but he could +not find Zelia. Then, in despair, he flew out again, resolved to go over +the world until he beheld her once more. + +He took flight at once and traversed many countries, swiftly as a bird +can, but found no trace of his beloved. At length in a desert, sitting +beside an old hermit in his cave and par-taking with him his frugal +repast, Cherry saw a poor peasant girl and recognized Zelia. Transported +with joy, he flew in, perched on her shoulder, and expressed his delight +and affection by a thousand caresses. + +She, charmed with the pretty little pigeon, caressed it in her turn, and +promised it that if it would stay with her she would love it always. + +“What have you done, Zelia?” said the hermit, smiling; and while he +spoke the white pigeon vanished, and there stood Prince Cherry in his +own natural form. “Your enchantment ended, prince, when Zelia promised +to love you. Indeed, she has loved you always, but your many faults +constrained her to hide her love. These are now amended, and you may +both live happy if you will, because your union is founded upon mutual +esteem.” + +Cherry and Zelia threw themselves at the feet of the hermit, whose form +also began to change. His soiled garments became of dazzling whiteness, +and his long beard and withered face grew into the flowing hair and +lovely countenance of the fairy Candide. + +“Rise up, my children,” said she; “I must now transport you to your +palace and restore to Prince Cherry his father's crown, of which he is +now worthy.” + +She had scarcely ceased speaking when they found themselves in the +chamber of Suliman, who, delighted to find again his beloved pupil and +master, willingly resigned the throne, and became the most faithful of +his subjects. + +King Cherry and Queen Zelia reigned together for many years, and it is +said that the former was so blameless and strict in all his duties that +though he constantly wore the ring which Candide had restored to him, it +never once pricked his finger enough to make it bleed. + + + + +THE PRINCE WITH THE NOSE + +THERE was once a king who was passionately in love with a beautiful +princess, but she could not be married because a magician had +enchanted her. The king went to a good fairy to inquire what he should +do. Said the fairy, after receiving him graciously: “Sir, I will tell +you a great secret. The princess has a great cat whom she loves so well +that she cares for nothing and nobody else; but she will be obliged to +marry any person who is adroit enough to walk upon the cat's tail.” + +“That will not be very difficult,” thought the king to himself, and +departed, resolving to trample the cat's tail to pieces rather than not +succeed in walking upon it. He went immediately to the palace of his +fair mistress and the cat; the animal came in front of him, arching +its back in anger as it was wont to do. The king lifted up his foot, +thinking nothing would be so easy as to tread on the tail, but he found +himself mistaken. Minon--that was the creature's name--twisted itself +round so sharply that the king only hurt his own foot by stamping on the +floor. For eight days did he pursue the cat everywhere: up and down +the palace he was after it from morning till night, but with no better +success; the tail seemed made of quicksilver, so very lively was it. At +last the king had the good fortune to catch Minon sleeping, when tramp! +tramp! he trod on the tail with all his force. + +Minon woke up, mewed horribly, and immediately changed from a cat into a +large, fierce-looking man, who regarded the king with flashing eyes. + +“You must marry the princess,” cried he, “because you have broken the +enchantment in which I held her; but I will be revenged on you. You +shall have a son with a nose as long as--that;” he made in the air a +curve of half a foot; “yet he shall believe it is just like all other +noses, and shall be always unfortunate till he has found out it is not. +And if you ever tell anybody of this threat of mine, you shall die on +the spot.” So saying the magician disappeared. + +The king, who was at first much terrified, soon began to laugh at this +adventure. “My son might have a worse misfortune than too long a nose,” + thought he. “At least it will hinder him neither in seeing nor hearing. +I will go and find the princess and marry her at once.” + +He did so, but he only lived a few months after, and died before his +little son was born, so that nobody knew anything about the secret of +the nose. + +The little prince was so much wished for that when he came into the +world they agreed to call him Prince Wish. He had beautiful blue eyes +and a sweet little mouth, but his nose was so big that it covered half +his face. The queen, his mother, was inconsolable; but her ladies tried +to satisfy her by telling her that the nose was not nearly so large as +it seemed, that it would grow smaller as the prince grew bigger, and +that if it did not a large nose was indispensable to a hero. All great +soldiers, they said, had great noses, as everybody knew. The queen was +so very fond of her son that she listened eagerly to all this comfort. +Shortly she grew so used to the princes's nose that it did not seem to +her any larger than ordinary noses of the court; where, in process +of time, everybody with a long nose was very much admired, and the +unfortunate people who had only snubs were taken very little notice of. + +Great care was observed in the education of the prince; and as soon as +he could speak they told him all sorts of amusing tales, in which all +the bad people had short noses, and all the good people had long ones. +No person was suffered to come near him who had not a nose of more than +ordinary length; nay, to such an extent did the countries carry their +fancy, that the noses of all the little babies were ordered to be pulled +out as far as possible several times a day, in order to make them grow. +But grow as they would, they never could grow as long as that of Prince +Wish. When he was old enough his tutor taught him history; and whenever +any great king or lovely princess was referred to, the tutor always took +care to mention that he or she had a long nose. All the royal apartments +were filled with pictures and portraits having this peculiarity, so +that at last Prince Wish began to regard the length of his nose as his +greatest perfection, and would not have had it an inch less even to save +his crown. + +When he was twenty years old his mother and his people wished him to +marry. They procured for him the likenesses of many princesses, but the +one he preferred was Princess Darling, daughter of a powerful monarch +and heiress to several kingdoms. Alas! with all her beauty, this +princess had one great misfortune, a little turned-up nose, which, +every one else said made her only the more bewitching. But here, in the +kingdom of Prince Wish, the courtiers were thrown by it into the utmost +perplexity. They were in the habit of laughing at all small noses; but +how dared they make fun of the nose of Princess Darling? Two unfortunate +gentlemen, whom Prince Wish had overheard doing so, were ignominiously +banished from the court and capital. + +After this, the courtiers became alarmed, and tried to correct their +habit of speech; but they would have found themselves in constant +difficulties, had not one clever person struck out a bright idea. He +said that though it was indispensably necessary for a man to have +a great nose, women were very different; and that a learned man had +discovered in a very old manuscript that the celebrated Cleopatra, Queen +of Egypt, the beauty of the ancient world, had a turned-up nose. At this +information Prince Wish was so delighted that he made the courtier a +very handsome present, and immediately sent off ambassadors to demand +Princess Darling in marriage. + +She accepted his offer at once, and returned with the ambassadors. He +made all haste to meet and welcome her, but when she was only three +leagues distant from his capital, before he had time even to kiss her +hand, the magician who had once assumed the shape of his mother's cat, +Minon, appeared in the air and carried her off before the lover's very +eyes. + +Prince Wish, almost beside himself with grief, declared that nothing +should induce him to return to his throne and kingdom till he had found +Darling. He would suffer none of his courtiers or attendants to follow +him; but bidding them all adieu, mounted a good horse, laid the reins on +the animal's neck, and let him take him wherever he would. + +The horse entered a wide-extended plain, and trotted on steadily the +whole day without finding a single house. Master and beast began almost +to faint with hunger; and Prince Wish might have wished himself at home +again, had he not discovered, just at dusk, a cavern, where there sat, +beside a bright lantern, a little woman who might have been more than a +hundred years old. + +She put on her spectacles the better to look at the stranger, and he +noticed that her nose was so small that the spectacles would hardly +stay on; then the prince and the fairy--for she was a fairy--burst into +laughter. + +“What a funny nose!” cried the one. + +“Not so funny as yours, madam,” returned the other. “But pray let us +leave our noses alone, and be good enough to give me something to eat, +for I am dying with hunger, and so is my poor horse.” + +“With all my heart,” answered the fairy. “Although your nose is +ridiculously long, you are no less the son of one of my best friends. I +loved your father like a brother; he had a very handsome nose.” + +“What is wanting to my nose?” asked Wish rather savagely. + +“Oh! nothing at all. On the contrary, there is a great deal too much of +it; but never mind, one may be a very honest man, and yet have too big a +nose. As I said, I was a great friend of your father's; he came often to +see me. I was very pretty then, and oftentimes he used to say to me, 'My +sister----'” + +“I will hear the rest, madam, with pleasure, when I have supped; but +will you condescend to remember that I have tasted nothing all day?” + +“Poor boy,” said the fairy, “I will give you some supper directly; and +while you eat it I will tell you my history in six words, for I hate +much talking. A long tongue is as insupportable as a long nose; and I +remember when I was young how much I used to be admired because I was +not a talker; indeed, some one said to the queen my mother--for poor as +you see me now, I am the daughter of a great king, who always----” + +“Ate when he was hungry, I hope,” interrupted the prince, whose patience +was fast departing. + +“You are right,” said the imperturbable old fairy; “and I will bring +you your supper directly, only I wish first just to say that the king my +father----” + +“Hang the king your father!” Prince Wish was about to exclaim, but he +stopped himself, and only observed that however the pleasure of her +conversation might make him forget his hunger, it could not have the +same effect upon his horse, who was really starving. + +The fairy, pleased at his civility, called her servants and bade them +supply him at once with all he needed. “And,” added she, “I must say you +are very polite and very good-tempered, in spite of your nose.” + +“What has the old woman to do with my nose?” thought the prince. “If I +were not so very hungry, I would soon show her what she is--a regular +old gossip and chatterbox. She to fancy she talks little, indeed! One +must be very foolish not to know one's own defects. This comes of being +born a princess. Flatterers have spoiled her and persuaded her that she +talks little. Little, indeed! I never knew anybody chatter so much.” + +While the prince thus meditated, the servants were laying the table, +the fairy asking them a hundred unnecessary questions, simply for the +pleasure of hearing herself talk. “Well,” thought Wish, “I am delighted +that I came hither, if only to learn how wise I have been in never +listening to flatterers, who hide from us our faults, or make us believe +they are perfections. But they could never deceive me. I know all my own +weak points, I trust.” As truly he believed he did. + +So he went on eating contentedly, nor stopped till the old fairy began +to address him. + +“Prince,” said she, “will you be kind enough to turn a little? Your nose +casts such a shadow that I cannot see what is on my plate. And, as I was +saying, your father admired me and always made me welcome at court. What +is the court etiquette there now? Do the ladies still go to assemblies, +promenades, balls?--I beg your pardon for laughing, but how very long +your nose is.” + +“I wish you would cease to speak of my nose,” said the prince, becoming +annoyed. “It is what it is, and I do not desire it any shorter.” + +“Oh! I see that I have vexed you,” returned the fairy. “Nevertheless, +I am one of your best friends, and so I shall take the liberty of +always----” She would doubtless have gone on talking till midnight; but +the prince, unable to bear it any longer, here interrupted her, thanked +her for her hospitality, bade her a hasty adieu, and rode away. + +He traveled for a long time, half over the world, but he heard no news +of Princess Darling. However, in each place he went to, he heard one +remarkable fact--the great length of his own nose. The little boys in +the streets jeered at him, the peasants stared at him, and the more +polite ladies and gentlemen whom he met in society used to try in vain +to keep from laughing, and to get out of his way as soon as they could. +So the poor prince became gradually quite forlorn and solitary; he +thought all the world was mad, but still he never thought of there being +anything queer about his own nose. At last the old fairy, who, though +she was a chatterbox, was very good-natured; saw that he was almost +breaking his heart. She felt sorry for him and wished to help him in +spite of himself, for she knew the enchantment which hid from him the +Princess Darling could never be broken till he had discovered his own +defect. So she went in search of the princess, and being more powerful +than the magician, since she was a good fairy and he was an evil +magician, she got her away from him and shut her up in a palace of +crystal, which she placed on the road which Prince Wish had to pass. + +He was riding along, very melancholy, when he saw the palace; and at its +entrance was a room, made of the purest glass, in which sat his beloved +princess, smiling and beautiful as ever. He leaped from his horse and +ran toward her. She held out her hand for him to kiss, but he could +not get at it for the glass. Transported with eagerness and delight, he +dashed his sword through the crystal and succeeded in breaking a small +opening, to which she put up her beautiful rosy mouth. But it was in +vain; Prince Wish could not approach it. He twisted his neck about, and +turned his head on all sides, till at length, putting up his hand to his +face, he discovered the impediment. + +“It must be confessed,” exclaimed he, “that my nose is too long.” + +That moment the glass walls all split asunder, and the old fairy +appeared, leading Princess Darling. + +“Avow, prince,” said she, “that you are very much obliged to me, for now +the enchantment is ended. You may marry the object of your choice. But,” + added she, smiling, “I fear I might have talked to you forever on the +subject of your nose, and you would not have believed me in its length, +till it became an obstacle to your own inclinations. Now behold it!” and +she held up a crystal mirror. “Are you satisfied to be no different from +other people?” + +“Perfectly,” said Prince Wish, who found his nose had shrunk to an +ordinary length. And taking the Princess Darling by the hand, he kissed +her courteously, affectionately, and satisfactorily. Then they departed +to their own country, and lived very happily all their days. + + + + +THE FROG-PRINCE + +IN times of yore, when wishes were both heard and granted, lived a king +whose daughters were all beautiful but the youngest was so lovely that +the sun himself, who has seen so much, wondered at her beauty every +time he looked in her face. Now, near the king's castle was a large dark +forest; and in the forest, under an old linden tree, was a deep well. +When the day was very hot, the king's daughter used to go to the wood +and seat herself at the edge of the cool well; and when she became +wearied, she would take a golden ball, throw it up in the air, and catch +it again. This was her favorite amusement. Once it happened that her +golden ball, instead of falling back into the little hand that she +stretched out for it, dropped on the ground, and immediately rolled away +into the water. The king's daughter followed it with her eyes, but the +ball had vanished, and the well was so deep that no one could see down +to the bottom. Then she began to weep, wept louder and louder every +minute, and could not console herself at all. + +While she was thus lamenting some one called to her: “What is the matter +with you, king's daughter? You weep so that you would touch the heart of +a stone.” + +She looked around to see whence the voice came, and saw a frog +stretching his thick ugly head out of the water. + +“Ah! it is you, old water-paddler!” said she. “I am crying for my golden +ball, which has fallen into the well.” + +“Be content,” answered the frog; “I dare say I can give you some good +advice; but what will you give me if I bring back your plaything to +you?” + +“Whatever you like, dear frog,” said she, “my clothes, my pearls and +jewels, even the golden crown I wear.” + +The frog answered, “Your clothes, your pearls and jewels, even your +golden crown, I do not care for; but if you will love me, and let me be +your companion and play-fellow, sit near you at your little table, eat +from your little golden plate, drink from your little cup, and sleep in +your little bed--if you will promise me this, then I will bring you back +your golden ball from the bottom of the well.” + +“Oh, yes!” said she; “I promise you every-thing, if you will only bring +me back my golden ball.” + +She thought to herself, meanwhile: “What nonsense the silly frog talks! +He sits in the water with the other frogs, and croaks, and cannot be +anybody's playfellow!” + +But the frog, as soon as he had received the promise dipped his head +under the water and sank down. In a little while up he came again with +the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the grass. The king's daughter +was overjoyed when she beheld her pretty plaything again, picked it up, +and ran away with it. + +“Wait! wait!” cried the frog; “take me with you. I cannot run as fast as +you.” + +Alas! of what use was it that he croaked after her as loud as he could. +She would not listen to him, but hastened home, and soon forgot the poor +frog, who was obliged to plunge again to the bottom of his well. + +The next day, when she was sitting at dinner with the king and all the +courtiers, eating from her little gold plate, there came a sound of +something creeping up the marble staircase--splish, splash; and when it +had reached the top, it knocked at the door and cried, “Youngest king's +daughter, open to me.” + +She ran, wishing to see who was outside; but when she opened the door +and there sat the frog, she flung it hastily to again and sat down at +table, feeling very, very uncomfortable. The king saw that her heart was +beating violently, and said, “How, my child, why are you afraid? Is a +giant standing outside the door to carry you off?” + +“Oh, no!” answered she, “it is no giant, but a nasty frog, who +yesterday, when I was playing in the wood near the well, fetched my +golden ball out of the water. For this I promised him he should be my +companion, but I never thought he could come out of his well. Now he is +at the door, and wants to come in.” + +Again, the second time there was a knock, and a voice cried: + + “Youngest king's daughter, + Open to me; + Know you what yesterday + You promised me, + By the cool water? + Youngest king's daughter, + Open to me.” + +Then said the king, “What you promised you must perform. Go and open the +door.” + +She went and opened the door; the frog hopped in, always following and +following her till he came up to her chair. There he sat and cried out, +“Lift me up to you on the table.” + +She refused, till the king, her father, commanded her to do it. When +the frog was on the table, he said, “Now push your little golden plate +nearer to me, that we may eat together.” She did as he desired, but one +could easily see that she did it unwillingly. The frog seemed to enjoy +his dinner very much, but every morsel she ate stuck in the throat of +the poor little princess. + +Then said the frog, “I have eaten enough, and am tired; carry me to your +little room, and make your little silken bed smooth, and we will lay +ourselves down to sleep together.” + +At this the daughter of the king began to weep; for she was afraid of +the cold frog, who wanted to sleep in her pretty clean bed. + +But the king looked angrily at her, and said again: “What you have +promised you must perform. The frog is your companion.” + +It was no use to complain; whether she liked it or not, she was obliged +to take the frog with her up to her little bed. So she picked him +up with two fingers, hating him bitterly the while, and carried him +upstairs: but when she got into bed, instead of lifting him up to her, +she threw him with all her strength against the wall, saying, “Now you +nasty frog, there will be an end of you.” + +But what fell down from the wall was not a dead frog, but a living young +prince, with beautiful and loving eyes, who at once became, by her own +promise and her father's will, her dear companion and husband. He told +her how he had been cursed by a wicked sorceress, and that no one but +the king's youngest daughter could release him from his enchantment and +take him out of the well. + +The next day a carriage drove up to the palace gates with eight white +horses, having white feathers on their heads and golden reins. Behind it +stood the servant of the young prince, called the faithful Henry. This +faithful Henry had been so grieved when his master was changed into a +frog that he had been compelled to have three iron bands fastened round +his heart, lest it should break. Now the carriage came to convey the +prince to his kingdom, so the faithful Henry lifted in the bride and +bridegroom and mounted behind, full of joy at his lord's release. But +when they had gone a short distance, the prince heard behind him a noise +as if something was breaking. He cried out, “Henry, the carriage is +breaking!” + +But Henry replied: “No, sir, it is not the carriage but one of the bands +from my heart, with which I was forced to bind it up, or it would have +broken with grief while you sat as a frog at the bottom of the well.” + +Twice again this happened, and the prince always thought the carriage +was breaking; but it was only the bands breaking off from the heart of +the faithful Henry, out of joy that his lord, the frog-prince, was a +frog no more. + + + + +CLEVER ALICE + +ONCE upon a time there was a man who had a daughter who was called +“Clever Alice,” and when she was grown up, her father said, “We must see +about her marrying.” + +“Yes,” replied her mother, “whenever a young man shall appear who is +worthy of her.” + +At last a certain youth, by name Hans, came from a distance to make a +proposal of marriage; but he required one condition, that the clever +Alice should be very prudent. + +“Oh,” said her father, “no fear of that! she has got a head full of +brains;” and the mother added, “ah, she can see the wind blow up the +street, and hear the flies cough!” + +“Very well,” replied Hans; “but remember, if she is not very prudent, +I will not take her.” Soon afterward they sat down to dinner, and her +mother said, “Alice, go down into the cellar and draw some beer.” + +So Clever Alice took the jug down from the wall, and went into the +cellar, jerking the lid up and down on her way, to pass away the time. +As soon as she got downstairs she drew a stool and placed it before +the cask, in order that she might not have to stoop, for she thought +stooping might in some way injure her back and give it an undesirable +bend. Then she placed the can before her and turned the tap, and while +the beer was running, as she did not wish her eyes to be idle, she +looked about upon the wall above and below. Presently she perceived, +after much peeping into this corner and that corner, a hatchet, which +the bricklayers had left behind? sticking out of the ceiling right above +her head. At the sight of this Clever Alice began to cry, saying, “Oh! +if I marry Hans, and we have a child, and he grows up, and we send him +into the cellar to draw beer, the hatchet will fall upon his head and +kill him,” and so she sat there weeping with all her might over the +impending misfortune. + +Meanwhile the good folks upstairs were waiting for the beer, but as +Clever Alice did not come, her mother told the maid to go and see what +she was stopping for. The maid went down into the cellar and found Alice +sitting before the cask crying heartily, and she asked, “Alice, what are +you weeping about?” + +“Ah,” she replied, “have I not cause? If I marry Hans, and we have a +child, and he grows up, and we send him here to draw beer, that hatchet +will fall upon his head and kill him.” + +“Oh,” said the maid, “what a clever Alice we have!” And sitting down, +she began to weep, too, for the misfortune that was to happen. + +After a while, when the servant did not return, the good folks above +began to feel very thirsty; so the husband told the boy to go down into +the cellar and see what had become of Alice and the maid. The boy went +down, and there sat Clever Alice and the maid both crying, so he asked +the reason; and Alice told him the same tale, of the hatchet that was +to fall on her child, if she married Hans, and if they had a child. When +she had finished, the boy exclaimed, “What a clever Alice we have!” and +fell weeping and howling with the others. + +Upstairs they were still waiting, and the husband said, when the boy +did not return, “Do you go down, wife, into the cellar and see why Alice +stays so long.” So she went down, and finding all three sitting there +crying, asked the reason, and Alice told her about the hatchet which +must inevitably fall upon the head of her son. Then the mother likewise +exclaimed, “Oh, what a clever Alice we have!” and, sitting down, began +to weep as much as any of the rest. + +Meanwhile the husband waited for his wife's return; but at last he felt +so very thirsty that he said, “I must go myself down into the cellar and +see what is keeping our Alice.” As soon as he entered the cellar, there +he found the four sitting and crying together, and when he heard the +reason, he also exclaimed, “Oh, what a clever Alice we have!” and sat +down to cry with the whole strength of his lungs. + +All this time the bridegroom above sat waiting, but when nobody +returned, he thought they must be waiting for him, and so he went down +to see what was the matter. When he entered, there sat the five crying +and groaning, each one in a louder key than his neighbor. + +“What misfortune has happened?” he asked. + +“Ah, dear Hans!” cried Alice, “if you and I should marry one another, +and have a child, and he grew up, and we, perhaps, send him down to +this cellar to tap the beer, the hatchet which has been left sticking up +there may fall on his head, and so kill him; and do you not think this +is enough to weep about?” + +“Now,” said Hans, “more prudence than this is not necessary for my +housekeeping; because you are such a clever Alice, I will have you for +my wife.” And, taking her hand, he led her home, and celebrated the +wedding directly. + +After they had been married a little while, Hans, said one morning, +“Wife, I will go out to work and earn some money; do you go into the +field and gather some corn wherewith to make bread.” + +“Yes,” she answered, “I will do so, dear Hans.” And when he was gone, +she cooked herself a nice mess of pottage to take with her. As she came +to the field, she said to herself, “What shall I do? Shall I cut first, +or eat first? Aye, I will eat first!” Then she ate up the contents of +her pot, and when it was finished, she thought to herself, “Now, shall I +reap first or sleep first? Well, I think I will have a nap!” and so she +laid herself down among the corn, and went to sleep. + +Meanwhile Hans returned home, but Alice did not come, and so he said, +“Oh, what a prudent Alice I have! She is so industrious that she does +not even come home to eat anything.” By and by, however, evening came +on, and still she did not return; so Hans went out to see how much she +had reaped; but, behold, nothing at all, and there lay Alice fast asleep +among the corn! So home he ran very fast, and brought a net with little +bells hanging on it, which he threw over her head while she still slept +on. When he had done this, he went back again and shut to the +house door, and, seating himself on his stool, began working very +industriously. + +At last, when it was nearly dark, the clever Alice awoke, and as soon as +she stood up, the net fell all over her hair, and the bells jingled at +every step she took. This quite frightened her, and she began to doubt +whether she were really Clever Alice, and said to herself, “Am I she, or +am I not?” This was a question she could not answer, and she stood still +a long while considering about it. At last she thought she would go home +and ask whether she was really herself--supposing somebody would be able +to tell her. + +When she came up to the house door it was shut; so she tapped at the +window, and asked, “Hans, is Alice within?” “Yes,” he replied, “she +is.” At which answer she became really terrified, and exclaiming, “Ah, +heaven, then I am not Alice!” she ran up to another house, intending +to ask the same question. But as soon as the folks within heard the +jingling of the bells in her net, they refused to open their doors, and +nobody would receive her. So she ran straight away from the village, and +no one has ever seen her since. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Lame Prince, by +Miss Mulock--Pseudonym of Maria Dinah Craik + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE *** + +***** This file should be named 496-0.txt or 496-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/9/496/ + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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