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diff --git a/5676-h/5676-h.htm b/5676-h/5676-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b54753d --- /dev/null +++ b/5676-h/5676-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5258 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Double Story, by George MacDonald</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Double Story, by George MacDonald</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Double Story</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George MacDonald</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 7, 2002 [eBook #5676]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 8, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines.</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOUBLE STORY ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>A Double Story</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by George MacDonald</h2> + +<h5>NEW YORK:</h5> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>A DOUBLE STORY</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I.</h2> + +<p> +There was a certain country where things used to go rather oddly. For instance, +you could never tell whether it was going to rain or hail, or whether or not +the milk was going to turn sour. It was impossible to say whether the next baby +would be a boy, or a girl, or even, after he was a week old, whether he would +wake sweet-tempered or cross. +</p> + +<p> +In strict accordance with the peculiar nature of this country of uncertainties, +it came to pass one day, that in the midst of a shower of rain that might well +be called golden, seeing the sun, shining as it fell, turned all its drops into +molten topazes, and every drop was good for a grain of golden corn, or a yellow +cowslip, or a buttercup, or a dandelion at least;—while this splendid +rain was falling, I say, with a musical patter upon the great leaves of the +horse-chestnuts, which hung like Vandyke collars about the necks of the creamy, +red-spotted blossoms, and on the leaves of the sycamores, looking as if they +had blood in their veins, and on a multitude of flowers, of which some stood up +and boldly held out their cups to catch their share, while others cowered down, +laughing, under the soft patting blows of the heavy warm drops;—while +this lovely rain was washing all the air clean from the motes, and the bad +odors, and the poison-seeds that had escaped from their prisons during the long +drought;—while it fell, splashing and sparkling, with a hum, and a rush, +and a soft clashing—but stop! I am stealing, I find, and not that only, +but with clumsy hands spoiling what I steal:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O Rain! with your dull twofold sound,<br/> +The clash hard by, and the murmur all round:”<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +—there! take it, Mr. Coleridge;—while, as I was saying, the lovely +little rivers whose fountains are the clouds, and which cut their own channels +through the air, and make sweet noises rubbing against their banks as they +hurry down and down, until at length they are pulled up on a sudden, with a +musical plash, in the very heart of an odorous flower, that first gasps and +then sighs up a blissful scent, or on the bald head of a stone that never says, +Thank you;—while the very sheep felt it blessing them, though it could +never reach their skins through the depth of their long wool, and the veriest +hedgehog—I mean the one with the longest spikes—came and spiked +himself out to impale as many of the drops as he could;—while the rain +was thus falling, and the leaves, and the flowers, and the sheep, and the +cattle, and the hedgehog, were all busily receiving the golden rain, something +happened. It was not a great battle, nor an earthquake, nor a coronation, but +something more important than all those put together. <i>A baby-girl was +born;</i> and her father was a king; and her mother was a queen; and her uncles +and aunts were princes and princesses; and her first-cousins were dukes and +duchesses; and not one of her second-cousins was less than a marquis or +marchioness, or of their third-cousins less than an earl or countess: and below +a countess they did not care to count. So the little girl was Somebody; and yet +for all that, strange to say, the first thing she did was to cry. I told you it +was a strange country. +</p> + +<p> +As she grew up, everybody about her did his best to convince her that she was +Somebody; and the girl herself was so easily persuaded of it that she quite +forgot that anybody had ever told her so, and took it for a fundamental, +innate, primary, first-born, self-evident, necessary, and incontrovertible idea +and principle that <i>she was Somebody</i>. And far be it from me to deny it. I +will even go so far as to assert that in this odd country there was a huge +number of Somebodies. Indeed, it was one of its oddities that every boy and +girl in it, was rather too ready to think he or she was Somebody; and the worst +of it was that the princess never thought of there being more than one +Somebody—and that was herself. +</p> + +<p> +Far away to the north in the same country, on the side of a bleak hill, where a +horse-chestnut or a sycamore was never seen, where were no meadows rich with +buttercups, only steep, rough, breezy slopes, covered with dry prickly furze +and its flowers of red gold, or moister, softer broom with its flowers of +yellow gold, and great sweeps of purple heather, mixed with bilberries, and +crowberries, and cranberries—no, I am all wrong: there was nothing out +yet but a few furze-blossoms; the rest were all waiting behind their doors till +they were called; and no full, slow-gliding river with meadow-sweet along its +oozy banks, only a little brook here and there, that dashed past without a +moment to say, “How do you do?”—there (would you believe it?) +while the same cloud that was dropping down golden rain all about the +queen’s new baby was dashing huge fierce handfuls of hail upon the hills, +with such force that they flew spinning off the rocks and stones, went +burrowing in the sheep’s wool, stung the cheeks and chin of the shepherd +with their sharp spiteful little blows, and made his dog wink and whine as they +bounded off his hard wise head, and long sagacious nose; only, when they +dropped plump down the chimney, and fell hissing in the little fire, they +caught it then, for the clever little fire soon sent them up the chimney again, +a good deal swollen, and harmless enough for a while, there (what do you +think?) among the hailstones, and the heather, and the cold mountain air, +another little girl was born, whom the shepherd her father, and the shepherdess +her mother, and a good many of her kindred too, thought Somebody. She had not +an uncle or an aunt that was less than a shepherd or dairymaid, not a cousin, +that was less than a farm-laborer, not a second-cousin that was less than a +grocer, and they did not count farther. And yet (would you believe it?) she too +cried the very first thing. It <i>was</i> an odd country! And, what is still +more surprising, the shepherd and shepherdess and the dairymaids and the +laborers were not a bit wiser than the king and the queen and the dukes and the +marquises and the earls; for they too, one and all, so constantly taught the +little woman that she was Somebody, that she also forgot that there were a +great many more Somebodies besides herself in the world. +</p> + +<p> +It was, indeed, a peculiar country, very different from ours—so +different, that my reader must not be too much surprised when I add the amazing +fact, that most of its inhabitants, instead of enjoying the things they had, +were always wanting the things they had not, often even the things it was least +likely they ever could have. The grown men and women being like this, there is +no reason to be further astonished that the Princess Rosamond—the name +her parents gave her because it means <i>Rose of the World</i>—should +grow up like them, wanting every thing she could and every thing she +couldn’t have. The things she could have were a great many too many, for +her foolish parents always gave her what they could; but still there remained a +few things they couldn’t give her, for they were only a common king and +queen. They could and did give her a lighted candle when she cried for it, and +managed by much care that she should not burn her fingers or set her frock on +fire; but when she cried for the moon, that they could not give her. They did +the worst thing possible, instead, however; for they pretended to do what they +could not. They got her a thin disc of brilliantly polished silver, as near the +size of the moon as they could agree upon; and, for a time she was delighted. +</p> + +<p> +But, unfortunately, one evening she made the discovery that her moon was a +little peculiar, inasmuch as she could not shine in the dark. Her nurse +happened to snuff out the candles as she was playing with it; and instantly +came a shriek of rage, for her moon had vanished. Presently, through the +opening of the curtains, she caught sight of the real moon, far away in the +sky, and shining quite calmly, as if she had been there all the time; and her +rage increased to such a degree that if it had not passed off in a fit, I do +not know what might have come of it. +</p> + +<p> +As she grew up it was still the same, with this difference, that not only must +she have every thing, but she got tired of every thing almost as soon as she +had it. There was an accumulation of things in her nursery and schoolroom and +bedroom that was perfectly appalling. Her mother’s wardrobes were almost +useless to her, so packed were they with things of which she never took any +notice. When she was five years old, they gave her a splendid gold repeater, so +close set with diamonds and rubies, that the back was just one crust of gems. +In one of her little tempers, as they called her hideously ugly rages, she +dashed it against the back of the chimney, after which it never gave a single +tick; and some of the diamonds went to the ash-pit. As she grew older still, +she became fond of animals, not in a way that brought them much pleasure, or +herself much satisfaction. When angry, she would beat them, and try to pull +them to pieces, and as soon as she became a little used to them, would neglect +them altogether. Then, if they could, they would run away, and she was furious. +Some white mice, which she had ceased feeding altogether, did so; and soon the +palace was swarming with white mice. Their red eyes might be seen glowing, and +their white skins gleaming, in every dark corner; but when it came to the +king’s finding a nest of them in his second-best crown, he was angry and +ordered them to be drowned. The princess heard of it, however, and raised such +a clamor, that there they were left until they should run away of themselves; +and the poor king had to wear his best crown every day till then. Nothing that +was the princess’s property, whether she cared for it or not, was to be +meddled with. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, as she grew, she grew worse; for she never tried to grow better. She +became more and more peevish and fretful every day—dissatisfied not only +with what she had, but with all that was around her, and constantly wishing +things in general to be different. She found fault with every thing and +everybody, and all that happened, and grew more and more disagreeable to every +one who had to do with her. At last, when she had nearly killed her nurse, and +had all but succeeded in hanging herself, and was miserable from morning to +night, her parents thought it time to do something. +</p> + +<p> +A long way from the palace, in the heart of a deep wood of pine-trees, lived a +wise woman. In some countries she would have been called a witch; but that +would have been a mistake, for she never did any thing wicked, and had more +power than any witch could have. As her fame was spread through all the +country, the king heard of her; and, thinking she might perhaps be able to +suggest something, sent for her. In the dead of the night, lest the princess +should know it, the king’s messenger brought into the palace a tall +woman, muffled from head to foot in a cloak of black cloth. In the presence of +both their Majesties, the king, to do her honor, requested her to sit; but she +declined, and stood waiting to hear what they had to say. Nor had she to wait +long, for almost instantly they began to tell her the dreadful trouble they +were in with their only child; first the king talking, then the queen +interposing with some yet more dreadful fact, and at times both letting out a +torrent of words together, so anxious were they to show the wise woman that +their perplexity was real, and their daughter a very terrible one. For a long +while there appeared no sign of approaching pause. But the wise woman stood +patiently folded in her black cloak, and listened without word or motion. At +length silence fell; for they had talked themselves tired, and could not think +of any thing more to add to the list of their child’s enormities. +</p> + +<p> +After a minute, the wise woman unfolded her arms; and her cloak dropping open +in front, disclosed a garment made of a strange stuff, which an old poet who +knew her well has thus described:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride,<br/> +That seemd like silke and silver woven neare;<br/> +But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.”<br/> +</p> + +<p> +“How very badly you have treated her!” said the wise woman. +“Poor child!” +</p> + +<p> +“Treated her badly?” gasped the king. +</p> + +<p> +“She is a very wicked child,” said the queen; and both glared with +indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed!” returned the wise woman. “She is very naughty +indeed, and that she must be made to feel; but it is half your fault +too.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” stammered the king. “Haven’t we given her every +mortal thing she wanted?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” said the wise woman: “what else could have all but +killed her? You should have given her a few things of the other sort. But you +are far too dull to understand me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very polite,” remarked the king, with royal sarcasm on his +thin, straight lips. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman made no answer beyond a deep sigh; and the king and queen sat +silent also in their anger, glaring at the wise woman. The silence lasted again +for a minute, and then the wise woman folded her cloak around her, and her +shining garment vanished like the moon when a great cloud comes over her. Yet +another minute passed and the silence endured, for the smouldering wrath of the +king and queen choked the channels of their speech. Then the wise woman turned +her back on them, and so stood. At this, the rage of the king broke forth; and +he cried to the queen, stammering in his fierceness,— +</p> + +<p> +“How should such an old hag as that teach Rosamond good manners? She +knows nothing of them herself! Look how she stands!—actually with her +back to us.” +</p> + +<p> +At the word the wise woman walked from the room. The great folding doors fell +to behind her; and the same moment the king and queen were quarrelling like +apes as to which of them was to blame for her departure. Before their +altercation was over, for it lasted till the early morning, in rushed Rosamond, +clutching in her hand a poor little white rabbit, of which she was very fond, +and from which, only because it would not come to her when she called it, she +was pulling handfuls of fur in the attempt to tear the squealing, pink-eared, +red-eyed thing to pieces. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosa, Rosa<i>mond!</i>” cried the queen; whereupon Rosamond threw +the rabbit in her mother’s face. The king started up in a fury, and ran +to seize her. She darted shrieking from the room. The king rushed after her; +but, to his amazement, she was nowhere to be seen: the huge hall was +empty.—No: just outside the door, close to the threshold, with her back +to it, sat the figure of the wise woman, muffled in her dark cloak, with her +head bowed over her knees. As the king stood looking at her, she rose slowly, +crossed the hall, and walked away down the marble staircase. The king called to +her; but she never turned her head, or gave the least sign that she heard him. +So quietly did she pass down the wide marble stair, that the king was all but +persuaded he had seen only a shadow gliding across the white steps. +</p> + +<p> +For the princess, she was nowhere to be found. The queen went into hysterics; +and the rabbit ran away. The king sent out messengers in every direction, but +in vain. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time the palace was quiet—as quiet as it used to be before the +princess was born. The king and queen cried a little now and then, for the +hearts of parents were in that country strangely fashioned; and yet I am afraid +the first movement of those very hearts would have been a jump of terror if the +ears above them had heard the voice of Rosamond in one of the corridors. As for +the rest of the household, they could not have made up a single tear amongst +them. They thought, whatever it might be for the princess, it was, for every +one else, the best thing that could have happened; and as to what had become of +her, if their heads were puzzled, their hearts took no interest in the +question. The lord-chancellor alone had an idea about it, but he was far too +wise to utter it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II.</h2> + +<p> +The fact, as is plain, was, that the princess had disappeared in the folds of +the wise woman’s cloak. When she rushed from the room, the wise woman +caught her to her bosom and flung the black garment around her. The princess +struggled wildly, for she was in fierce terror, and screamed as loud as choking +fright would permit her; but her father, standing in the door, and looking down +upon the wise woman, saw never a movement of the cloak, so tight was she held +by her captor. He was indeed aware of a most angry crying, which reminded him +of his daughter; but it sounded to him so far away, that he took it for the +passion of some child in the street, outside the palace-gates. Hence, +unchallenged, the wise woman carried the princess down the marble stairs, out +at the palace-door, down a great flight of steps outside, across a paved court, +through the brazen gates, along half-roused streets where people were opening +their shops, through the huge gates of the city, and out into the wide road, +vanishing northwards; the princess struggling and screaming all the time, and +the wise woman holding her tight. When at length she was too tired to struggle +or scream any more, the wise woman unfolded her cloak, and set her down; and +the princess saw the light and opened her swollen eyelids. There was nothing in +sight that she had ever seen before. City and palace had disappeared. They were +upon a wide road going straight on, with a ditch on each side of it, that +behind them widened into the great moat surrounding the city. She cast up a +terrified look into the wise woman’s face, that gazed down upon her +gravely and kindly. Now the princess did not in the least understand kindness. +She always took it for a sign either of partiality or fear. So when the wise +woman looked kindly upon her, she rushed at her, butting with her head like a +ram: but the folds of the cloak had closed around the wise woman; and, when the +princess ran against it, she found it hard as the cloak of a bronze statue, and +fell back upon the road with a great bruise on her head. The wise woman lifted +her again, and put her once more under the cloak, where she fell asleep, and +where she awoke again only to find that she was still being carried on and on. +</p> + +<p> +When at length the wise woman again stopped and set her down, she saw around +her a bright moonlit night, on a wide heath, solitary and houseless. Here she +felt more frightened than before; nor was her terror assuaged when, looking up, +she saw a stern, immovable countenance, with cold eyes fixedly regarding her. +All she knew of the world being derived from nursery-tales, she concluded that +the wise woman was an ogress, carrying her home to eat her. +</p> + +<p> +I have already said that the princess was, at this time of her life, such a +low-minded creature, that severity had greater influence over her than +kindness. She understood terror better far than tenderness. When the wise woman +looked at her thus, she fell on her knees, and held up her hands to her, +crying,— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t eat me! don’t eat me!” +</p> + +<p> +Now this being the best <i>she</i> could do, it was a sign she was a low +creature. Think of it—to kick at kindness, and kneel from terror. But the +sternness on the face of the wise woman came from the same heart and the same +feeling as the kindness that had shone from it before. The only thing that +could save the princess from her hatefulness, was that she should be made to +mind somebody else than her own miserable Somebody. +</p> + +<p> +Without saying a word, the wise woman reached down her hand, took one of +Rosamond’s, and, lifting her to her feet, led her along through the +moonlight. Every now and then a gush of obstinacy would well up in the heart of +the princess, and she would give a great ill-tempered tug, and pull her hand +away; but then the wise woman would gaze down upon her with such a look, that +she instantly sought again the hand she had rejected, in pure terror lest she +should be eaten upon the spot. And so they would walk on again; and when the +wind blew the folds of the cloak against the princess, she found them soft as +her mother’s camel-hair shawl. +</p> + +<p> +After a little while the wise woman began to sing to her, and the princess +could not help listening; for the soft wind amongst the low dry bushes of the +heath, the rustle of their own steps, and the trailing of the wise +woman’s cloak, were the only sounds beside. +</p> + +<p> +And this is the song she sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Out in the cold,<br/> + With a thin-worn fold<br/> + Of withered gold<br/> + Around her rolled,<br/> +Hangs in the air the weary moon.<br/> + She is old, old, old;<br/> + And her bones all cold,<br/> + And her tales all told,<br/> + And her things all sold,<br/> +And she has no breath to croon.<br/> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Like a castaway clout,<br/> + She is quite shut out!<br/> + She might call and shout,<br/> + But no one about<br/> +Would ever call back, “Who’s there?”<br/> + There is never a hut,<br/> + Not a door to shut,<br/> + Not a footpath or rut,<br/> + Long road or short cut,<br/> +Leading to anywhere!<br/> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + She is all alone<br/> + Like a dog-picked bone,<br/> + The poor old crone!<br/> + She fain would groan,<br/> +But she cannot find the breath.<br/> + She once had a fire;<br/> + But she built it no higher,<br/> + And only sat nigher<br/> + Till she saw it expire;<br/> +And now she is cold as death.<br/> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + She never will smile<br/> + All the lonesome while.<br/> + Oh the mile after mile,<br/> + And never a stile!<br/> +And never a tree or a stone!<br/> + She has not a tear:<br/> + Afar and anear<br/> + It is all so drear,<br/> + But she does not care,<br/> +Her heart is as dry as a bone.<br/> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + None to come near her!<br/> + No one to cheer her!<br/> + No one to jeer her!<br/> + No one to hear her!<br/> +Not a thing to lift and hold!<br/> + She is always awake,<br/> + But her heart will not break:<br/> + She can only quake,<br/> + Shiver, and shake:<br/> +The old woman is very cold.<br/> +</p> + +<p> +As strange as the song, was the crooning wailing tune that the wise woman sung. +At the first note almost, you would have thought she wanted to frighten the +princess; and so indeed she did. For when people <i>will</i> be naughty, they +have to be frightened, and they are not expected to like it. The princess grew +angry, pulled her hand away, and cried,— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>You</i> are the ugly old woman. I hate you!” +</p> + +<p> +Therewith she stood still, expecting the wise woman to stop also, perhaps coax +her to go on: if she did, she was determined not to move a step. But the wise +woman never even looked about: she kept walking on steadily, the same pace as +before. Little Obstinate thought for certain she would turn; for she regarded +herself as much too precious to be left behind. But on and on the wise woman +went, until she had vanished away in the dim moonlight. Then all at once the +princess perceived that she was left alone with the moon, looking down on her +from the height of her loneliness. She was horribly frightened, and began to +run after the wise woman, calling aloud. But the song she had just heard came +back to the sound of her own running feet,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +All all alone,<br/> +Like a dog-picked bone!<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and again,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + She might call and shout,<br/> + And no one about<br/> +Would ever call back, “Who’s there?”<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and she screamed as she ran. How she wished she knew the old woman’s +name, that she might call it after her through the moonlight! +</p> + +<p> +But the wise woman had, in truth, heard the first sound of her running feet, +and stopped and turned, waiting. What with running and crying, however, and a +fall or two as she ran, the princess never saw her until she fell right into +her arms—and the same moment into a fresh rage; for as soon as any +trouble was over the princess was always ready to begin another. The wise woman +therefore pushed her away, and walked on; while the princess ran scolding and +storming after her. She had to run till, from very fatigue, her rudeness +ceased. Her heart gave way; she burst into tears, and ran on silently weeping. +</p> + +<p> +A minute more and the wise woman stooped, and lifting her in her arms, folded +her cloak around her. Instantly she fell asleep, and slept as soft and as +soundly as if she had been in her own bed. She slept till the moon went down; +she slept till the sun rose up; she slept till he climbed the topmost sky; she +slept till he went down again, and the poor old moon came peaking and peering +out once more: and all that time the wise woman went walking on and on very +fast. And now they had reached a spot where a few fir-trees came to meet them +through the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time the princess awaked, and popping her head out between the +folds of the wise woman’s cloak—a very ugly little owlet she +looked—saw that they were entering the wood. Now there is something awful +about every wood, especially in the moonlight; and perhaps a fir-wood is more +awful than other woods. For one thing, it lets a little more light through, +rendering the darkness a little more visible, as it were; and then the trees go +stretching away up towards the moon, and look as if they cared nothing about +the creatures below them—not like the broad trees with soft wide leaves +that, in the darkness even, look sheltering. So the princess is not to be +blamed that she was very much frightened. She is hardly to be blamed either +that, assured the wise woman was an ogress carrying her to her castle to eat +her up, she began again to kick and scream violently, as those of my readers +who are of the same sort as herself will consider the right and natural thing +to do. The wrong in her was this—that she had led such a bad life, that +she did not know a good woman when she saw her; took her for one like herself, +even after she had slept in her arms. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the wise woman set her down, and, walking on, within a few paces +vanished among the trees. Then the cries of the princess rent the air, but the +fir-trees never heeded her; not one of their hard little needles gave a single +shiver for all the noise she made. But there were creatures in the forest who +were soon quite as much interested in her cries as the fir-trees were +indifferent to them. They began to hearken and howl and snuff about, and run +hither and thither, and grin with their white teeth, and light up the green +lamps in their eyes. In a minute or two a whole army of wolves and hyenas were +rushing from all quarters through the pillar like stems of the fir-trees, to +the place where she stood calling them, without knowing it. The noise she made +herself, however, prevented her from hearing either their howls or the soft +pattering of their many trampling feet as they bounded over the fallen fir +needles and cones. +</p> + +<p> +One huge old wolf had outsped the rest—not that he could run faster, but +that from experience he could more exactly judge whence the cries came, and as +he shot through the wood, she caught sight at last of his lamping eyes coming +swiftly nearer and nearer. Terror silenced her. She stood with her mouth open, +as if she were going to eat the wolf, but she had no breath to scream with, and +her tongue curled up in her mouth like a withered and frozen leaf. She could do +nothing but stare at the coming monster. And now he was taking a few shorter +bounds, measuring the distance for the one final leap that should bring him +upon her, when out stepped the wise woman from behind the very tree by which +she had set the princess down, caught the wolf by the throat half-way in his +last spring, shook him once, and threw him from her dead. Then she turned +towards the princess, who flung herself into her arms, and was instantly lapped +in the folds of her cloak. +</p> + +<p> +But now the huge army of wolves and hyenas had rushed like a sea around them, +whose waves leaped with hoarse roar and hollow yell up against the wise woman. +But she, like a strong stately vessel, moved unhurt through the midst of them. +Ever as they leaped against her cloak, they dropped and slunk away back through +the crowd. Others ever succeeded, and ever in their turn fell, and drew back +confounded. For some time she walked on attended and assailed on all sides by +the howling pack. Suddenly they turned and swept away, vanishing in the depths +of the forest. She neither slackened nor hastened her step, but went walking on +as before. +</p> + +<p> +In a little while she unfolded her cloak, and let the princess look out. The +firs had ceased; and they were on a lofty height of moorland, stony and bare +and dry, with tufts of heather and a few small plants here and there. About the +heath, on every side, lay the forest, looking in the moonlight like a cloud; +and above the forest, like the shaven crown of a monk, rose the bare moor over +which they were walking. Presently, a little way in front of them, the princess +espied a whitewashed cottage, gleaming in the moon. As they came nearer, she +saw that the roof was covered with thatch, over which the moss had grown green. +It was a very simple, humble place, not in the least terrible to look at, and +yet, as soon as she saw it, her fear again awoke, and always, as soon as her +fear awoke, the trust of the princess fell into a dead sleep. Foolish and +useless as she might by this time have known it, she once more began kicking +and screaming, whereupon, yet once more, the wise woman set her down on the +heath, a few yards from the back of the cottage, and saying only, “No one +ever gets into my house who does not knock at the door, and ask to come +in,” disappeared round the corner of the cottage, leaving the princess +alone with the moon—two white faces in the cone of the night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III.</h2> + +<p> +The moon stared at the princess, and the princess stared at the moon; but the +moon had the best of it, and the princess began to cry. And now the question +was between the moon and the cottage. The princess thought she knew the worst +of the moon, and she knew nothing at all about the cottage, therefore she would +stay with the moon. Strange, was it not, that she should have been so long with +the wise woman, and yet know <i>nothing</i> about that cottage? As for the +moon, she did not by any means know the worst of her, or even, that, if she +were to fall asleep where she could find her, the old witch would certainly do +her best to twist her face. +</p> + +<p> +But she had scarcely sat a moment longer before she was assailed by all sorts +of fresh fears. First of all, the soft wind blowing gently through the dry +stalks of the heather and its thousands of little bells raised a sweet +rustling, which the princess took for the hissing of serpents, for you know she +had been naughty for so long that she could not in a great many things tell the +good from the bad. Then nobody could deny that there, all round about the +heath, like a ring of darkness, lay the gloomy fir-wood, and the princess knew +what it was full of, and every now and then she thought she heard the howling +of its wolves and hyenas. And who could tell but some of them might break from +their covert and sweep like a shadow across the heath? Indeed, it was not once +nor twice that for a moment she was fully persuaded she saw a great beast +coming leaping and bounding through the moonlight to have her all to himself. +She did not know that not a single evil creature dared set foot on that heath, +or that, if one should do so, it would that instant wither up and cease. If an +army of them had rushed to invade it, it would have melted away on the edge of +it, and ceased like a dying wave.—She even imagined that the moon was +slowly coming nearer and nearer down the sky to take her and freeze her to +death in her arms. The wise woman, too, she felt sure, although her cottage +looked asleep, was watching her at some little window. In this, however, she +would have been quite right, if she had only imagined enough—namely, that +the wise woman was watching <i>over</i> her from the little window. But after +all, somehow, the thought of the wise woman was less frightful than that of any +of her other terrors, and at length she began to wonder whether it might not +turn out that she was no ogress, but only a rude, ill-bred, tyrannical, yet on +the whole not altogether ill-meaning person. Hardly had the possibility arisen +in her mind, before she was on her feet: if the woman was any thing short of an +ogress, her cottage must be better than that horrible loneliness, with nothing +in all the world but a stare; and even an ogress had at least the shape and +look of a human being. +</p> + +<p> +She darted round the end of the cottage to find the front. But, to her +surprise, she came only to another back, for no door was to be seen. She tried +the farther end, but still no door. She must have passed it as she +ran—but no—neither in gable nor in side was any to be found. +</p> + +<p> +A cottage without a door!—she rushed at it in a rage and kicked at the +wall with her feet. But the wall was hard as iron, and hurt her sadly through +her gay silken slippers. She threw herself on the heath, which came up to the +walls of the cottage on every side, and roared and screamed with rage. +Suddenly, however, she remembered how her screaming had brought the horde of +wolves and hyenas about her in the forest, and, ceasing at once, lay still, +gazing yet again at the moon. And then came the thought of her parents in the +palace at home. In her mind’s eye she saw her mother sitting at her +embroidery with the tears dropping upon it, and her father staring into the +fire as if he were looking for her in its glowing caverns. It is true that if +they had both been in tears by her side because of her naughtiness, she would +not have cared a straw; but now her own forlorn condition somehow helped her to +understand their grief at having lost her, and not only a great longing to be +back in her comfortable home, but a feeble flutter of genuine love for her +parents awoke in her heart as well, and she burst into real tears—soft, +mournful tears—very different from those of rage and disappointment to +which she was so much used. And another very remarkable thing was that the +moment she began to love her father and mother, she began to wish to see the +wise woman again. The idea of her being an ogress vanished utterly, and she +thought of her only as one to take her in from the moon, and the loneliness, +and the terrors of the forest-haunted heath, and hide her in a cottage with not +even a door for the horrid wolves to howl against. +</p> + +<p> +But the old woman—as the princess called her, not knowing that her real +name was the Wise Woman—had told her that she must knock at the door: how +was she to do that when there was no door? But again she bethought +herself—that, if she could not do all she was told, she could, at least, +do a part of it: if she could not knock at the door, she could at least +knock—say on the wall, for there was nothing else to knock upon—and +perhaps the old woman would hear her, and lift her in by some window. +Thereupon, she rose at once to her feet, and picking up a stone, began to knock +on the wall with it. A loud noise was the result, and she found she was +knocking on the very door itself. For a moment she feared the old woman would +be offended, but the next, there came a voice, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” +</p> + +<p> +The princess answered, +</p> + +<p> +“Please, old woman, I did not mean to knock so loud.” +</p> + +<p> +To this there came no reply. +</p> + +<p> +Then the princess knocked again, this time with her knuckles, and the voice +came again, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” +</p> + +<p> +And the princess answered, +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond.” +</p> + +<p> +Then a second time there was silence. But the princess soon ventured to knock a +third time. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” said the voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please, let me in!” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“The moon will keep staring at me; and I hear the wolves in the +wood.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the door opened, and the princess entered. She looked all around, but saw +nothing of the wise woman. +</p> + +<p> +It was a single bare little room, with a white deal table, and a few old wooden +chairs, a fire of fir-wood on the hearth, the smoke of which smelt sweet, and a +patch of thick-growing heath in one corner. Poor as it was, compared to the +grand place Rosamond had left, she felt no little satisfaction as she shut the +door, and looked around her. And what with the sufferings and terrors she had +left outside, the new kind of tears she had shed, the love she had begun to +feel for her parents, and the trust she had begun to place in the wise woman, +it seemed to her as if her soul had grown larger of a sudden, and she had left +the days of her childishness and naughtiness far behind her. People are so +ready to think themselves changed when it is only their mood that is changed! +Those who are good-tempered because it is a fine day, will be ill-tempered when +it rains: their selves are just the same both days; only in the one case, the +fine weather has got into them, in the other the rainy. Rosamond, as she sat +warming herself by the glow of the peat-fire, turning over in her mind all that +had passed, and feeling how pleasant the change in her feelings was, began by +degrees to think how very good she had grown, and how very good she was to have +grown good, and how extremely good she must always have been that she was able +to grow so very good as she now felt she had grown; and she became so absorbed +in her self-admiration as never to notice either that the fire was dying, or +that a heap of fir-cones lay in a corner near it. Suddenly, a great wind came +roaring down the chimney, and scattered the ashes about the floor; a tremendous +rain followed, and fell hissing on the embers; the moon was swallowed up, and +there was darkness all about her. Then a flash of lightning, followed by a peal +of thunder, so terrified the princess, that she cried aloud for the old woman, +but there came no answer to her cry. +</p> + +<p> +Then in her terror the princess grew angry, and saying to herself, “She +must be somewhere in the place, else who was there to open the door to +me?” began to shout and yell, and call the wise woman all the bad names +she had been in the habit of throwing at her nurses. But there came not a +single sound in reply. +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, the princess never thought of telling herself now how naughty +she was, though that would surely have been reasonable. On the contrary, she +thought she had a perfect right to be angry, for was she not most desperately +ill used—and a princess too? But the wind howled on, and the rain kept +pouring down the chimney, and every now and then the lightning burst out, and +the thunder rushed after it, as if the great lumbering sound could ever think +to catch up with the swift light! +</p> + +<p> +At length the princess had again grown so angry, frightened, and miserable, all +together, that she jumped up and hurried about the cottage with outstretched +arms, trying to find the wise woman. But being in a bad temper always makes +people stupid, and presently she struck her forehead such a blow against +something—she thought herself it felt like the old woman’s +cloak—that she fell back—not on the floor, though, but on the patch +of heather, which felt as soft and pleasant as any bed in the palace. There, +worn out with weeping and rage, she soon fell fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +She dreamed that she was the old cold woman up in the sky, with no home and no +friends, and no nothing at all, not even a pocket; wandering, wandering +forever, over a desert of blue sand, never to get to anywhere, and never to lie +down or die. It was no use stopping to look about her, for what had she to do +but forever look about her as she went on and on and on—never seeing any +thing, and never expecting to see any thing! The only shadow of a hope she had +was, that she might by slow degrees grow thinner and thinner, until at last she +wore away to nothing at all; only alas! she could not detect the least sign +that she had yet begun to grow thinner. The hopelessness grew at length so +unendurable that she woke with a start. Seeing the face of the wise woman +bending over her, she threw her arms around her neck and held up her mouth to +be kissed. And the kiss of the wise woman was like the rose-gardens of +Damascus. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV.</h2> + +<p> +The wise woman lifted her tenderly, and washed and dressed her far more +carefully than even her nurse. Then she set her down by the fire, and prepared +her breakfast. The princess was very hungry, and the bread and milk as good as +it could be, so that she thought she had never in her life eaten any thing +nicer. Nevertheless, as soon as she began to have enough, she said to +herself,— +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! I see how it is! The old woman wants to fatten me! That is why she +gives me such nice creamy milk. She doesn’t kill me now because +she’s going to kill me then! She <i>is</i> an ogress, after all!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she laid down her spoon, and would not eat another +mouthful—only followed the basin with longing looks, as the wise woman +carried it away. +</p> + +<p> +When she stopped eating, her hostess knew exactly what she was thinking; but it +was one thing to understand the princess, and quite another to make the +princess understand her: that would require time. For the present she took no +notice, but went about the affairs of the house, sweeping the floor, brushing +down the cobwebs, cleaning the hearth, dusting the table and chairs, and +watering the bed to keep it fresh and alive—for she never had more than +one guest at a time, and never would allow that guest to go to sleep upon any +thing that had no life in it. All the time she was thus busied, she spoke not a +word to the princess, which, with the princess, went to confirm her notion of +her purposes. But whatever she might have said would have been only perverted +by the princess into yet stronger proof of her evil designs, for a fancy in her +own head would outweigh any multitude of facts in another’s. She kept +staring at the fire, and never looked round to see what the wise woman might be +doing. +</p> + +<p> +By and by she came close up to the back of her chair, and said, +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond!” +</p> + +<p> +But the princess had fallen into one of her sulky moods, and shut herself up +with her own ugly Somebody; so she never looked round or even answered the wise +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond,” she repeated, “I am going out. If you are a good +girl, that is, if you do as I tell you, I will carry you back to your father +and mother the moment I return.” +</p> + +<p> +The princess did not take the least notice. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at me, Rosamond,” said the wise woman. +</p> + +<p> +But Rosamond never moved—never even shrugged her shoulders—perhaps +because they were already up to her ears, and could go no farther. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to help you to do what I tell you,” said the wise woman. +“Look at me.” +</p> + +<p> +Still Rosamond was motionless and silent, saying only to herself, +</p> + +<p> +“I know what she’s after! She wants to show me her horrid teeth. +But I won’t look. I’m not going to be frightened out of my senses +to please her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better look, Rosamond. Have you forgotten how you kissed me this +morning?” +</p> + +<p> +But Rosamond now regarded that little throb of affection as a momentary +weakness into which the deceitful ogress had betrayed her, and almost despised +herself for it. She was one of those who the more they are coaxed are the more +disagreeable. For such, the wise woman had an awful punishment, but she +remembered that the princess had been very ill brought up, and therefore wished +to try her with all gentleness first. +</p> + +<p> +She stood silent for a moment, to see what effect her words might have. But +Rosamond only said to herself,— +</p> + +<p> +“She wants to fatten and eat me.” +</p> + +<p> +And it was such a little while since she had looked into the wise woman’s +loving eyes, thrown her arms round her neck, and kissed her! +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the wise woman gently, after pausing as long as it +seemed possible she might bethink herself, “I must tell you then without; +only whoever listens with her back turned, listens but half, and gets but half +the help.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wants to fatten me,” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“You must keep the cottage tidy while I am out. When I come back, I must +see the fire bright, the hearth swept, and the kettle boiling; no dust on the +table or chairs, the windows clear, the floor clean, and the heather in +blossom—which last comes of sprinkling it with water three times a day. +When you are hungry, put your hand into that hole in the wall, and you will +find a meal.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wants to fatten me,” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“But on no account leave the house till I come back,” continued the +wise woman, “or you will grievously repent it. Remember what you have +already gone through to reach it. Dangers lie all around this cottage of mine; +but inside, it is the safest place—in fact the only quite safe place in +all the country.” +</p> + +<p> +“She means to eat me,” said the princess, “and therefore +wants to frighten me from running away.” +</p> + +<p> +She heard the voice no more. Then, suddenly startled at the thought of being +alone, she looked hastily over her shoulder. The cottage was indeed empty of +all visible life. It was soundless, too: there was not even a ticking clock or +a flapping flame. The fire burned still and smouldering-wise; but it was all +the company she had, and she turned again to stare into it. +</p> + +<p> +Soon she began to grow weary of having nothing to do. Then she remembered that +the old woman, as she called her, had told her to keep the house tidy. +</p> + +<p> +“The miserable little pig-sty!” she said. “Where’s the +use of keeping such a hovel clean!” +</p> + +<p> +But in truth she would have been glad of the employment, only just because she +had been told to do it, she was unwilling; for there <i>are</i> +people—however unlikely it may seem—who object to doing a thing for +no other reason than that it is required of them. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a princess,” she said, “and it is very improper to ask +me to do such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +She might have judged it quite as suitable for a princess to sweep away the +dust as to sit the centre of a world of dirt. But just because she ought, she +wouldn’t. Perhaps she feared that if she gave in to doing her duty once, +she might have to do it always—which was true enough—for that was +the very thing for which she had been specially born. +</p> + +<p> +Unable, however, to feel quite comfortable in the resolve to neglect it, she +said to herself, “I’m sure there’s time enough for such a +nasty job as that!” and sat on, watching the fire as it burned away, the +glowing red casting off white flakes, and sinking lower and lower on the +hearth. +</p> + +<p> +By and by, merely for want of something to do, she would see what the old woman +had left for her in the hole of the wall. But when she put in her hand she +found nothing there, except the dust which she ought by this time to have wiped +away. Never reflecting that the wise woman had told her she would find food +there <i>when she was hungry</i>, she flew into one of her furies, calling her +a cheat, and a thief, and a liar, and an ugly old witch, and an ogress, and I +do not know how many wicked names besides. She raged until she was quite +exhausted, and then fell fast asleep on her chair. When she awoke the fire was +out. +</p> + +<p> +By this time she was hungry; but without looking in the hole, she began again +to storm at the wise woman, in which labor she would no doubt have once more +exhausted herself, had not something white caught her eye: it was the corner of +a napkin hanging from the hole in the wall. She bounded to it, and there was a +dinner for her of something strangely good—one of her favorite dishes, +only better than she had ever tasted it before. This might surely have at least +changed her mood towards the wise woman; but she only grumbled to herself that +it was as it ought to be, ate up the food, and lay down on the bed, never +thinking of fire, or dust, or water for the heather. +</p> + +<p> +The wind began to moan about the cottage, and grew louder and louder, till a +great gust came down the chimney, and again scattered the white ashes all over +the place. But the princess was by this time fast asleep, and never woke till +the wind had sunk to silence. One of the consequences, however, of sleeping +when one ought to be awake is waking when one ought to be asleep; and the +princess awoke in the black midnight, and found enough to keep her awake. For +although the wind had fallen, there was a far more terrible howling than that +of the wildest wind all about the cottage. Nor was the howling all; the air was +full of strange cries; and everywhere she heard the noise of claws scratching +against the house, which seemed all doors and windows, so crowded were the +sounds, and from so many directions. All the night long she lay half swooning, +yet listening to the hideous noises. But with the first glimmer of morning they +ceased. +</p> + +<p> +Then she said to herself, “How fortunate it was that I woke! They would +have eaten me up if I had been asleep.” The miserable little wretch +actually talked as if she had kept them out! If she had done her work in the +day, she would have slept through the terrors of the darkness, and awaked +fearless; whereas now, she had in the storehouse of her heart a whole harvest +of agonies, reaped from the dun fields of the night! +</p> + +<p> +They were neither wolves nor hyenas which had caused her such dismay, but +creatures of the air, more frightful still, which, as soon as the smoke of the +burning fir-wood ceased to spread itself abroad, and the sun was a sufficient +distance down the sky, and the lone cold woman was out, came flying and howling +about the cottage, trying to get in at every door and window. Down the chimney +they would have got, but that at the heart of the fire there always lay a +certain fir-cone, which looked like solid gold red-hot, and which, although it +might easily get covered up with ashes, so as to be quite invisible, was +continually in a glow fit to kindle all the fir-cones in the world; this it was +which had kept the horrible birds—some say they have a claw at the tip of +every wing-feather—from tearing the poor naughty princess to pieces, and +gobbling her up. +</p> + +<p> +When she rose and looked about her, she was dismayed to see what a state the +cottage was in. The fire was out, and the windows were all dim with the wings +and claws of the dirty birds, while the bed from which she had just risen was +brown and withered, and half its purple bells had fallen. But she consoled +herself that she could set all to rights in a few minutes—only she must +breakfast first. And, sure enough, there was a basin of the delicious bread and +milk ready for her in the hole of the wall! +</p> + +<p> +After she had eaten it, she felt comfortable, and sat for a long time building +castles in the air—till she was actually hungry again, without having +done an atom of work. She ate again, and was idle again, and ate again. Then it +grew dark, and she went trembling to bed, for now she remembered the horrors of +the last night. This time she never slept at all, but spent the long hours in +grievous terror, for the noises were worse than before. She vowed she would not +pass another night in such a hateful haunted old shed for all the ugly women, +witches, and ogresses in the wide world. In the morning, however, she fell +asleep, and slept late. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was of course her first thought, after which she could not avoid that +of work. It made her very miserable, but she feared the consequences of being +found with it undone. A few minutes before noon, she actually got up, took her +pinafore for a duster, and proceeded to dust the table. But the wood-ashes flew +about so, that it seemed useless to attempt getting rid of them, and she sat +down again to think what was to be done. But there is very little indeed to be +done when we will not do that which we have to do. +</p> + +<p> +Her first thought now was to run away at once while the sun was high, and get +through the forest before night came on. She fancied she could easily go back +the way she had come, and get home to her father’s palace. But not the +most experienced traveller in the world can ever go back the way the wise woman +has brought him. +</p> + +<p> +She got up and went to the door. It was locked! What could the old woman have +meant by telling her not to leave the cottage? She was indignant. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman had meant to make it difficult, but not impossible. Before the +princess, however, could find the way out, she heard a hand at the door, and +darted in terror behind it. The wise woman opened it, and, leaving it open, +walked straight to the hearth. Rosamond immediately slid out, ran a little way, +and then laid herself down in the long heather. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V.</h2> + +<p> +The wise woman walked straight up to the hearth, looked at the fire, looked at +the bed, glanced round the room, and went up to the table. When she saw the one +streak in the thick dust which the princess had left there, a smile, half sad, +half pleased, like the sun peeping through a cloud on a rainy day in spring, +gleamed over her face. She went at once to the door, and called in a loud +voice, +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond, come to me.” +</p> + +<p> +All the wolves and hyenas, fast asleep in the wood, heard her voice, and +shivered in their dreams. No wonder then that the princess trembled, and found +herself compelled, she could not understand how, to obey the summons. She rose, +like the guilty thing she felt, forsook of herself the hiding-place she had +chosen, and walked slowly back to the cottage she had left full of the signs of +her shame. When she entered, she saw the wise woman on her knees, building up +the fire with fir-cones. Already the flame was climbing through the heap in all +directions, crackling gently, and sending a sweet aromatic odor through the +dusty cottage. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my part of the work,” she said, rising. “Now you do +yours. But first let me remind you that if you had not put it off, you would +have found it not only far easier, but by and by quite pleasant work, much more +pleasant than you can imagine now; nor would you have found the time go +wearily: you would neither have slept in the day and let the fire out, nor +waked at night and heard the howling of the beast-birds. More than all, you +would have been glad to see me when I came back; and would have leaped into my +arms instead of standing there, looking so ugly and foolish.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, suddenly she held up before the princess a tiny mirror, so clear +that nobody looking into it could tell what it was made of, or even see it at +all—only the thing reflected in it. Rosamond saw a child with dirty fat +cheeks, greedy mouth, cowardly eyes—which, not daring to look forward, +seemed trying to hide behind an impertinent nose—stooping shoulders, +tangled hair, tattered clothes, and smears and stains everywhere. That was what +she had made herself. And to tell the truth, she was shocked at the sight, and +immediately began, in her dirty heart, to lay the blame on the wise woman, +because she had taken her away from her nurses and her fine clothes; while all +the time she knew well enough that, close by the heather-bed, was the loveliest +little well, just big enough to wash in, the water of which was always +springing fresh from the ground, and running away through the wall. Beside it +lay the whitest of linen towels, with a comb made of mother-of-pearl, and a +brush of fir-needles, any one of which she had been far too lazy to use. She +dashed the glass out of the wise woman’s hand, and there it lay, broken +into a thousand pieces! +</p> + +<p> +Without a word, the wise woman stooped, and gathered the fragments—did +not leave searching until she had gathered the last atom, and she laid them all +carefully, one by one, in the fire, now blazing high on the hearth. Then she +stood up and looked at the princess, who had been watching her sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond,” she said, with a countenance awful in its sternness, +“until you have cleansed this room—” +</p> + +<p> +“She calls it a room!” sneered the princess to herself. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have no morsel to eat. You may drink of the well, but nothing +else you shall have. When the work I set you is done, you will find food in the +same place as before. I am going from home again; and again I warn you not to +leave the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“She calls it a house!—It’s a good thing she’s going +out of it anyhow!” said the princess, turning her back for mere rudeness, +for she was one who, even if she liked a thing before, would dislike it the +moment any person in authority over her desired her to do it. +</p> + +<p> +When she looked again, the wise woman had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the princess ran at once to the door, and tried to open it; but open +it would not. She searched on all sides, but could discover no way of getting +out. The windows would not open—at least she could not open them; and the +only outlet seemed the chimney, which she was afraid to try because of the +fire, which looked angry, she thought, and shot out green flames when she went +near it. So she sat down to consider. One may well wonder what room for +consideration there was—with all her work lying undone behind her. She +sat thus, however, considering, as she called it, until hunger began to sting +her, when she jumped up and put her hand as usual in the hole of the wall: +there was nothing there. She fell straight into one of her stupid rages; but +neither her hunger nor the hole in the wall heeded her rage. Then, in a burst +of self-pity, she fell a-weeping, but neither the hunger nor the hole cared for +her tears. The darkness began to come on, and her hunger grew and grew, and the +terror of the wild noises of the last night invaded her. Then she began to feel +cold, and saw that the fire was dying. She darted to the heap of cones, and fed +it. It blazed up cheerily, and she was comforted a little. Then she thought +with herself it would surely be better to give in so far, and do a little work, +than die of hunger. So catching up a duster, she began upon the table. The dust +flew about and nearly choked her. She ran to the well to drink, and was +refreshed and encouraged. Perceiving now that it was a tedious plan to wipe the +dust from the table on to the floor, whence it would have all to be swept up +again, she got a wooden platter, wiped the dust into that, carried it to the +fire, and threw it in. But all the time she was getting more and more hungry +and, although she tried the hole again and again, it was only to become more +and more certain that work she must if she would eat. +</p> + +<p> +At length all the furniture was dusted, and she began to sweep the floor, which +happily, she thought of sprinkling with water, as from the window she had seen +them do to the marble court of the palace. That swept, she rushed again to the +hole—but still no food! She was on the verge of another rage, when the +thought came that she might have forgotten something. To her dismay she found +that table and chairs and every thing was again covered with dust—not so +badly as before, however. Again she set to work, driven by hunger, and drawn by +the hope of eating, and yet again, after a second careful wiping, sought the +hole. But no! nothing was there for her! What could it mean? +</p> + +<p> +Her asking this question was a sign of progress: it showed that she expected +the wise woman to keep her word. Then she bethought her that she had forgotten +the household utensils, and the dishes and plates, some of which wanted to be +washed as well as dusted. +</p> + +<p> +Faint with hunger, she set to work yet again. One thing made her think of +another, until at length she had cleaned every thing she could think of. Now +surely she must find some food in the hole! +</p> + +<p> +When this time also there was nothing, she began once more to abuse the wise +woman as false and treacherous;—but ah! there was the bed unwatered! That +was soon amended.—Still no supper! Ah! there was the hearth unswept, and +the fire wanted making up!—Still no supper! What else could there be? She +was at her wits’ end, and in very weariness, not laziness this time, sat +down and gazed into the fire. There, as she gazed, she spied something +brilliant,—shining even, in the midst of the fire: it was the little +mirror all whole again; but little she knew that the dust which she had thrown +into the fire had helped to heal it. She drew it out carefully, and, looking +into it, saw, not indeed the ugly creature she had seen there before, but still +a very dirty little animal; whereupon she hurried to the well, took off her +clothes, plunged into it, and washed herself clean. Then she brushed and combed +her hair, made her clothes as tidy as might be, and ran to the hole in the +wall: there was a huge basin of bread and milk! +</p> + +<p> +Never had she eaten any thing with half the relish! Alas! however, when she had +finished, she did not wash the basin, but left it as it was, revealing how +entirely all the rest had been done only from hunger. Then she threw herself on +the heather, and was fast asleep in a moment. Never an evil bird came near her +all that night, nor had she so much as one troubled dream. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning as she lay awake before getting up, she spied what seemed a door +behind the tall eight-day clock that stood silent in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she thought, “that must be the way out!” and got +up instantly. The first thing she did, however, was to go to the hole in the +wall. Nothing was there. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am hardly used!” she cried aloud. “All that cleaning +for the cross old woman yesterday, and this for my trouble,—nothing for +breakfast! Not even a crust of bread! Does Mistress Ogress fancy a princess +will bear that?” +</p> + +<p> +The poor foolish creature seemed to think that the work of one day ought to +serve for the next day too! But that is nowhere the way in the whole universe. +How could there be a universe in that case? And even she never dreamed of +applying the same rule to her breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +“How good I was all yesterday!” she said, “and how hungry and +ill used I am to-day!” +</p> + +<p> +But she would <i>not</i> be a slave, and do over again to-day what she had done +only last night! <i>She</i> didn’t care about her breakfast! She might +have it no doubt if she dusted all the wretched place again, but she was not +going to do that—at least, without seeing first what lay behind the +clock! +</p> + +<p> +Off she darted, and putting her hand behind the clock found the latch of a +door. It lifted, and the door opened a little way. By squeezing hard, she +managed to get behind the clock, and so through the door. But how she stared, +when instead of the open heath, she found herself on the marble floor of a +large and stately room, lighted only from above. Its walls were strengthened by +pilasters, and in every space between was a large picture, from cornice to +floor. She did not know what to make of it. Surely she had run all round the +cottage, and certainly had seen nothing of this size near it! She forgot that +she had also run round what she took for a hay-mow, a peat-stack, and several +other things which looked of no consequence in the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +“So, then,” she cried, “the old woman <i>is</i> a cheat! I +believe she’s an ogress, after all, and lives in a palace—though +she pretends it’s only a cottage, to keep people from suspecting that she +eats good little children like me!” +</p> + +<p> +Had the princess been tolerably tractable, she would, by this time, have known +a good deal about the wise woman’s beautiful house, whereas she had never +till now got farther than the porch. Neither was she at all in its innermost +places now. +</p> + +<p> +But, king’s daughter as she was, she was not a little daunted when, +stepping forward from the recess of the door, she saw what a great lordly hall +it was. She dared hardly look to the other end, it seemed so far off: so she +began to gaze at the things near her, and the pictures first of all, for she +had a great liking for pictures. One in particular attracted her attention. She +came back to it several times, and at length stood absorbed in it. +</p> + +<p> +A blue summer sky, with white fleecy clouds floating beneath it, hung over a +hill green to the very top, and alive with streams darting down its sides +toward the valley below. On the face of the hill strayed a flock of sheep +feeding, attended by a shepherd and two dogs. A little way apart, a girl stood +with bare feet in a brook, building across it a bridge of rough stones. The +wind was blowing her hair back from her rosy face. A lamb was feeding close +beside her; and a sheepdog was trying to reach her hand to lick it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how I wish I were that little girl!” said the princess aloud. +“I wonder how it is that some people are made to be so much happier than +others! If I were that little girl, no one would ever call me naughty.” +</p> + +<p> +She gazed and gazed at the picture. At length she said to herself, +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe it is a picture. It is the real country, with a real +hill, and a real little girl upon it. I shall soon see whether this isn’t +another of the old witch’s cheats!” +</p> + +<p> +She went close up to the picture, lifted her foot, and stepped over the frame. +</p> + +<p> +“I am free, I am free!” she exclaimed; and she felt the wind upon +her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of a closing door struck on her ear. She turned—and there was a +blank wall, without door or window, behind her. The hill with the sheep was +before her, and she set out at once to reach it. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if I am asked how this could be, I can only answer, that it was a result +of the interaction of things outside and things inside, of the wise +woman’s skill, and the silly child’s folly. If this does not +satisfy my questioner, I can only add, that the wise woman was able to do far +more wonderful things than this. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI.</h2> + +<p> +Meantime the wise woman was busy as she always was; and her business now was +with the child of the shepherd and shepherdess, away in the north. Her name was +Agnes. +</p> + +<p> +Her father and mother were poor, and could not give her many things. Rosamond +would have utterly despised the rude, simple playthings she had. Yet in one +respect they were of more value far than hers: the king bought Rosamond’s +with his money; Agnes’s father made hers with his hands. +</p> + +<p> +And while Agnes had but few things—not seeing many things about her, and +not even knowing that there were many things anywhere, she did not wish for +many things, and was therefore neither covetous nor avaricious. +</p> + +<p> +She played with the toys her father made her, and thought them the most +wonderful things in the world—windmills, and little crooks, and +water-wheels, and sometimes lambs made all of wool, and dolls made out of the +leg-bones of sheep, which her mother dressed for her; and of such playthings +she was never tired. Sometimes, however, she preferred playing with stones, +which were plentiful, and flowers, which were few, or the brooks that ran down +the hill, of which, although they were many, she could only play with one at a +time, and that, indeed, troubled her a little—or live lambs that were not +all wool, or the sheep-dogs, which were very friendly with her, and the best of +playfellows, as she thought, for she had no human ones to compare them with. +Neither was she greedy after nice things, but content, as well she might be, +with the homely food provided for her. Nor was she by nature particularly +self-willed or disobedient; she generally did what her father and mother +wished, and believed what they told her. But by degrees they had spoiled her; +and this was the way: they were so proud of her that they always repeated every +thing she said, and told every thing she did, even when she was present; and so +full of admiration of their child were they, that they wondered and laughed at +and praised things in her which in another child would never have struck them +as the least remarkable, and some things even which would in another have +disgusted them altogether. Impertinent and rude things done by <i>their</i> +child they thought <i>so</i> clever! laughing at them as something quite +marvellous; her commonplace speeches were said over again as if they had been +the finest poetry; and the pretty ways which every moderately good child has +were extolled as if the result of her excellent taste, and the choice of her +judgment and will. They would even say sometimes that she ought not to hear her +own praises for fear it should make her vain, and then whisper them behind +their hands, but so loud that she could not fail to hear every word. The +consequence was that she soon came to believe—so soon, that she could not +recall the time when she did not believe, as the most absolute fact in the +universe, that she was <i>Somebody;</i> that is, she became most immoderately +conceited. +</p> + +<p> +Now as the least atom of conceit is a thing to be ashamed of, you may fancy +what she was like with such a quantity of it inside her! +</p> + +<p> +At first it did not show itself outside in any very active form; but the wise +woman had been to the cottage, and had seen her sitting alone, with such a +smile of self-satisfaction upon her face as would have been quite startling to +her, if she had ever been startled at any thing; for through that smile she +could see lying at the root of it the worm that made it. For some smiles are +like the ruddiness of certain apples, which is owing to a centipede, or other +creeping thing, coiled up at the heart of them. Only her worm had a face and +shape the very image of her own; and she looked so simpering, and mawkish, and +self-conscious, and silly, that she made the wise woman feel rather sick. +</p> + +<p> +Not that the child was a fool. Had she been, the wise woman would have only +pitied and loved her, instead of feeling sick when she looked at her. She had +very fair abilities, and were she once but made humble, would be capable not +only of doing a good deal in time, but of beginning at once to grow to no end. +But, if she were not made humble, her growing would be to a mass of distorted +shapes all huddled together; so that, although the body she now showed might +grow up straight and well-shaped and comely to behold, the new body that was +growing inside of it, and would come out of it when she died, would be ugly, +and crooked this way and that, like an aged hawthorn that has lived hundreds of +years exposed upon all sides to salt sea-winds. +</p> + +<p> +As time went on, this disease of self-conceit went on too, gradually devouring +the good that was in her. For there is no fault that does not bring its +brothers and sisters and cousins to live with it. By degrees, from thinking +herself so clever, she came to fancy that whatever seemed to her, must of +course be the correct judgment, and whatever she wished, the right thing; and +grew so obstinate, that at length her parents feared to thwart her in any +thing, knowing well that she would never give in. But there are victories far +worse than defeats; and to overcome an angel too gentle to put out all his +strength, and ride away in triumph on the back of a devil, is one of the +poorest. +</p> + +<p> +So long as she was left to take her own way and do as she would, she gave her +parents little trouble. She would play about by herself in the little garden +with its few hardy flowers, or amongst the heather where the bees were busy; or +she would wander away amongst the hills, and be nobody knew where, sometimes +from morning to night; nor did her parents venture to find fault with her. +</p> + +<p> +She never went into rages like the princess, and would have thought +Rosamond—oh, so ugly and vile! if she had seen her in one of her +passions. But she was no better, for all that, and was quite as ugly in the +eyes of the wise woman, who could not only see but read her face. What is there +to choose between a face distorted to hideousness by anger, and one distorted +to silliness by self-complacency? True, there is more hope of helping the angry +child out of her form of selfishness than the conceited child out of hers; but +on the other hand, the conceited child was not so terrible or dangerous as the +wrathful one. The conceited one, however, was sometimes very angry, and then +her anger was more spiteful than the other’s; and, again, the wrathful +one was often very conceited too. So that, on the whole, of two very unpleasant +creatures, I would say that the king’s daughter would have been the +worse, had not the shepherd’s been quite as bad. But, as I have said, the +wise woman had her eye upon her: she saw that something special must be done, +else she would be one of those who kneel to their own shadows till feet grow on +their knees; then go down on their hands till their hands grow into feet; then +lay their faces on the ground till they grow into snouts; when at last they are +a hideous sort of lizards, each of which believes himself the best, wisest, and +loveliest being in the world, yea, the very centre of the universe. And so they +run about forever looking for their own shadows, that they may worship them, +and miserable because they cannot find them, being themselves too near the +ground to have any shadows; and what becomes of them at last there is but one +who knows. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman, therefore, one day walked up to the door of the +shepherd’s cottage, dressed like a poor woman, and asked for a drink of +water. The shepherd’s wife looked at her, liked her, and brought her a +cup of milk. The wise woman took it, for she made it a rule to accept every +kindness that was offered her. +</p> + +<p> +Agnes was not by nature a greedy girl, as I have said; but self-conceit will go +far to generate every other vice under the sun. Vanity, which is a form of +self-conceit, has repeatedly shown itself as the deepest feeling in the heart +of a horrible murderess. +</p> + +<p> +That morning, at breakfast, her mother had stinted her in milk—just a +little—that she might have enough to make some milk-porridge for their +dinner. Agnes did not mind it at the time, but when she saw the milk now given +to a beggar, as she called the wise woman—though, surely, one might ask a +draught of water, and accept a draught of milk, without being a beggar in any +such sense as Agnes’s contemptuous use of the word implied—a cloud +came upon her forehead, and a double vertical wrinkle settled over her nose. +The wise woman saw it, for all her business was with Agnes though she little +knew it, and, rising, went and offered the cup to the child, where she sat with +her knitting in a corner. Agnes looked at it, did not want it, was inclined to +refuse it from a beggar, but thinking it would show her consequence to assert +her rights, took it and drank it up. For whoever is possessed by a devil, +judges with the mind of that devil; and hence Agnes was guilty of such a +meanness as many who are themselves capable of something just as bad will +consider incredible. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman waited till she had finished it—then, looking into the +empty cup, said: +</p> + +<p> +“You might have given me back as much as you had no claim upon!” +</p> + +<p> +Agnes turned away and made no answer—far less from shame than +indignation. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman looked at the mother. +</p> + +<p> +“You should not have offered it to her if you did not mean her to have +it,” said the mother, siding with the devil in her child against the wise +woman and her child too. Some foolish people think they take another’s +part when they take the part he takes. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman said nothing, but fixed her eyes upon her, and soon the mother +hid her face in her apron weeping. Then she turned again to Agnes, who had +never looked round but sat with her back to both, and suddenly lapped her in +the folds of her cloak. When the mother again lifted her eyes, she had +vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Never supposing she had carried away her child, but uncomfortable because of +what she had said to the poor woman, the mother went to the door, and called +after her as she toiled slowly up the hill. But she never turned her head; and +the mother went back into her cottage. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman walked close past the shepherd and his dogs, and through the +midst of his flock of sheep. The shepherd wondered where she could be +going—right up the hill. There was something strange about her too, he +thought; and he followed her with his eyes as she went up and up. +</p> + +<p> +It was near sunset, and as the sun went down, a gray cloud settled on the top +of the mountain, which his last rays turned into a rosy gold. Straight into +this cloud the shepherd saw the woman hold her pace, and in it she vanished. He +little imagined that his child was under her cloak. +</p> + +<p> +He went home as usual in the evening, but Agnes had not come in. They were +accustomed to such an absence now and then, and were not at first frightened; +but when it grew dark and she did not appear, the husband set out with his dogs +in one direction, and the wife in another, to seek their child. Morning came +and they had not found her. Then the whole country-side arose to search for the +missing Agnes; but day after day and night after night passed, and nothing was +discovered of or concerning her, until at length all gave up the search in +despair except the mother, although she was nearly convinced now that the poor +woman had carried her off. +</p> + +<p> +One day she had wandered some distance from her cottage, thinking she might +come upon the remains of her daughter at the foot of some cliff, when she came +suddenly, instead, upon a disconsolate-looking creature sitting on a stone by +the side of a stream. +</p> + +<p> +Her hair hung in tangles from her head; her clothes were tattered, and through +the rents her skin showed in many places; her cheeks were white, and worn thin +with hunger; the hollows were dark under her eyes, and they stood out scared +and wild. When she caught sight of the shepherdess, she jumped to her feet, and +would have run away, but fell down in a faint. +</p> + +<p> +At first sight the mother had taken her for her own child, but now she saw, +with a pang of disappointment, that she had mistaken. Full of compassion, +nevertheless, she said to herself: +</p> + +<p> +“If she is not my Agnes, she is as much in need of help as if she were. +If I cannot be good to my own, I will be as good as I can to some other +woman’s; and though I should scorn to be consoled for the loss of one by +the presence of another, I yet may find some gladness in rescuing one child +from the death which has taken the other.” +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps her words were not just like these, but her thoughts were. She took up +the child, and carried her home. And this is how Rosamond came to occupy the +place of the little girl whom she had envied in the picture. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII.</h2> + +<p> +Notwithstanding the differences between the two girls, which were, indeed, so +many that most people would have said they were not in the least alike, they +were the same in this, that each cared more for her own fancies and desires +than for any thing else in the world. But I will tell you another difference: +the princess was like several children in one—such was the variety of her +moods; and in one mood she had no recollection or care about any thing whatever +belonging to a previous mood—not even if it had left her but a moment +before, and had been so violent as to make her ready to put her hand in the +fire to get what she wanted. Plainly she was the mere puppet of her moods, and +more than that, any cunning nurse who knew her well enough could call or send +away those moods almost as she pleased, like a showman pulling strings behind a +show. Agnes, on the contrary, seldom changed her mood, but kept that of calm +assured self-satisfaction. Father nor mother had ever by wise punishment helped +her to gain a victory over herself, and do what she did not like or choose; and +their folly in reasoning with one unreasonable had fixed her in her conceit. +She would actually nod her head to herself in complacent pride that she had +stood out against them. This, however, was not so difficult as to justify even +the pride of having conquered, seeing she loved them so little, and paid so +little attention to the arguments and persuasions they used. Neither, when she +found herself wrapped in the dark folds of the wise woman’s cloak, did +she behave in the least like the princess, for she was not afraid. +“She’ll soon set me down,” she said, too self-important to +suppose that any one would dare do her an injury. +</p> + +<p> +Whether it be a good thing or a bad not to be afraid depends on what the +fearlessness is founded upon. Some have no fear, because they have no knowledge +of the danger: there is nothing fine in that. Some are too stupid to be afraid: +there is nothing fine in that. Some who are not easily frightened would yet +turn their backs and run, the moment they were frightened: such never had more +courage than fear. But the man who will do his work in spite of his fear is a +man of true courage. The fearlessness of Agnes was only ignorance: she did not +know what it was to be hurt; she had never read a single story of giant, or +ogress or wolf; and her mother had never carried out one of her threats of +punishment. If the wise woman had but pinched her, she would have shown herself +an abject little coward, trembling with fear at every change of motion so long +as she carried her. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing such, however, was in the wise woman’s plan for the curing of +her. On and on she carried her without a word. She knew that if she set her +down she would never run after her like the princess, at least not before the +evil thing was already upon her. On and on she went, never halting, never +letting the light look in, or Agnes look out. She walked very fast, and got +home to her cottage very soon after the princess had gone from it. +</p> + +<p> +But she did not set Agnes down either in the cottage or in the great hall. She +had other places, none of them alike. The place she had chosen for Agnes was a +strange one—such a one as is to be found nowhere else in the wide world. +</p> + +<p> +It was a great hollow sphere, made of a substance similar to that of the mirror +which Rosamond had broken, but differently compounded. That substance no one +could see by itself. It had neither door, nor window, nor any opening to break +its perfect roundness. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman carried Agnes into a dark room, there undressed her, took from +her hand her knitting-needles, and put her, naked as she was born, into the +hollow sphere. +</p> + +<p> +What sort of a place it was she could not tell. She could see nothing but a +faint cold bluish light all about her. She could not feel that any thing +supported her, and yet she did not sink. She stood for a while, perfectly calm, +then sat down. Nothing bad could happen to <i>her</i>—she was so +important! And, indeed, it was but this: she had cared only for Somebody, and +now she was going to have only Somebody. Her own choice was going to be carried +a good deal farther for her than she would have knowingly carried it for +herself. +</p> + +<p> +After sitting a while, she wished she had something to do, but nothing came. A +little longer, and it grew wearisome. She would see whether she could not walk +out of the strange luminous dusk that surrounded her. +</p> + +<p> +Walk she found she could, well enough, but walk out she could not. On and on +she went, keeping as much in a straight line as she might, but after walking +until she was thoroughly tired, she found herself no nearer out of her prison +than before. She had not, indeed, advanced a single step; for, in whatever +direction she tried to go, the sphere turned round and round, answering her +feet accordingly. Like a squirrel in his cage she but kept placing another spot +of the cunningly suspended sphere under her feet, and she would have been still +only at its lowest point after walking for ages. +</p> + +<p> +At length she cried aloud; but there was no answer. It grew dreary and +drearier—in her, that is: outside there was no change. Nothing was +overhead, nothing under foot, nothing on either hand, but the same pale, faint, +bluish glimmer. She wept at last, then grew very angry, and then sullen; but +nobody heeded whether she cried or laughed. It was all the same to the cold +unmoving twilight that rounded her. On and on went the dreary hours—or +did they go at all?—“no change, no pause, no hope;”—on +and on till she <i>felt</i> she was forgotten, and then she grew strangely +still and fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The moment she was asleep, the wise woman came, lifted her out, and laid her in +her bosom; fed her with a wonderful milk, which she received without knowing +it; nursed her all the night long, and, just ere she woke, laid her back in the +blue sphere again. +</p> + +<p> +When first she came to herself, she thought the horrors of the preceding day +had been all a dream of the night. But they soon asserted themselves as facts, +for here they were!—nothing to see but a cold blue light, and nothing to +do but see it. Oh, how slowly the hours went by! She lost all notion of time. +If she had been told that she had been there twenty years, she would have +believed it—or twenty minutes—it would have been all the same: +except for weariness, time was for her no more. +</p> + +<p> +Another night came, and another still, during both of which the wise woman +nursed and fed her. But she knew nothing of that, and the same one dreary day +seemed ever brooding over her. +</p> + +<p> +All at once, on the third day, she was aware that a naked child was seated +beside her. But there was something about the child that made her shudder. She +never looked at Agnes, but sat with her chin sunk on her chest, and her eyes +staring at her own toes. She was the color of pale earth, with a pinched nose, +and a mere slit in her face for a mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“How ugly she is!” thought Agnes. “What business has she +beside me!” +</p> + +<p> +But it was so lonely that she would have been glad to play with a serpent, and +put out her hand to touch her. She touched nothing. The child, also, put out +her hand—but in the direction away from Agnes. And that was well, for if +she had touched Agnes it would have killed her. Then Agnes said, “Who are +you?” And the little girl said, “Who are you?” “I am +Agnes,” said Agnes; and the little girl said, “I am Agnes.” +Then Agnes thought she was mocking her, and said, “You are ugly;” +and the little girl said, “You are ugly.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Agnes lost her temper, and put out her hands to seize the little girl; but +lo! the little girl was gone, and she found herself tugging at her own hair. +She let go; and there was the little girl again! Agnes was furious now, and +flew at her to bite her. But she found her teeth in her own arm, and the little +girl was gone—only to return again; and each time she came back she was +tenfold uglier than before. And now Agnes hated her with her whole heart. +</p> + +<p> +The moment she hated her, it flashed upon her with a sickening disgust that the +child was not another, but her Self, her Somebody, and that she was now shut up +with her for ever and ever—no more for one moment ever to be alone. In +her agony of despair, sleep descended, and she slept. +</p> + +<p> +When she woke, there was the little girl, heedless, ugly, miserable, staring at +her own toes. All at once, the creature began to smile, but with such an +odious, self-satisfied expression, that Agnes felt ashamed of seeing her. Then +she began to pat her own cheeks, to stroke her own body, and examine her +finger-ends, nodding her head with satisfaction. Agnes felt that there could +not be such another hateful, ape-like creature, and at the same time was +perfectly aware she was only doing outside of her what she herself had been +doing, as long as she could remember, inside of her. +</p> + +<p> +She turned sick at herself, and would gladly have been put out of existence, +but for three days the odious companionship went on. By the third day, Agnes +was not merely sick but ashamed of the life she had hitherto led, was +despicable in her own eyes, and astonished that she had never seen the truth +concerning herself before. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning she woke in the arms of the wise woman; the horror had +vanished from her sight, and two heavenly eyes were gazing upon her. She wept +and clung to her, and the more she clung, the more tenderly did the great +strong arms close around her. +</p> + +<p> +When she had lain thus for a while, the wise woman carried her into her +cottage, and washed her in the little well; then dressed her in clean garments, +and gave her bread and milk. When she had eaten it, she called her to her, and +said very solemnly,— +</p> + +<p> +“Agnes, you must not imagine you are cured. That you are ashamed of +yourself now is no sign that the cause for such shame has ceased. In new +circumstances, especially after you have done well for a while, you will be in +danger of thinking just as much of yourself as before. So beware of yourself. I +am going from home, and leave you in charge of the house. Do just as I tell you +till my return.” +</p> + +<p> +She then gave her the same directions she had formerly given +Rosamond—with this difference, that she told her to go into the +picture-hall when she pleased, showing her the entrance, against which the +clock no longer stood—and went away, closing the door behind her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII.</h2> + +<p> +As soon as she was left alone, Agnes set to work tidying and dusting the +cottage, made up the fire, watered the bed, and cleaned the inside of the +windows: the wise woman herself always kept the outside of them clean. When she +had done, she found her dinner—of the same sort she was used to at home, +but better—in the hole of the wall. When she had eaten it, she went to +look at the pictures. +</p> + +<p> +By this time her old disposition had begun to rouse again. She had been doing +her duty, and had in consequence begun again to think herself Somebody. However +strange it may well seem, to do one’s duty will make any one conceited +who only does it sometimes. Those who do it always would as soon think of being +conceited of eating their dinner as of doing their duty. What honest boy would +pride himself on not picking pockets? A thief who was trying to reform would. +To be conceited of doing one’s duty is then a sign of how little one does +it, and how little one sees what a contemptible thing it is not to do it. Could +any but a low creature be conceited of not being contemptible? Until our duty +becomes to us common as breathing, we are poor creatures. +</p> + +<p> +So Agnes began to stroke herself once more, forgetting her late self-stroking +companion, and never reflecting that she was now doing what she had then +abhorred. And in this mood she went into the picture-gallery. +</p> + +<p> +The first picture she saw represented a square in a great city, one side of +which was occupied by a splendid marble palace, with great flights of broad +steps leading up to the door. Between it and the square was a marble-paved +court, with gates of brass, at which stood sentries in gorgeous uniforms, and +to which was affixed the following proclamation in letters of gold, large +enough for Agnes to read:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“By the will of the King, from this time until further notice, every +stray child found in the realm shall be brought without a moment’s delay +to the palace. Whoever shall be found having done otherwise shall straightway +lose his head by the hand of the public executioner.” +</p> + +<p> +Agnes’s heart beat loud, and her face flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Can there be such a city in the world?” she said to herself. +“If I only knew where it was, I should set out for it at once. +<i>There</i> would be the place for a clever girl like me!” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes fell on the picture which had so enticed Rosamond. It was the very +country where her father fed his flocks. Just round the shoulder of the hill +was the cottage where her parents lived, where she was born and whence she had +been carried by the beggar-woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said, “they didn’t know me there. They little +thought what I could be, if I had the chance. If I were but in this good, kind, +loving, generous king’s palace, I should soon be such a great lady as +they never saw! Then they would understand what a good little girl I had always +been! And I shouldn’t forget my poor parents like some I have read of. +<i>I</i> would be generous. <i>I</i> should never be selfish and proud like +girls in story-books!” +</p> + +<p> +As she said this, she turned her back with disdain upon the picture of her +home, and setting herself before the picture of the palace, stared at it with +wide ambitious eyes, and a heart whose every beat was a throb of arrogant +self-esteem. +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd-child was now worse than ever the poor princess had been. For the +wise woman had given her a terrible lesson one of which the princess was not +capable, and she had known what it meant; yet here she was as bad as ever, +therefore worse than before. The ugly creature whose presence had made her so +miserable had indeed crept out of sight and mind too—but where was she? +Nestling in her very heart, where most of all she had her company, and least of +all could see her. The wise woman had called her out, that Agnes might see what +sort of creature she was herself; but now she was snug in her soul’s bed +again, and she did not even suspect she was there. +</p> + +<p> +After gazing a while at the palace picture, during which her ambitious pride +rose and rose, she turned yet again in condescending mood, and honored the home +picture with one stare more. +</p> + +<p> +“What a poor, miserable spot it is compared with this lordly +palace!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +But presently she spied something in it she had not seen before, and drew +nearer. It was the form of a little girl, building a bridge of stones over one +of the hill-brooks. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, there I am myself!” she said. “That is just how I used +to do.—No,” she resumed, “it is not me. That snub-nosed +little fright could never be meant for me! It was the frock that made me think +so. But it <i>is</i> a picture of the place. I declare, I can see the smoke of +the cottage rising from behind the hill! What a dull, dirty, insignificant spot +it is! And what a life to lead there!” +</p> + +<p> +She turned once more to the city picture. And now a strange thing took place. +In proportion as the other, to the eyes of her mind, receded into the +background, this, to her present bodily eyes, appeared to come forward and +assume reality. At last, after it had been in this way growing upon her for +some time, she gave a cry of conviction, and said aloud,— +</p> + +<p> +“I do believe it is real! That frame is only a trick of the woman to make +me fancy it a picture lest I should go and make my fortune. She is a witch, the +ugly old creature! It would serve her right to tell the king and have her +punished for not taking me to the palace—one of his poor lost children he +is so fond of! I should like to see her ugly old head cut off. Anyhow I will +try my luck without asking her leave. How she has ill used me!” +</p> + +<p> +But at that moment, she heard the voice of the wise woman calling, +“Agnes!” and, smoothing her face, she tried to look as good as she +could, and walked back into the cottage. There stood the wise woman, looking +all round the place, and examining her work. She fixed her eyes upon Agnes in a +way that confused her, and made her cast hers down, for she felt as if she were +reading her thoughts. The wise woman, however, asked no questions, but began to +talk about her work, approving of some of it, which filled her with arrogance, +and showing how some of it might have been done better, which filled her with +resentment. But the wise woman seemed to take no care of what she might be +thinking, and went straight on with her lesson. By the time it was over, the +power of reading thoughts would not have been necessary to a knowledge of what +was in the mind of Agnes, for it had all come to the surface—that is up +into her face, which is the surface of the mind. Ere it had time to sink down +again, the wise woman caught up the little mirror, and held it before her: +Agnes saw her Somebody—the very embodiment of miserable conceit and ugly +ill-temper. She gave such a scream of horror that the wise woman pitied her, +and laying aside the mirror, took her upon her knees, and talked to her most +kindly and solemnly; in particular about the necessity of destroying the ugly +things that come out of the heart—so ugly that they make the very face +over them ugly also. +</p> + +<p> +And what was Agnes doing all the time the wise woman was talking to her? Would +you believe it?—instead of thinking how to kill the ugly things in her +heart, she was with all her might resolving to be more careful of her face, +that is, to keep down the things in her heart so that they should not show in +her face, she was resolving to be a hypocrite as well as a self-worshipper. Her +heart was wormy, and the worms were eating very fast at it now. +</p> + +<p> +Then the wise woman laid her gently down upon the heather-bed, and she fell +fast asleep, and had an awful dream about her Somebody. +</p> + +<p> +When she woke in the morning, instead of getting up to do the work of the +house, she lay thinking—to evil purpose. In place of taking her dream as +a warning, and thinking over what the wise woman had said the night before, she +communed with herself in this fashion:— +</p> + +<p> +“If I stay here longer, I shall be miserable, It is nothing better than +slavery. The old witch shows me horrible things in the day to set me dreaming +horrible things in the night. If I don’t run away, that frightful blue +prison and the disgusting girl will come back, and I shall go out of my mind. +How I do wish I could find the way to the good king’s palace! I shall go +and look at the picture again—if it be a picture—as soon as +I’ve got my clothes on. The work can wait. It’s not my work. +It’s the old witch’s; and she ought to do it herself.” +</p> + +<p> +She jumped out of bed, and hurried on her clothes. There was no wise woman to +be seen; and she hastened into the hall. There was the picture, with the marble +palace, and the proclamation shining in letters of gold upon its gates of +brass. She stood before it, and gazed and gazed; and all the time it kept +growing upon her in some strange way, until at last she was fully persuaded +that it was no picture, but a real city, square, and marble palace, seen +through a framed opening in the wall. She ran up to the frame, stepped over it, +felt the wind blow upon her cheek, heard the sound of a closing door behind +her, and was free. <i>Free</i> was she, with that creature inside her? +</p> + +<p> +The same moment a terrible storm of thunder and lightning, wind and rain, came +on. The uproar was appalling. Agnes threw herself upon the ground, hid her face +in her hands, and there lay until it was over. As soon as she felt the sun +shining on her, she rose. There was the city far away on the horizon. Without +once turning to take a farewell look of the place she was leaving, she set off, +as fast as her feet would carry her, in the direction of the city. So eager was +she, that again and again she fell, but only to get up, and run on faster than +before. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX.</h2> + +<p> +The shepherdess carried Rosamond home, gave her a warm bath in the tub in which +she washed her linen, made her some bread-and-milk, and after she had eaten it, +put her to bed in Agnes’s crib, where she slept all the rest of that day +and all the following night. +</p> + +<p> +When at last she opened her eyes, it was to see around her a far poorer cottage +than the one she had left—very bare and uncomfortable indeed, she might +well have thought; but she had come through such troubles of late, in the way +of hunger and weariness and cold and fear, that she was not altogether in her +ordinary mood of fault-finding, and so was able to lie enjoying the thought +that at length she was safe, and going to be fed and kept warm. The idea of +doing any thing in return for shelter and food and clothes, did not, however, +even cross her mind. +</p> + +<p> +But the shepherdess was one of that plentiful number who can be wiser +concerning other women’s children than concerning their own. Such will +often give you very tolerable hints as to how you ought to manage your +children, and will find fault neatly enough with the system you are trying to +carry out; but all their wisdom goes off in talking, and there is none left for +doing what they have themselves said. There is one road talk never finds, and +that is the way into the talker’s own hands and feet. And such never seem +to know themselves—not even when they are reading about themselves in +print. Still, not being specially blinded in any direction but their own, they +can sometimes even act with a little sense towards children who are not theirs. +They are affected with a sort of blindness like that which renders some people +incapable of seeing, except sideways. +</p> + +<p> +She came up to the bed, looked at the princess, and saw that she was better. +But she did not like her much. There was no mark of a princess about her, and +never had been since she began to run alone. True, hunger had brought down her +fat cheeks, but it had not turned down her impudent nose, or driven the +sullenness and greed from her mouth. Nothing but the wise woman could do +that—and not even she, without the aid of the princess herself. So the +shepherdess thought what a poor substitute she had got for her own lovely +Agnes—who was in fact equally repulsive, only in a way to which she had +got used; for the selfishness in her love had blinded her to the thin pinched +nose and the mean self-satisfied mouth. It was well for the princess, though, +sad as it is to say, that the shepherdess did not take to her, for then she +would most likely have only done her harm instead of good. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my girl,” she said, “you must get up, and do something. +We can’t keep idle folk here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not a folk,” said Rosamond; “I’m a +princess.” +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty princess—with a nose like that! And all in rags too! If +you tell such stories, I shall soon let you know what I think of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond then understood that the mere calling herself a princess, without +having any thing to show for it, was of no use. She obeyed and rose, for she +was hungry; but she had to sweep the floor ere she had any thing to eat. +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd came in to breakfast, and was kinder than his wife. He took her up +in his arms and would have kissed her; but she took it as an insult from a man +whose hands smelt of tar, and kicked and screamed with rage. The poor man, +finding he had made a mistake, set her down at once. But to look at the two, +one might well have judged it condescension rather than rudeness in such a man +to kiss such a child. He was tall, and almost stately, with a thoughtful +forehead, bright eyes, eagle nose, and gentle mouth; while the princess was +such as I have described her. +</p> + +<p> +Not content with being set down and let alone, she continued to storm and scold +at the shepherd, crying she was a princess, and would like to know what right +he had to touch her! But he only looked down upon her from the height of his +tall person with a benignant smile, regarding her as a spoiled little ape whose +mother had flattered her by calling her a princess. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn her out of doors, the ungrateful hussy!” cried his wife. +“With your bread and your milk inside her ugly body, this is what she +gives you for it! Troth, I’m paid for carrying home such an ill-bred +tramp in my arms! My own poor angel Agnes! As if that ill-tempered toad were +one hair like her!” +</p> + +<p> +These words drove the princess beside herself; for those who are most given to +abuse can least endure it. With fists and feet and teeth, as was her wont, she +rushed at the shepherdess, whose hand was already raised to deal her a sound +box on the ear, when a better appointed minister of vengeance suddenly showed +himself. Bounding in at the cottage-door came one of the sheep-dogs, who was +called Prince, and whom I shall not refer to with a <i>which</i>, because he +was a very superior animal indeed, even for a sheep-dog, which is the most +intelligent of dogs: he flew at the princess, knocked her down, and commenced +shaking her so violently as to tear her miserable clothes to pieces. Used, +however, to mouthing little lambs, he took care not to hurt her much, though +for her good he left her a blue nip or two by way of letting her imagine what +biting might be. His master, knowing he would not injure her, thought it better +not to call him off, and in half a minute he left her of his own accord, and, +casting a glance of indignant rebuke behind him as he went, walked slowly to +the hearth, where he laid himself down with his tail toward her. She rose, +terrified almost to death, and would have crept again into Agnes’s crib +for refuge; but the shepherdess cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, princess! I’ll have no skulking to bed in the good +daylight. Go and clean your master’s Sunday boots there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not!” screamed the princess, and ran from the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Prince!” cried the shepherdess, and up jumped the dog, and looked +in her face, wagging his bushy tail. +</p> + +<p> +“Fetch her back,” she said, pointing to the door. +</p> + +<p> +With two or three bounds Prince caught the princess, again threw her down, and +taking her by her clothes dragged her back into the cottage, and dropped her at +his mistress’ feet, where she lay like a bundle of rags. +</p> + +<p> +“Get up,” said the shepherdess. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond got up as pale as death. +</p> + +<p> +“Go and clean the boots.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go and try. There are the brushes, and yonder is the +blacking-pot.” +</p> + +<p> +Instructing her how to black boots, it came into the thought of the shepherdess +what a fine thing it would be if she could teach this miserable little wretch, +so forsaken and ill-bred, to be a good, well-behaved, respectable child. She +was hardly the woman to do it, but every thing well meant is a help, and she +had the wisdom to beg her husband to place Prince under her orders for a while, +and not take him to the hill as usual, that he might help her in getting the +princess into order. +</p> + +<p> +When the husband was gone, and his boots, with the aid of her own finishing +touches, at last quite respectably brushed, the shepherdess told the princess +that she might go and play for a while, only she must not go out of sight of +the cottage-door. +</p> + +<p> +The princess went right gladly, with the firm intention, however, of getting +out of sight by slow degrees, and then at once taking to her heels. But no +sooner was she over the threshold than the shepherdess said to the dog, +“Watch her;” and out shot Prince. +</p> + +<p> +The moment she saw him, Rosamond threw herself on her face, trembling from head +to foot. But the dog had no quarrel with her, and of the violence against which +he always felt bound to protest in dog fashion, there was no sign in the +prostrate shape before him; so he poked his nose under her, turned her over, +and began licking her face and hands. When she saw that he meant to be +friendly, her love for animals, which had had no indulgence for a long time +now, came wide awake, and in a little while they were romping and rushing +about, the best friends in the world. +</p> + +<p> +Having thus seen one enemy, as she thought, changed to a friend, she began to +resume her former plan, and crept cunningly farther and farther. At length she +came to a little hollow, and instantly rolled down into it. Finding then that +she was out of sight of the cottage, she ran off at full speed. +</p> + +<p> +But she had not gone more than a dozen paces, when she heard a growling rush +behind her, and the next instant was on the ground, with the dog standing over +her, showing his teeth, and flaming at her with his eyes. She threw her arms +round his neck, and immediately he licked her face, and let her get up. But the +moment she would have moved a step farther from the cottage, there he was it +front of her, growling, and showing his teeth. She saw it was of no use, and +went back with him. +</p> + +<p> +Thus was the princess provided with a dog for a private tutor—just the +right sort for her. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the shepherdess appeared at the door and called her. She would have +disregarded the summons, but Prince did his best to let her know that, until +she could obey herself, she must obey him. So she went into the cottage, and +there the shepherdess ordered her to peel the potatoes for dinner. She sulked +and refused. Here Prince could do nothing to help his mistress, but she had not +to go far to find another ally. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Miss Princess!” she said; “we shall soon see how +you like to go without when dinner-time comes.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the princess had very little foresight, and the idea of future hunger would +have moved her little; but happily, from her game of romps with Prince, she had +begun to be hungry already, and so the threat had force. She took the knife and +began to peel the potatoes. +</p> + +<p> +By slow degrees the princess improved a little. A few more outbreaks of +passion, and a few more savage attacks from Prince, and she had learned to try +to restrain herself when she felt the passion coming on; while a few dinnerless +afternoons entirely opened her eyes to the necessity of working in order to +eat. Prince was her first, and Hunger her second dog-counsellor. +</p> + +<p> +But a still better thing was that she soon grew very fond of Prince. Towards +the gaining of her affections, he had three advantages: first, his nature was +inferior to hers; next, he was a beast; and last, she was afraid of him; for so +spoiled was she that she could more easily love what was below than what was +above her, and a beast, than one of her own kind, and indeed could hardly have +ever come to love any thing much that she had not first learned to fear, and +the white teeth and flaming eyes of the angry Prince were more terrible to her +than any thing had yet been, except those of the wolf, which she had now +forgotten. Then again, he was such a delightful playfellow, that so long as she +neither lost her temper, nor went against orders, she might do almost any thing +she pleased with him. In fact, such was his influence upon her, that she who +had scoffed at the wisest woman in the whole world, and derided the wishes of +her own father and mother, came at length to regard this dog as a superior +being, and to look up to him as well as love him. And this was best of all. +</p> + +<p> +The improvement upon her, in the course of a month, was plain. She had quite +ceased to go into passions, and had actually begun to take a little interest in +her work and try to do it well. +</p> + +<p> +Still, the change was mostly an outside one. I do not mean that she was +pretending. Indeed she had never been given to pretence of any sort. But the +change was not in <i>her</i>, only in her mood. A second change of +circumstances would have soon brought a second change of behavior; and, so long +as that was possible, she continued the same sort of person she had always +been. But if she had not gained much, a trifle had been gained for her: a +little quietness and order of mind, and hence a somewhat greater possibility of +the first idea of right arising in it, whereupon she would begin to see what a +wretched creature she was, and must continue until she herself was right. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the wise woman had been watching her when she least fancied it, and +taking note of the change that was passing upon her. Out of the large eyes of a +gentle sheep she had been watching her—a sheep that puzzled the shepherd; +for every now and then she would appear in his flock, and he would catch sight +of her two or three times in a day, sometimes for days together, yet he never +saw her when he looked for her, and never when he counted the flock into the +fold at night. He knew she was not one of his; but where could she come from, +and where could she go to? For there was no other flock within many miles, and +he never could get near enough to her to see whether or not she was marked. Nor +was Prince of the least use to him for the unravelling of the mystery; for +although, as often as he told him to fetch the strange sheep, he went bounding +to her at once, it was only to lie down at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +At length, however, the wise woman had made up her mind, and after that the +strange sheep no longer troubled the shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +As Rosamond improved, the shepherdess grew kinder. She gave her all +Agnes’s clothes, and began to treat her much more like a daughter. Hence +she had a great deal of liberty after the little work required of her was over, +and would often spend hours at a time with the shepherd, watching the sheep and +the dogs, and learning a little from seeing how Prince, and the others as well, +managed their charge—how they never touched the sheep that did as they +were told and turned when they were bid, but jumped on a disobedient flock, and +ran along their backs, biting, and barking, and half choking themselves with +mouthfuls of their wool. +</p> + +<p> +Then also she would play with the brooks, and learn their songs, and build +bridges over them. And sometimes she would be seized with such delight of heart +that she would spread out her arms to the wind, and go rushing up the hill till +her breath left her, when she would tumble down in the heather, and lie there +till it came back again. +</p> + +<p> +A noticeable change had by this time passed also on her countenance. Her coarse +shapeless mouth had begun to show a glimmer of lines and curves about it, and +the fat had not returned with the roses to her cheeks, so that her eyes looked +larger than before; while, more noteworthy still, the bridge of her nose had +grown higher, so that it was less of the impudent, insignificant thing +inherited from a certain great-great-great-grandmother, who had little else to +leave her. For a long time, it had fitted her very well, for it was just like +her; but now there was ground for alteration, and already the granny who gave +it her would not have recognized it. It was growing a little liker +Prince’s; and Prince’s was a long, perceptive, sagacious +nose,—one that was seldom mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +One day about noon, while the sheep were mostly lying down, and the shepherd, +having left them to the care of the dogs, was himself stretched under the shade +of a rock a little way apart, and the princess sat knitting, with Prince at her +feet, lying in wait for a snap at a great fly, for even he had his +follies—Rosamond saw a poor woman come toiling up the hill, but took +little notice of her until she was passing, a few yards off, when she heard her +utter the dog’s name in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately on the summons, Prince started up and followed her—with +hanging head, but gently-wagging tail. At first the princess thought he was +merely taking observations, and consulting with his nose whether she was +respectable or not, but she soon saw that he was following her in meek +submission. Then she sprung to her feet and cried, “Prince, +Prince!” But Prince only turned his head and gave her an odd look, as if +he were trying to smile, and could not. Then the princess grew angry, and ran +after him, shouting, “Prince, come here directly.” Again Prince +turned his head, but this time to growl and show his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +The princess flew into one of her forgotten rages, and picking up a stone, +flung it at the woman. Prince turned and darted at her, with fury in his eyes, +and his white teeth gleaming. At the awful sight the princess turned also, and +would have fled, but he was upon her in a moment, and threw her to the ground, +and there she lay. +</p> + +<p> +It was evening when she came to herself. A cool twilight wind, that somehow +seemed to come all the way from the stars, was blowing upon her. The poor woman +and Prince, the shepherd and his sheep, were all gone, and she was left alone +with the wind upon the heather. +</p> + +<p> +She felt sad, weak, and, perhaps, for the first time in her life, a little +ashamed. The violence of which she had been guilty had vanished from her +spirit, and now lay in her memory with the calm morning behind it, while in +front the quiet dusky night was now closing in the loud shame betwixt a double +peace. Between the two her passion looked ugly. It pained her to remember. She +felt it was hateful, and <i>hers</i>. +</p> + +<p> +But, alas, Prince was gone! That horrid woman had taken him away! The fury rose +again in her heart, and raged—until it came to her mind how her dear +Prince would have flown at her throat if he had seen her in such a passion. The +memory calmed her, and she rose and went home. There, perhaps, she would find +Prince, for surely he could never have been such a silly dog as go away +altogether with a strange woman! +</p> + +<p> +She opened the door and went in. Dogs were asleep all about the cottage, it +seemed to her, but nowhere was Prince. She crept away to her little bed, and +cried herself asleep. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning the shepherd and shepherdess were indeed glad to find she had +come home, for they thought she had run away. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Prince?” she cried, the moment she waked. +</p> + +<p> +“His mistress has taken him,” answered the shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +“Was that woman his mistress?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fancy so. He followed her as if he had known her all his life. I am +very sorry to lose him, though.” +</p> + +<p> +The poor woman had gone close past the rock where the shepherd lay. He saw her +coming, and thought of the strange sheep which had been feeding beside him when +he lay down. “Who can she be?” he said to himself; but when he +noted how Prince followed her, without even looking up at him as he passed, he +remembered how Prince had come to him. And this was how: as he lay in bed one +fierce winter morning, just about to rise, he heard the voice of a woman call +to him through the storm, “Shepherd, I have brought you a dog. Be good to +him. I will come again and fetch him away.” He dressed as quickly as he +could, and went to the door. It was half snowed up, but on the top of the white +mound before it stood Prince. And now he had gone as mysteriously as he had +come, and he felt sad. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond was very sorry too, and hence when she saw the looks of the shepherd +and shepherdess, she was able to understand them. And she tried for a while to +behave better to them because of their sorrow. So the loss of the dog brought +them all nearer to each other. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>X.</h2> + +<p> +After the thunder-storm, Agnes did not meet with a single obstruction or +misadventure. Everybody was strangely polite, gave her whatever she desired, +and answered her questions, but asked none in return, and looked all the time +as if her departure would be a relief. They were afraid, in fact, from her +appearance, lest she should tell them that she was lost, when they would be +bound, on pain of public execution, to take her to the palace. +</p> + +<p> +But no sooner had she entered the city than she saw it would hardly do to +present herself as a lost child at the palace-gates; for how were they to know +that she was not an impostor, especially since she really was one, having run +away from the wise woman? So she wandered about looking at every thing until +she was tired, and bewildered by the noise and confusion all around her. The +wearier she got, the more was she pushed in every direction. Having been used +to a whole hill to wander upon, she was very awkward in the crowded streets, +and often on the point of being run over by the horses, which seemed to her to +be going every way like a frightened flock. She spoke to several persons, but +no one stopped to answer her; and at length, her courage giving way, she felt +lost indeed, and began to cry. A soldier saw her, and asked what was the +matter. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve nowhere to go to,” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s your mother?” asked the soldier. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” answered Agnes. “I was carried off by +an old woman, who then went away and left me. I don’t know where she is, +or where I am myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said the soldier, “this is a case for his +Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he took her by the hand, led her to the palace, and begged an +audience of the king and queen. The porter glanced at Agnes, immediately +admitted them, and showed them into a great splendid room, where the king and +queen sat every day to review lost children, in the hope of one day thus +finding their Rosamond. But they were by this time beginning to get tired of +it. The moment they cast their eyes upon Agnes, the queen threw back her head, +threw up her hands, and cried, “What a miserable, conceited, white-faced +little ape!” and the king turned upon the soldier in wrath, and cried, +forgetting his own decree, “What do you mean by bringing such a dirty, +vulgar-looking, pert creature into my palace? The dullest soldier in my army +could never for a moment imagine a child like <i>that</i>, one +hair’s-breadth like the lovely angel we lost!” +</p> + +<p> +“I humbly beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said the soldier, +“but what was I to do? There stands your Majesty’s proclamation in +gold letters on the brazen gates of the palace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have it taken down,” said the king. “Remove the +child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please your Majesty, what am I to do with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take her home with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have six already, sire, and do not want her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then drop her where you picked her up.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I do, sire, some one else will find her and bring her back to your +Majesties.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will never do,” said the king. “I cannot bear to look +at her.” +</p> + +<p> +“For all her ugliness,” said the queen, “she is plainly lost, +and so is our Rosamond.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be only a pretence, to get into the palace,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Take her to the head scullion, soldier,” said the queen, +“and tell her to make her useful. If she should find out she has been +pretending to be lost, she must let me know.” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier was so anxious to get rid of her, that he caught her up in his +arms, hurried her from the room, found his way to the scullery, and gave her, +trembling with fear, in charge to the head maid, with the queen’s +message. +</p> + +<p> +As it was evident that the queen had no favor for her, the servants did as they +pleased with her, and often treated her harshly. Not one amongst them liked +her, nor was it any wonder, seeing that, with every step she took from the wise +woman’s house, she had grown more contemptible, for she had grown more +conceited. Every civil answer given her, she attributed to the impression she +made, not to the desire to get rid of her; and every kindness, to approbation +of her looks and speech, instead of friendliness to a lonely child. Hence by +this time she was twice as odious as before; for whoever has had such severe +treatment as the wise woman gave her, and is not the better for it, always +grows worse than before. They drove her about, boxed her ears on the smallest +provocation, laid every thing to her charge, called her all manner of +contemptuous names, jeered and scoffed at her awkwardnesses, and made her life +so miserable that she was in a fair way to forget every thing she had learned, +and know nothing but how to clean saucepans and kettles. +</p> + +<p> +They would not have been so hard upon her, however, but for her irritating +behavior. She dared not refuse to do as she was told, but she obeyed now with a +pursed-up mouth, and now with a contemptuous smile. The only thing that +sustained her was her constant contriving how to get out of the painful +position in which she found herself. There is but one true way, however, of +getting out of any position we may be in, and that is, to do the work of it so +well that we grow fit for a better: I need not say this was not the plan upon +which Agnes was cunning enough to fix. +</p> + +<p> +She had soon learned from the talk around her the reason of the proclamation +which had brought her hither. +</p> + +<p> +“Was the lost princess so very beautiful?” she said one day to the +youngest of her fellow-servants. +</p> + +<p> +“Beautiful!” screamed the maid; “she was just the ugliest +little toad you ever set eyes upon.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was she like?” asked Agnes. +</p> + +<p> +“She was about your size, and quite as ugly, only not in the same way; +for she had red cheeks, and a cocked little nose, and the biggest, ugliest +mouth you ever saw.” +</p> + +<p> +Agnes fell a-thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a picture of her anywhere in the palace?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know? You can ask a housemaid.” +</p> + +<p> +Agnes soon learned that there was one, and contrived to get a peep of it. Then +she was certain of what she had suspected from the description given of her, +namely, that she was the same she had seen in the picture at the wise +woman’s house. The conclusion followed, that the lost princess must be +staying with her father and mother, for assuredly in the picture she wore one +of her frocks. +</p> + +<p> +She went to the head scullion, and with humble manner, but proud heart, begged +her to procure for her the favor of a word with the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“A likely thing indeed!” was the answer, accompanied by a +resounding box on the ear. +</p> + +<p> +She tried the head cook next, but with no better success, and so was driven to +her meditations again, the result of which was that she began to drop hints +that she knew something about the princess. This came at length to the +queen’s ears, and she sent for her. +</p> + +<p> +Absorbed in her own selfish ambitions, Agnes never thought of the risk to which +she was about to expose her parents, but told the queen that in her wanderings +she had caught sight of just such a lovely creature as she described the +princess, only dressed like a peasant—saying, that, if the king would +permit her to go and look for her, she had little doubt of bringing her back +safe and sound within a few weeks. +</p> + +<p> +But although she spoke the truth, she had such a look of cunning on her pinched +face, that the queen could not possibly trust her, but believed that she made +the proposal merely to get away, and have money given her for her journey. +Still there was a chance, and she would not say any thing until she had +consulted the king. +</p> + +<p> +Then they had Agnes up before the lord chancellor, who, after much questioning +of her, arrived at last, he thought, at some notion of the part of the country +described by her—that was, if she spoke the truth, which, from her looks +and behavior, he also considered entirely doubtful. Thereupon she was ordered +back to the kitchen, and a band of soldiers, under a clever lawyer, sent out to +search every foot of the supposed region. They were commanded not to return +until they brought with them, bound hand and foot, such a shepherd pair as that +of which they received a full description. +</p> + +<p> +And now Agnes was worse off than before. For to her other miseries was added +the fear of what would befall her when it was discovered that the persons of +whom they were in quest, and whom she was certain they must find, were her own +father and mother. +</p> + +<p> +By this time the king and queen were so tired of seeing lost children, genuine +or pretended—for they cared for no child any longer than there seemed a +chance of its turning out their child—that with this new hope, which, +however poor and vague at first, soon began to grow upon such imaginations as +they had, they commanded the proclamation to be taken down from the palace +gates, and directed the various sentries to admit no child whatever, lost or +found, be the reason or pretence what it might, until further orders. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sick of children!” said the king to his secretary, as he +finished dictating the direction. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>XI.</h2> + +<p> +After Prince was gone, the princess, by degrees, fell back into some of her bad +old ways, from which only the presence of the dog, not her own betterment, had +kept her. She never grew nearly so selfish again, but she began to let her +angry old self lift up its head once more, until by and by she grew so bad that +the shepherdess declared she should not stop in the house a day longer, for she +was quite unendurable. +</p> + +<p> +“It is all very well for you, husband,” she said, “for you +haven’t her all day about you, and only see the best of her. But if you +had her in work instead of play hours, you would like her no better than I do. +And then it’s not her ugly passions only, but when she’s in one of +her tantrums, it’s impossible to get any work out of her. At such times +she’s just as obstinate as—as—as”— +</p> + +<p> +She was going to say “as Agnes,” but the feelings of a mother +overcame her, and she could not utter the words. +</p> + +<p> +“In fact,” she said instead, “she makes my life +miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd felt he had no right to tell his wife she must submit to have her +life made miserable, and therefore, although he was really much attached to +Rosamond, he would not interfere; and the shepherdess told her she must look +out for another place. +</p> + +<p> +The princess was, however, this much better than before, even in respect of her +passions, that they were not quite so bad, and after one was over, she was +really ashamed of it. But not once, ever since the departure of Prince had she +tried to check the rush of the evil temper when it came upon her. She hated it +when she was out of it, and that was something; but while she was in it, she +went full swing with it wherever the prince of the power of it pleased to carry +her. Nor was this all: although she might by this time have known well enough +that as soon as she was out of it she was certain to be ashamed of it, she +would yet justify it to herself with twenty different arguments that looked +very good at the time, but would have looked very poor indeed afterwards, if +then she had ever remembered them. +</p> + +<p> +She was not sorry to leave the shepherd’s cottage, for she felt certain +of soon finding her way back to her father and mother; and she would, indeed, +have set out long before, but that her foot had somehow got hurt when Prince +gave her his last admonition, and she had never since been able for long walks, +which she sometimes blamed as the cause of her temper growing worse. But if +people are good-tempered only when they are comfortable, what thanks have +they?—Her foot was now much better; and as soon as the shepherdess had +thus spoken, she resolved to set out at once, and work or beg her way home. At +the moment she was quite unmindful of what she owed the good people, and, +indeed, was as yet incapable of understanding a tenth part of her obligation to +them. So she bade them good by without a tear, and limped her way down the +hill, leaving the shepherdess weeping, and the shepherd looking very grave. +</p> + +<p> +When she reached the valley she followed the course of the stream, knowing only +that it would lead her away from the hill where the sheep fed, into richer +lands where were farms and cattle. Rounding one of the roots of the hill she +saw before her a poor woman walking slowly along the road with a burden of +heather upon her back, and presently passed her, but had gone only a few paces +farther when she heard her calling after her in a kind old voice— +</p> + +<p> +“Your shoe-tie is loose, my child.” +</p> + +<p> +But Rosamond was growing tired, for her foot had become painful, and so she was +cross, and neither returned answer, nor paid heed to the warning. For when we +are cross, all our other faults grow busy, and poke up their ugly heads like +maggots, and the princess’s old dislike to doing any thing that came to +her with the least air of advice about it returned in full force. +</p> + +<p> +“My child,” said the woman again, “if you don’t fasten +your shoe-tie, it will make you fall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind your own business,” said Rosamond, without even turning her +head, and had not gone more than three steps when she fell flat on her face on +the path. She tried to get up, but the effort forced from her a scream, for she +had sprained the ankle of the foot that was already lame. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman was by her side instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you hurt, child?” she asked, throwing down her burden +and kneeling beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away,” screamed Rosamond. “<i>You</i> made me fall, you +bad woman!” +</p> + +<p> +The woman made no reply, but began to feel her joints, and soon discovered the +sprain. Then, in spite of Rosamond’s abuse, and the violent pushes and +even kicks she gave her, she took the hurt ankle in her hands, and stroked and +pressed it, gently kneading it, as it were, with her thumbs, as if coaxing +every particle of the muscles into its right place. Nor had she done so long +before Rosamond lay still. At length she ceased, and said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my child, you may get up.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t get up, and I’m not your child,” cried +Rosamond. “Go away.” +</p> + +<p> +Without another word the woman left her, took up her burden, and continued her +journey. +</p> + +<p> +In a little while Rosamond tried to get up, and not only succeeded, but found +she could walk, and, indeed, presently discovered that her ankle and foot also +were now perfectly well. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t much hurt after all,” she said to herself, nor sent +a single grateful thought after the poor woman, whom she speedily passed once +more upon the road without even a greeting. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon she came to a spot where the path divided into two, and +was taking the one she liked the look of better, when she started at the sound +of the poor woman’s voice, whom she thought she had left far behind, +again calling her. She looked round, and there she was, toiling under her load +of heather as before. +</p> + +<p> +“You are taking the wrong turn, child.” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“How can you tell that?” said Rosamond. “You know nothing +about where I want to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that road will take you where you won’t want to go,” +said the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall know when I get there, then,” returned Rosamond, +“and no thanks to you.” +</p> + +<p> +She set off running. The woman took the other path, and was soon out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +By and by, Rosamond found herself in the midst of a peat-moss—a flat, +lonely, dismal, black country. She thought, however, that the road would soon +lead her across to the other side of it among the farms, and went on without +anxiety. But the stream, which had hitherto been her guide, had now vanished; +and when it began to grow dark, Rosamond found that she could no longer +distinguish the track. She turned, therefore, but only to find that the same +darkness covered it behind as well as before. Still she made the attempt to go +back by keeping as direct a line as she could, for the path was straight as an +arrow. But she could not see enough even to start her in a line, and she had +not gone far before she found herself hemmed in, apparently on every side, by +ditches and pools of black, dismal, slimy water. And now it was so dark that +she could see nothing more than the gleam of a bit of clear sky now and then in +the water. Again and again she stepped knee-deep in black mud, and once tumbled +down in the shallow edge of a terrible pool; after which she gave up the +attempt to escape the meshes of the watery net, stood still, and began to cry +bitterly, despairingly. She saw now that her unreasonable anger had made her +foolish as well as rude, and felt that she was justly punished for her +wickedness to the poor woman who had been so friendly to her. What would Prince +think of her, if he knew? She cast herself on the ground, hungry, and cold, and +weary. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, she thought she saw long creatures come heaving out of the black +pools. A toad jumped upon her, and she shrieked, and sprang to her feet, and +would have run away headlong, when she spied in the distance a faint glimmer. +She thought it was a Will-o’-the-wisp. What could he be after? Was he +looking for her? She dared not run, lest he should see and pounce upon her. The +light came nearer, and grew brighter and larger. Plainly, the little fiend was +looking for her—he would torment her. After many twistings and turnings +among the pools, it came straight towards her, and she would have shrieked, but +that terror made her dumb. +</p> + +<p> +It came nearer and nearer, and lo! it was borne by a dark figure, with a burden +on its back: it was the poor woman, and no demon, that was looking for her! She +gave a scream of joy, fell down weeping at her feet, and clasped her knees. +Then the poor woman threw away her burden, laid down her lantern, took the +princess up in her arms, folded her cloak around her, and having taken up her +lantern again, carried her slowly and carefully through the midst of the black +pools, winding hither and thither. All night long she carried her thus, slowly +and wearily, until at length the darkness grew a little thinner, an uncertain +hint of light came from the east, and the poor woman, stopping on the brow of a +little hill, opened her cloak, and set the princess down. +</p> + +<p> +“I can carry you no farther,” she said. “Sit there on the +grass till the light comes. I will stand here by you.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond had been asleep. Now she rubbed her eyes and looked, but it was too +dark to see any thing more than that there was a sky over her head. Slowly the +light grew, until she could see the form of the poor woman standing in front of +her; and as it went on growing, she began to think she had seen her somewhere +before, till all at once she thought of the wise woman, and saw it must be she. +Then she was so ashamed that she bent down her head, and could look at her no +longer. But the poor woman spoke, and the voice was that of the wise woman, and +every word went deep into the heart of the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond,” she said, “all this time, ever since I carried +you from your father’s palace, I have been doing what I could to make you +a lovely creature: ask yourself how far I have succeeded.” +</p> + +<p> +All her past story, since she found herself first under the wise woman’s +cloak, arose, and glided past the inner eyes of the princess, and she saw, and +in a measure understood, it all. But she sat with her eyes on the ground, and +made no sign. +</p> + +<p> +Then said the wise woman:— +</p> + +<p> +“Below there is the forest which surrounds my house. I am going home. If +you pledge to come there to me, I will help you, in a way I could not do now, +to be good and lovely. I will wait you there all day, but if you start at once, +you may be there long before noon. I shall have your breakfast waiting for you. +One thing more: the beasts have not yet all gone home to their holes; but I +give you my word, not one will touch you so long as you keep coming nearer to +my house.” +</p> + +<p> +She ceased. Rosamond sat waiting to hear something more; but nothing came. She +looked up; she was alone. +</p> + +<p> +Alone once more! Always being left alone, because she would not yield to what +was right! Oh, how safe she had felt under the wise woman’s cloak! She +had indeed been good to her, and she had in return behaved like one of the +hyenas of the awful wood! What a wonderful house it was she lived in! And again +all her own story came up into her brain from her repentant heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t she take me with her?” she said. “I would +have gone gladly.” And she wept. But her own conscience told her that, in +the very middle of her shame and desire to be good, she had returned no answer +to the words of the wise woman; she had sat like a tree-stump, and done +nothing. She tried to say there was nothing to be done; but she knew at once +that she could have told the wise woman she had been very wicked, and asked her +to take her with her. Now there was nothing to be done. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing to be done!” said her conscience. “Cannot you rise, +and walk down the hill, and through the wood?” +</p> + +<p> +“But the wild beasts!” +</p> + +<p> +“There it is! You don’t believe the wise woman yet! Did she not +tell you the beasts would not touch you?” +</p> + +<p> +“But they are so horrid!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they are; but it would be far better to be eaten up alive by them +than live on—such a worthless creature as you are. Why, you’re not +fit to be thought about by any but bad ugly creatures.” +</p> + +<p> +This was how herself talked to her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>XII.</h2> + +<p> +All at once she jumped to her feet, and ran at full speed down the hill and +into the wood. She heard howlings and yellings on all sides of her, but she ran +straight on, as near as she could judge. Her spirits rose as she ran. Suddenly +she saw before her, in the dusk of the thick wood, a group of some dozen wolves +and hyenas, standing all together right in her way, with their green eyes fixed +upon her staring. She faltered one step, then bethought her of what the wise +woman had promised, and keeping straight on, dashed right into the middle of +them. They fled howling, as if she had struck them with fire. She was no more +afraid after that, and ere the sun was up she was out of the wood and upon the +heath, which no bad thing could step upon and live. With the first peep of the +sun above the horizon, she saw the little cottage before her, and ran as fast +as she could run towards it, When she came near it, she saw that the door was +open, and ran straight into the outstretched arms of the wise woman. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman kissed her and stroked her hair, set her down by the fire, and +gave her a bowl of bread and milk. +</p> + +<p> +When she had eaten it she drew her before her where she sat, and spoke to her +thus:— +</p> + +<p> +“Rosamond, if you would be a blessed creature instead of a mere wretch, +you must submit to be tried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that something terrible?” asked the princess, turning white. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my child; but it is something very difficult to come well out of. +Nobody who has not been tried knows how difficult it is; but whoever has come +well out of it, and those who do not overcome never do come out of it, always +looks back with horror, not on what she has come through, but on the very idea +of the possibility of having failed, and being still the same miserable +creature as before.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will tell me what it is before it begins?” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not tell you exactly. But I will tell you some things to help +you. One great danger is that perhaps you will think you are in it before it +has really begun, and say to yourself, ‘Oh! this is really nothing to me. +It may be a trial to some, but for me I am sure it is not worth +mentioning.’ And then, before you know, it will be upon you, and you will +fail utterly and shamefully.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be very, very careful,” said the princess. “Only +don’t let me be frightened.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not be frightened, except it be your own doing. You are +already a brave girl, and there is no occasion to try you more that way. I saw +how you rushed into the middle of the ugly creatures; and as they ran from you, +so will all kinds of evil things, as long as you keep them outside of you, and +do not open the cottage of your heart to let them in. I will tell you something +more about what you will have to go through. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody can be a real princess—do not imagine you have yet been any +thing more than a mock one—until she is a princess over herself, that is, +until, when she finds herself unwilling to do the thing that is right, she +makes herself do it. So long as any mood she is in makes her do the thing she +will be sorry for when that mood is over, she is a slave, and no princess. A +princess is able to do what is right even should she unhappily be in a mood +that would make another unable to do it. For instance, if you should be cross +and angry, you are not a whit the less bound to be just, yes, kind even—a +thing most difficult in such a mood—though ease itself in a good mood, +loving and sweet. Whoever does what she is bound to do, be she the dirtiest +little girl in the street, is a princess, worshipful, honorable. Nay, more; her +might goes farther than she could send it, for if she act so, the evil mood +will wither and die, and leave her loving and clean.—Do you understand +me, dear Rosamond?” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, the wise woman laid her hand on her head and looked—oh, so +lovingly!—into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not sure,” said the princess, humbly. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you will understand me better if I say it just comes to this, +that you must <i>not do</i> what is wrong, however much you are inclined to do +it, and you must <i>do</i> what is right, however much you are disinclined to +do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that,” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going, then, to put you in one of the mood-chambers of which I have +many in the house. Its mood will come upon you, and you will have to deal with +it.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose and took her by the hand. The princess trembled a little, but never +thought of resisting. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman led her into the great hall with the pictures, and through a +door at the farther end, opening upon another large hall, which was circular, +and had doors close to each other all round it. Of these she opened one, pushed +the princess gently in, and closed it behind her. +</p> + +<p> +The princess found herself in her old nursery. Her little white rabbit came to +meet her in a lumping canter as if his back were going to tumble over his head. +Her nurse, in her rocking-chair by the chimney corner, sat just as she had +used. The fire burned brightly, and on the table were many of her wonderful +toys, on which, however, she now looked with some contempt. Her nurse did not +seem at all surprised to see her, any more than if the princess had but just +gone from the room and returned again. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how different I am from what I used to be!” thought the +princess to herself, looking from her toys to her nurse. “The wise woman +has done me so much good already! I will go and see mamma at once, and tell her +I am very glad to be at home again, and very sorry I was so naughty.” +</p> + +<p> +She went towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Your queen-mamma, princess, cannot see you now,” said her nurse. +</p> + +<p> +“I have yet to learn that it is my part to take orders from a +servant,” said the princess with temper and dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, princess,” returned her nurse, politely; +“but it is my duty to tell you that your queen-mamma is at this moment +engaged. She is alone with her most intimate friend, the Princess of the Frozen +Regions.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall see for myself,” returned the princess, bridling, and +walked to the door. +</p> + +<p> +Now little bunny, leap-frogging near the door, happened that moment to get +about her feet, just as she was going to open it, so that she tripped and fell +against it, striking her forehead a good blow. She caught up the rabbit in a +rage, and, crying, “It is all your fault, you ugly old wretch!” +threw it with violence in her nurse’s face. +</p> + +<p> +Her nurse caught the rabbit, and held it to her face, as if seeking to sooth +its fright. But the rabbit looked very limp and odd, and, to her amazement, +Rosamond presently saw that the thing was no rabbit, but a pocket-handkerchief. +The next moment she removed it from her face, and Rosamond beheld—not her +nurse, but the wise woman—standing on her own hearth, while she herself +stood by the door leading from the cottage into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“First trial a failure,” said the wise woman quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Overcome with shame, Rosamond ran to her, fell down on her knees, and hid her +face in her dress. +</p> + +<p> +“Need I say any thing?” said the wise woman, stroking her hair. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” cried the princess. “I am horrid.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know now the kind of thing you have to meet: are you ready to try +again?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>May</i> I try again?” cried the princess, jumping up. +“I’m ready. I do not think I shall fail this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“The trial will be harder.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond drew in her breath, and set her teeth. The wise woman looked at her +pitifully, but took her by the hand, led her to the round hall, opened the same +door, and closed it after her. +</p> + +<p> +The princess expected to find herself again in the nursery, but in the wise +woman’s house no one ever has the same trial twice. She was in a +beautiful garden, full of blossoming trees and the loveliest roses and lilies. +A lake was in the middle of it, with a tiny boat. So delightful was it that +Rosamond forgot all about how or why she had come there, and lost herself in +the joy of the flowers and the trees and the water. Presently came the shout of +a child, merry and glad, and from a clump of tulip trees rushed a lovely little +boy, with his arms stretched out to her. She was charmed at the sight, ran to +meet him, caught him up in her arms, kissed him, and could hardly let him go +again. But the moment she set him down he ran from her towards the lake, +looking back as he ran, and crying “Come, come.” +</p> + +<p> +She followed. He made straight for the boat, clambered into it, and held out +his hand to help her in. Then he caught up the little boat-hook, and pushed +away from the shore: there was a great white flower floating a few yards off, +and that was the little fellow’s goal. But, alas! no sooner had Rosamond +caught sight of it, huge and glowing as a harvest moon, than she felt a great +desire to have it herself. The boy, however, was in the bows of the boat, and +caught it first. It had a long stem, reaching down to the bottom of the water, +and for a moment he tugged at it in vain, but at last it gave way so suddenly, +that he tumbled back with the flower into the bottom of the boat. Then +Rosamond, almost wild at the danger it was in as he struggled to rise, hurried +to save it, but somehow between them it came in pieces, and all its petals of +fretted silver were scattered about the boat. When the boy got up, and saw the +ruin his companion had occasioned, he burst into tears, and having the long +stalk of the flower still in his hand, struck her with it across the face. It +did not hurt her much, for he was a very little fellow, but it was wet and +slimy. She tumbled rather than rushed at him, seized him in her arms, tore him +from his frightened grasp, and flung him into the water. His head struck on the +boat as he fell, and he sank at once to the bottom, where he lay looking up at +her with white face and open eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The moment she saw the consequences of her deed she was filled with horrible +dismay. She tried hard to reach down to him through the water, but it was far +deeper than it looked, and she could not. Neither could she get her eyes to +leave the white face: its eyes fascinated and fixed hers; and there she lay +leaning over the boat and staring at the death she had made. But a voice +crying, “Ally! Ally!” shot to her heart, and springing to her feet +she saw a lovely lady come running down the grass to the brink of the water +with her hair flying about her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my Ally?” she shrieked. +</p> + +<p> +But Rosamond could not answer, and only stared at the lady, as she had before +stared at her drowned boy. +</p> + +<p> +Then the lady caught sight of the dead thing at the bottom of the water, and +rushed in, and, plunging down, struggled and groped until she reached it. Then +she rose and stood up with the dead body of her little son in her arms, his +head hanging back, and the water streaming from him. +</p> + +<p> +“See what you have made of him, Rosamond!” she said, holding the +body out to her; “and this is your second trial, and also a +failure.” +</p> + +<p> +The dead child melted away from her arms, and there she stood, the wise woman, +on her own hearth, while Rosamond found herself beside the little well on the +floor of the cottage, with one arm wet up to the shoulder. She threw herself on +the heather-bed and wept from relief and vexation both. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman walked out of the cottage, shut the door, and left her alone. +Rosamond was sobbing, so that she did not hear her go. When at length she +looked up, and saw that the wise woman was gone, her misery returned afresh and +tenfold, and she wept and wailed. The hours passed, the shadows of evening +began to fall, and the wise woman entered. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>XIII.</h2> + +<p> +She went straight to the bed, and taking Rosamond in her arms, sat down with +her by the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor child!” she said. “Two terrible failures! And the +more the harder! They get stronger and stronger. What is to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t you help me?” said Rosamond piteously. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I could, now you ask me,” answered the wise woman. +“When you are ready to try again, we shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very tired of myself,” said the princess. “But I +can’t rest till I try again.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the only way to get rid of your weary, shadowy self, and find +your strong, true self. Come, my child; I will help you all I can, for now I +<i>can</i> help you.” +</p> + +<p> +Yet again she led her to the same door, and seemed to the princess to send her +yet again alone into the room. She was in a forest, a place half wild, half +tended. The trees were grand, and full of the loveliest birds, of all glowing +gleaming and radiant colors, which, unlike the brilliant birds we know in our +world, sang deliciously, every one according to his color. The trees were not +at all crowded, but their leaves were so thick, and their boughs spread so far, +that it was only here and there a sunbeam could get straight through. All the +gentle creatures of a forest were there, but no creatures that killed, not even +a weasel to kill the rabbits, or a beetle to eat the snails out of their +striped shells. As to the butterflies, words would but wrong them if they tried +to tell how gorgeous they were. The princess’s delight was so great that +she neither laughed nor ran, but walked about with a solemn countenance and +stately step. +</p> + +<p> +“But where are the flowers?” she said to herself at length. +</p> + +<p> +They were nowhere. Neither on the high trees, nor on the few shrubs that grew +here and there amongst them, were there any blossoms; and in the grass that +grew everywhere there was not a single flower to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well!” said Rosamond again to herself, “where all the +birds and butterflies are living flowers, we can do without the other +sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Still she could not help feeling that flowers were wanted to make the beauty of +the forest complete. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she came out on a little open glade; and there, on the root of a great +oak, sat the loveliest little girl, with her lap full of flowers of all colors, +but of such kinds as Rosamond had never before seen. She was playing with +them—burying her hands in them, tumbling them about, and every now and +then picking one from the rest, and throwing it away. All the time she never +smiled, except with her eyes, which were as full as they could hold of the +laughter of the spirit—a laughter which in this world is never heard, +only sets the eyes alight with a liquid shining. Rosamond drew nearer, for the +wonderful creature would have drawn a tiger to her side, and tamed him on the +way. A few yards from her, she came upon one of her cast-away flowers and +stooped to pick it up, as well she might where none grew save in her own +longing. But to her amazement she found, instead of a flower thrown away to +wither, one fast rooted and quite at home. She left it, and went to another; +but it also was fast in the soil, and growing comfortably in the warm grass. +What could it mean? One after another she tried, until at length she was +satisfied that it was the same with every flower the little girl threw from her +lap. +</p> + +<p> +She watched then until she saw her throw one, and instantly bounded to the +spot. But the flower had been quicker than she: there it grew, fast fixed in +the earth, and, she thought, looked at her roguishly. Something evil moved in +her, and she plucked it. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t! don’t!” cried the child. “My flowers +cannot live in your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond looked at the flower. It was withered already. She threw it from her, +offended. The child rose, with difficulty keeping her lapful together, picked +it up, carried it back, sat down again, spoke to it, kissed it, sang to +it—oh! such a sweet, childish little song!—the princess never could +recall a word of it—and threw it away. Up rose its little head, and there +it was, busy growing again! +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond’s bad temper soon gave way: the beauty and sweetness of the +child had overcome it; and, anxious to make friends with her, she drew near, +and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you give me a little flower, please, you beautiful +child?” +</p> + +<p> +“There they are; they are all for you,” answered the child, +pointing with her outstretched arm and forefinger all round. +</p> + +<p> +“But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, I did.” +</p> + +<p> +“They can’t be mine, if I’m not to touch them.” +</p> + +<p> +“If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are not yours, and +never, never can be yours. They are nobody’s when they are dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you don’t kill them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t pull them; I throw them away. I live them.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is it that you make them grow?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, ‘You darling!’ and throw it away and there it +is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you get them?” +</p> + +<p> +“In my lap.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would let me throw one away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got any in your lap? Let me see.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I have none.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you can’t throw one away, if you haven’t got +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mocking me!” cried the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not mocking you,” said the child, looking her full in the +face, with reproach in her large blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s where the flowers come from!” said the princess +to herself, the moment she saw them, hardly knowing what she meant. +</p> + +<p> +Then the child rose as if hurt, and quickly threw away all the flowers she had +in her lap, but one by one, and without any sign of anger. When they were all +gone, she stood a moment, and then, in a kind of chanting cry, called, two or +three times, “Peggy! Peggy! Peggy!” +</p> + +<p> +A low, glad cry, like the whinny of a horse, answered, and, presently, out of +the wood on the opposite side of the glade, came gently trotting the loveliest +little snow-white pony, with great shining blue wings, half-lifted from his +shoulders. Straight towards the little girl, neither hurrying nor lingering, he +trotted with light elastic tread. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond’s love for animals broke into a perfect passion of delight at +the vision. She rushed to meet the pony with such haste, that, although clearly +the best trained animal under the sun, he started back, plunged, reared, and +struck out with his fore-feet ere he had time to observe what sort of a +creature it was that had so startled him. When he perceived it was a little +girl, he dropped instantly upon all fours, and content with avoiding her, +resumed his quiet trot in the direction of his mistress. Rosamond stood gazing +after him in miserable disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached the child, he laid his head on her shoulder, and she put her +arm up round his neck; and after she had talked to him a little, he turned and +came trotting back to the princess. +</p> + +<p> +Almost beside herself with joy, she began caressing him in the rough way which, +not-withstanding her love for them, she was in the habit of using with animals; +and she was not gentle enough, in herself even, to see that he did not like it, +and was only putting up with it for the sake of his mistress. But when, that +she might jump upon his back, she laid hold of one of his wings, and ruffled +some of the blue feathers, he wheeled suddenly about, gave his long tail a +sharp whisk which threw her flat on the grass, and, trotting back to his +mistress, bent down his head before her as if asking excuse for ridding himself +of the unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +The princess was furious. She had forgotten all her past life up to the time +when she first saw the child: her beauty had made her forget, and yet she was +now on the very borders of hating her. What she might have done, or rather +tried to do, had not Peggy’s tail struck her down with such force that +for a moment she could not rise, I cannot tell. +</p> + +<p> +But while she lay half-stunned, her eyes fell on a little flower just under +them. It stared up in her face like the living thing it was, and she could not +take her eyes off its face. It was like a primrose trying to express doubt +instead of confidence. It seemed to put her half in mind of something, and she +felt as if shame were coming. She put out her hand to pluck it; but the moment +her fingers touched it, the flower withered up, and hung as dead on its stalks +as if a flame of fire had passed over it. +</p> + +<p> +Then a shudder thrilled through the heart of the princess, and she thought with +herself, saying—“What sort of a creature am I that the flowers +wither when I touch them, and the ponies despise me with their tails? What a +wretched, coarse, ill-bred creature I must be! There is that lovely child +giving life instead of death to the flowers, and a moment ago I was hating her! +I am made horrid, and I shall be horrid, and I hate myself, and yet I +can’t help being myself!” +</p> + +<p> +She heard the sound of galloping feet, and there was the pony, with the child +seated betwixt his wings, coming straight on at full speed for where she lay. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care,” she said. “They may trample me under +their feet if they like. I am tired and sick of myself—a creature at +whose touch the flowers wither!” +</p> + +<p> +On came the winged pony. But while yet some distance off, he gave a great +bound, spread out his living sails of blue, rose yards and yards above her in +the air, and alighted as gently as a bird, just a few feet on the other side of +her. The child slipped down and came and kneeled over her. +</p> + +<p> +“Did my pony hurt you?” she said. “I am so sorry!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he hurt me,” answered the princess, “but not more than +I deserved, for I took liberties with him, and he did not like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you dear!” said the little girl. “I love you for talking +so of my Peggy. He is a good pony, though a little playful sometimes. Would you +like a ride upon him?” +</p> + +<p> +“You darling beauty!” cried Rosamond, sobbing. “I do love you +so, you are so good. How did you become so sweet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to ride my pony?” repeated the child, with a +heavenly smile in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; he is fit only for you. My clumsy body would hurt him,” +said Rosamond. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mind me having such a pony?” said the child. +</p> + +<p> +“What! mind it?” cried Rosamond, almost indignantly. Then +remembering certain thoughts that had but a few moments before passed through +her mind, she looked on the ground and was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mind it, then?” repeated the child. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very glad there is such a you and such a pony, and that such a you +has got such a pony,” said Rosamond, still looking on the ground. +“But I do wish the flowers would not die when I touch them. I was cross +to see you make them grow, but now I should be content if only I did not make +them wither.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, she stroked the little girl’s bare feet, which were by her, +half buried in the soft moss, and as she ended she laid her cheek on them and +kissed them. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear princess!” said the little girl, “the flowers will not +always wither at your touch. Try now—only do not pluck it. Flowers ought +never to be plucked except to give away. Touch it gently.” +</p> + +<p> +A silvery flower, something like a snow-drop, grew just within her reach. +Timidly she stretched out her hand and touched it. The flower trembled, but +neither shrank nor withered. +</p> + +<p> +“Touch it again,” said the child. +</p> + +<p> +It changed color a little, and Rosamond fancied it grew larger. +</p> + +<p> +“Touch it again,” said the child. +</p> + +<p> +It opened and grew until it was as large as a narcissus, and changed and +deepened in color till it was a red glowing gold. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond gazed motionless. When the transfiguration of the flower was +perfected, she sprang to her feet with clasped hands, but for very ecstasy of +joy stood speechless, gazing at the child. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you never see me before, Rosamond?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, never,” answered the princess. “I never saw any thing +half so lovely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look at me,” said the child. +</p> + +<p> +And as Rosamond looked, the child began, like the flower, to grow larger. +Quickly through every gradation of growth she passed, until she stood before +her a woman perfectly beautiful, neither old nor young; for hers was the old +age of everlasting youth. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond was utterly enchanted, and stood gazing without word or movement until +she could endure no more delight. Then her mind collapsed to the +thought—had the pony grown too? She glanced round. There was no pony, no +grass, no flowers, no bright-birded forest—but the cottage of the wise +woman—and before her, on the hearth of it, the goddess-child, the only +thing unchanged. +</p> + +<p> +She gasped with astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You must set out for your father’s palace immediately,” said +the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“But where is the wise woman?” asked Rosamond, looking all about. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +And Rosamond, looking again, saw the wise woman, folded as usual in her long +dark cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“And it was you all the time?” she cried in delight, and kneeled +before her, burying her face in her garments. +</p> + +<p> +“It always is me, all the time,” said the wise woman, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“But which is the real you?” asked Rosamond; “this or +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or a thousand others?” returned the wise woman. “But the one +you have just seen is the likest to the real me that you are able to see just +yet—but—. And that me you could not have seen a little while +ago.—But, my darling child,” she went on, lifting her up and +clasping her to her bosom, “you must not think, because you have seen me +once, that therefore you are capable of seeing me at all times. No; there are +many things in you yet that must be changed before that can be. Now, however, +you will seek me. Every time you feel you want me, that is a sign I am wanting +you. There are yet many rooms in my house you may have to go through; but when +you need no more of them, then you will be able to throw flowers like the +little girl you saw in the forest.” +</p> + +<p> +The princess gave a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not think,” the wise woman went on, “that the things you +have seen in my house are mere empty shows. You do not know, you cannot yet +think, how living and true they are.—Now you must go.” +</p> + +<p> +She led her once more into the great hall, and there showed her the picture of +her father’s capital, and his palace with the brazen gates. +</p> + +<p> +“There is your home,” she said. “Go to it.” +</p> + +<p> +The princess understood, and a flush of shame rose to her forehead. She turned +to the wise woman and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Will you forgive <i>all</i> my naughtiness, and <i>all</i> the trouble I +have given you?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had not forgiven you, I would never have taken the trouble to +punish you. If I had not loved you, do you think I would have carried you away +in my cloak?” +</p> + +<p> +“How could you love such an ugly, ill-tempered, rude, hateful little +wretch?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw, through it all, what you were going to be,” said the wise +woman, kissing her. “But remember you have yet only <i>begun</i> to be +what I saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try to remember,” said the princess, holding her cloak, and +looking up in her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, then,” said the wise woman. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond turned away on the instant, ran to the picture, stepped over the frame +of it, heard a door close gently, gave one glance back, saw behind her the +loveliest palace-front of alabaster, gleaming in the pale-yellow light of an +early summer-morning, looked again to the eastward, saw the faint outline of +her father’s city against the sky, and ran off to reach it. +</p> + +<p> +It looked much further off now than when it seemed a picture, but the sun was +not yet up, and she had the whole of a summer day before her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>XIV.</h2> + +<p> +The soldiers sent out by the king, had no great difficulty in finding +Agnes’s father and mother, of whom they demanded if they knew any thing +of such a young princess as they described. The honest pair told them the truth +in every point—that, having lost their own child and found another, they +had taken her home, and treated her as their own; that she had indeed called +herself a princess, but they had not believed her, because she did not look +like one; that, even if they had, they did not know how they could have done +differently, seeing they were poor people, who could not afford to keep any +idle person about the place; that they had done their best to teach her good +ways, and had not parted with her until her bad temper rendered it impossible +to put up with her any longer; that, as to the king’s proclamation, they +heard little of the world’s news on their lonely hill, and it had never +reached them; that if it had, they did not know how either of them could have +gone such a distance from home, and left their sheep or their cottage, one or +the other, uncared for. +</p> + +<p> +“You must learn, then, how both of you can go, and your sheep must take +care of your cottage,” said the lawyer, and commanded the soldiers to +bind them hand and foot. +</p> + +<p> +Heedless of their entreaties to be spared such an indignity, the soldiers +obeyed, bore them to a cart, and set out for the king’s palace, leaving +the cottage door open, the fire burning, the pot of potatoes boiling upon it, +the sheep scattered over the hill, and the dogs not knowing what to do. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly were they gone, however, before the wise woman walked up, with Prince +behind her, peeped into the cottage, locked the door, put the key in her +pocket, and then walked away up the hill. In a few minutes there arose a great +battle between Prince and the dog which filled his former place—a +well-meaning but dull fellow, who could fight better than feed. Prince was not +long in showing him that he was meant for his master, and then, by his efforts, +and directions to the other dogs, the sheep were soon gathered again, and out +of danger from foxes and bad dogs. As soon as this was done, the wise woman +left them in charge of Prince, while she went to the next farm to arrange for +the folding of the sheep and the feeding of the dogs. +</p> + +<p> +When the soldiers reached the palace, they were ordered to carry their +prisoners at once into the presence of the king and queen, in the throne room. +Their two thrones stood upon a high dais at one end, and on the floor at the +foot of the dais, the soldiers laid their helpless prisoners. The queen +commanded that they should be unbound, and ordered them to stand up. They +obeyed with the dignity of insulted innocence, and their bearing offended their +foolish majesties. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the princess, after a long day’s journey, arrived at the palace, +and walked up to the sentry at the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand back,” said the sentry. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to go in, if you please,” said the princess gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the sentry, for he was one of those dull +people who form their judgment from a person’s clothes, without even +looking in his eyes; and as the princess happened to be in rags, her request +was amusing, and the booby thought himself quite clever for laughing at her so +thoroughly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the princess,” Rosamond said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>What</i> princess?” bellowed the man. +</p> + +<p> +“The princess Rosamond. Is there another?” she answered and asked. +</p> + +<p> +But the man was so tickled at the wondrous idea of a princess in rags, that he +scarcely heard what she said for laughing. As soon as he recovered a little, he +proceeded to chuck the princess under the chin, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a pretty girl, my dear, though you ain’t no +princess.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond drew back with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“You have spoken three untruths at once,” she said. “I am +<i>not</i> pretty, and I <i>am</i> a princess, and if I were dear to you, as I +ought to be, you would not laugh at me because I am badly dressed, but stand +aside, and let me go to my father and mother.” +</p> + +<p> +The tone of her speech, and the rebuke she gave him, made the man look at her; +and looking at her, he began to tremble inside his foolish body, and wonder +whether he might not have made a mistake. He raised his hand in salute, and +said— +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, miss, but I have express orders to admit no child +whatever within the palace gates. They tell me his majesty the king says he is +sick of children.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may well be sick of me!” thought the princess; “but it +can’t mean that he does not want me home again.—I don’t think +you can very well call me a child,” she said, looking the sentry full in +the face. +</p> + +<p> +“You ain’t very big, miss,” answered the soldier, “but +so be you say you ain’t a child, I’ll take the risk. The king can +only kill me, and a man must die once.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the gate, stepped aside, and allowed her to pass. Had she lost her +temper, as every one but the wise woman would have expected of her, he +certainly would not have done so. +</p> + +<p> +She ran into the palace, the door of which had been left open by the porter +when he followed the soldiers and prisoners to the throne-room, and bounded up +the stairs to look for her father and mother. As she passed the door of the +throne-room she heard an unusual noise in it, and running to the king’s +private entrance, over which hung a heavy curtain, she peeped past the edge of +it, and saw, to her amazement, the shepherd and shepherdess standing like +culprits before the king and queen, and the same moment heard the king +say— +</p> + +<p> +“Peasants, where is the princess Rosamond?” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, sire, we do not know,” answered the shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to know,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, we could keep her no longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“You confess, then,” said the king, suppressing the outbreak of the +wrath that boiled up in him, “that you turned her out of your +house.” +</p> + +<p> +For the king had been informed by a swift messenger of all that had passed long +before the arrival of the prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +“We did, sire; but not only could we keep her no longer, but we knew not +that she was the princess.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to have known, the moment you cast your eyes upon her,” +said the king. “Any one who does not know a princess the moment he sees +her, ought to have his eyes put out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed he ought,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +To this they returned no answer, for they had none ready. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not bring her at once to the palace,” pursued the +king, “whether you knew her to be a princess or not? My proclamation left +nothing to your judgment. It said <i>every child</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“We heard nothing of the proclamation, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to have heard,” said the king. “It is enough that +I make proclamations; it is for you to read them. Are they not written in +letters of gold upon the brazen gates of this palace?” +</p> + +<p> +“A poor shepherd, your majesty—how often must he leave his flock, +and go hundreds of miles to look whether there may not be something in letters +of gold upon the brazen gates? We did not know that your majesty had made a +proclamation, or even that the princess was lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to have known,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd held his peace. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the queen, taking up the word, “all that is as +nothing, when I think how you misused the darling.” +</p> + +<p> +The only ground the queen had for saying thus, was what Agnes had told her as +to how the princess was dressed; and her condition seemed to the queen so +miserable, that she had imagined all sorts of oppression and cruelty. +</p> + +<p> +But this was more than the shepherdess, who had not yet spoken, could bear. +</p> + +<p> +“She would have been dead, and <i>not</i> buried, long ago, madam, if I +had not carried her home in my two arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why does she say her <i>two</i> arms?” said the king to himself. +“Has she more than two? Is there treason in that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You dressed her in cast-off clothes,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“I dressed her in my own sweet child’s Sunday clothes. And this is +what I get for it!” cried the shepherdess, bursting into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you do with the clothes you took off her? Sell them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put them in the fire, madam. They were not fit for the poorest child in +the mountains. They were so ragged that you could see her skin through them in +twenty different places.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cruel woman, to torture a mother’s feelings so!” cried +the queen, and in her turn burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m sure,” sobbed the shepherdess, “I took every +pains to teach her what it was right for her to know. I taught her to tidy the +house and”— +</p> + +<p> +“Tidy the house!” moaned the queen. “My poor wretched +offspring!” +</p> + +<p> +“And peel the potatoes, and”— +</p> + +<p> +“Peel the potatoes!” cried the queen. “Oh, horror!” +</p> + +<p> +“And black her master’s boots,” said the shepherdess. +</p> + +<p> +“Black her master’s boots!” shrieked the queen. “Oh, my +white-handed princess! Oh, my ruined baby!” +</p> + +<p> +“What I want to know,” said the king, paying no heed to this +maternal duel, but patting the top of his sceptre as if it had been the hilt of +a sword which he was about to draw, “is, where the princess is +now.” +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd made no answer, for he had nothing to say more than he had said +already. +</p> + +<p> +“You have murdered her!” shouted the king. “You shall be +tortured till you confess the truth; and then you shall be tortured to death, +for you are the most abominable wretches in the whole wide world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who accuses me of crime?” cried the shepherd, indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“I accuse you,” said the king; “but you shall see, face to +face, the chief witness to your villany. Officer, bring the girl.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence filled the hall while they waited. The king’s face was swollen +with anger. The queen hid hers behind her handkerchief. The shepherd and +shepherdess bent their eyes on the ground, wondering. It was with difficulty +Rosamond could keep her place, but so wise had she already become that she saw +it would be far better to let every thing come out before she interfered. +</p> + +<p> +At length the door opened, and in came the officer, followed by Agnes, looking +white as death and mean as sin. +</p> + +<p> +The shepherdess gave a shriek, and darted towards her with arms spread wide; +the shepherd followed, but not so eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“My child! my lost darling! my Agnes!” cried the shepherdess. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold them asunder,” shouted the king. “Here is more villany! +What! have I a scullery-maid in my house born of such parents? The parents of +such a child must be capable of any thing. Take all three of them to the rack. +Stretch them till their joints are torn asunder, and give them no water. Away +with them!” +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers approached to lay hands on them. But, behold! a girl all in rags, +with such a radiant countenance that it was right lovely to see, darted +between, and careless of the royal presence, flung herself upon the +shepherdess, crying,— +</p> + +<p> +“Do not touch her. She is my good, kind mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +But the shepherdess could hear or see no one but her Agnes, and pushed her +away. Then the princess turned, with the tears in her eyes, to the shepherd, +and threw her arms about his neck and pulled down his head and kissed him. And +the tall shepherd lifted her to his bosom and kept her there, but his eyes were +fixed on his Agnes. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the meaning of this?” cried the king, starting up from his +throne. “How did that ragged girl get in here? Take her away with the +rest. She is one of them, too.” +</p> + +<p> +But the princess made the shepherd set her down, and before any one could +interfere she had run up the steps of the dais and then the steps of the +king’s throne like a squirrel, flung herself upon the king, and begun to +smother him with kisses. +</p> + +<p> +All stood astonished, except the three peasants, who did not even see what took +place. The shepherdess kept calling to her Agnes, but she was so ashamed that +she did not dare even lift her eyes to meet her mother’s, and the +shepherd kept gazing on her in silence. As for the king, he was so breathless +and aghast with astonishment, that he was too feeble to fling the ragged child +from him, as he tried to do. But she left him, and running down the steps of +the one throne and up those of the other, began kissing the queen next. But the +queen cried out,— +</p> + +<p> +“Get away, you great rude child!—Will nobody take her to the +rack?” +</p> + +<p> +Then the princess, hardly knowing what she did for joy that she had come in +time, ran down the steps of the throne and the dais, and placing herself +between the shepherd and shepherdess, took a hand of each, and stood looking at +the king and queen. +</p> + +<p> +Their faces began to change. At last they began to know her. But she was so +altered—so lovelily altered, that it was no wonder they should not have +known her at the first glance; but it was the fault of the pride and anger and +injustice with which their hearts were filled, that they did not know her at +the second. +</p> + +<p> +The king gazed and the queen gazed, both half risen from their thrones, and +looking as if about to tumble down upon her, if only they could be right sure +that the ragged girl was their own child. A mistake would be such a dreadful +thing! +</p> + +<p> +“My darling!” at last shrieked the mother, a little doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“My pet of pets?” cried the father, with an interrogative twist of +tone. +</p> + +<p> +Another moment, and they were half way down the steps of the dais. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” said a voice of command from somewhere in the hall, and, +king and queen as they were, they stopped at once half way, then drew +themselves up, stared, and began to grow angry again, but durst not go farther. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman was coming slowly up through the crowd that filled the hall. +Every one made way for her. She came straight on until she stood in front of +the king and queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Miserable man and woman!” she said, in words they alone could +hear, “I took your daughter away when she was worthy of such parents; I +bring her back, and they are unworthy of her. That you did not know her when +she came to you is a small wonder, for you have been blind in soul all your +lives: now be blind in body until your better eyes are unsealed.” +</p> + +<p> +She threw her cloak open. It fell to the ground, and the radiance that flashed +from her robe of snowy whiteness, from her face of awful beauty, and from her +eyes that shone like pools of sunlight, smote them blind. +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond saw them give a great start, shudder, waver to and fro, then sit down +on the steps of the dais; and she knew they were punished, but knew not how. +She rushed up to them, and catching a hand of each said— +</p> + +<p> +“Father, dear father! mother dear! I will ask the wise woman to forgive +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am blind! I am blind!” they cried together. “Dark as +night! Stone blind!” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond left them, sprang down the steps, and kneeling at her feet, cried, +“Oh, my lovely wise woman! do let them see. Do open their eyes, dear, +good, wise woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman bent down to her, and said, so that none else could hear, +“I will one day. Meanwhile you must be their servant, as I have been +yours. Bring them to me, and I will make them welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond rose, went up the steps again to her father and mother, where they sat +like statues with closed eyes, half-way from the top of the dais where stood +their empty thrones, seated herself between them, took a hand of each, and was +still. +</p> + +<p> +All this time very few in the room saw the wise woman. The moment she threw off +her cloak she vanished from the sight of almost all who were present. The woman +who swept and dusted the hall and brushed the thrones, saw her, and the +shepherd had a glimmering vision of her; but no one else that I know of caught +a glimpse of her. The shepherdess did not see her. Nor did Agnes, but she felt +her presence upon her like the beat of a furnace seven times heated. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Rosamond had taken her place between her father and mother, the wise +woman lifted her cloak from the floor, and threw it again around her. Then +everybody saw her, and Agnes felt as if a soft dewy cloud had come between her +and the torrid rays of a vertical sun. The wise woman turned to the shepherd +and shepherdess. +</p> + +<p> +“For you,” she said, “you are sufficiently punished by the +work of your own hands. Instead of making your daughter obey you, you left her +to be a slave to herself; you coaxed when you ought to have compelled; you +praised when you ought to have been silent; you fondled when you ought to have +punished; you threatened when you ought to have inflicted—and there she +stands, the full-grown result of your foolishness! She is your crime and your +punishment. Take her home with you, and live hour after hour with the +pale-hearted disgrace you call your daughter. What she is, the worm at her +heart has begun to teach her. When life is no longer endurable, come to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said the shepherd, “may I not go with you +now?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall,” said the wise woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Husband! husband!” cried the shepherdess, “how are we two to +get home without you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see to that,” said the wise woman. “But little of +home you will find it until you have come to me. The king carried you hither, +and he shall carry you back. But your husband shall not go with you. He cannot +now if he would.” +</p> + +<p> +The shepherdess looked and saw that the shepherd stood in a deep sleep. She +went to him and sought to rouse him, but neither tongue nor hands were of the +slightest avail. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman turned to Rosamond. +</p> + +<p> +“My child,” she said, “I shall never be far from you. Come to +me when you will. Bring them to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Rosamond smiled and kissed her hand, but kept her place by her parents. They +also were now in a deep sleep like the shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +The wise woman took the shepherd by the hand, and led him away. +</p> + +<p> +And that is all my double story. How double it is, if you care to know, you +must find out. If you think it is not finished—I never knew a story that +was. I could tell you a great deal more concerning them all, but I have already +told more than is good for those who read but with their foreheads, and enough +for those whom it has made look a little solemn, and sigh as they close the +book. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOUBLE STORY ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 5676-h.htm or 5676-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/7/5676/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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