1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
|
<!DOCTYPE html
PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html>
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
<title>A House of Pomegranates</title>
</head>
<body>
<h2>
<a href="#startoftext">A House of Pomegranates, by Oscar Wilde</a>
</h2>
<pre>
The Project Gutenberg EBook of A House of Pomegranates, by Oscar Wilde
(#8 in our series by Oscar Wilde)
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Title: A House of Pomegranates
Author: Oscar Wilde
Release Date: April, 1997 [EBook #873]
[This file was first posted on April 8, 1997]
[Most recently updated: September 25, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
</pre>
<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
<p>Transcribed from the 1915 Methuen and Co. edition by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<h1>A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES</h1>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<p>Contents:</p>
<p>The Young King<br />The Birthday of the Infanta<br />The Fisherman
and his Soul<br />The Star-child</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<h2>THE YOUNG KING</h2>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<p>[TO MARGARET LADY BROOKE - THE RANEE OF SARAWAK]</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>It was the night before the day fixed for his coronation, and the
young King was sitting alone in his beautiful chamber. His courtiers
had all taken their leave of him, bowing their heads to the ground,
according to the ceremonious usage of the day, and had retired to the
Great Hall of the Palace, to receive a few last lessons from the Professor
of Etiquette; there being some of them who had still quite natural manners,
which in a courtier is, I need hardly say, a very grave offence.</p>
<p>The lad - for he was only a lad, being but sixteen years of age -
was not sorry at their departure, and had flung himself back with a
deep sigh of relief on the soft cushions of his embroidered couch, lying
there, wild-eyed and open-mouthed, like a brown woodland Faun, or some
young animal of the forest newly snared by the hunters.</p>
<p>And, indeed, it was the hunters who had found him, coming upon him
almost by chance as, bare-limbed and pipe in hand, he was following
the flock of the poor goatherd who had brought him up, and whose son
he had always fancied himself to be. The child of the old King’s
only daughter by a secret marriage with one much beneath her in station
- a stranger, some said, who, by the wonderful magic of his lute-playing,
had made the young Princess love him; while others spoke of an artist
from Rimini, to whom the Princess had shown much, perhaps too much honour,
and who had suddenly disappeared from the city, leaving his work in
the Cathedral unfinished - he had been, when but a week old, stolen
away from his mother’s side, as she slept, and given into the
charge of a common peasant and his wife, who were without children of
their own, and lived in a remote part of the forest, more than a day’s
ride from the town. Grief, or the plague, as the court physician
stated, or, as some suggested, a swift Italian poison administered in
a cup of spiced wine, slew, within an hour of her wakening, the white
girl who had given him birth, and as the trusty messenger who bare the
child across his saddle-bow stooped from his weary horse and knocked
at the rude door of the goatherd’s hut, the body of the Princess
was being lowered into an open grave that had been dug in a deserted
churchyard, beyond the city gates, a grave where it was said that another
body was also lying, that of a young man of marvellous and foreign beauty,
whose hands were tied behind him with a knotted cord, and whose breast
was stabbed with many red wounds.</p>
<p>Such, at least, was the story that men whispered to each other.
Certain it was that the old King, when on his deathbed, whether moved
by remorse for his great sin, or merely desiring that the kingdom should
not pass away from his line, had had the lad sent for, and, in the presence
of the Council, had acknowledged him as his heir.</p>
<p>And it seems that from the very first moment of his recognition he
had shown signs of that strange passion for beauty that was destined
to have so great an influence over his life. Those who accompanied
him to the suite of rooms set apart for his service, often spoke of
the cry of pleasure that broke from his lips when he saw the delicate
raiment and rich jewels that had been prepared for him, and of the almost
fierce joy with which he flung aside his rough leathern tunic and coarse
sheepskin cloak. He missed, indeed, at times the fine freedom
of his forest life, and was always apt to chafe at the tedious Court
ceremonies that occupied so much of each day, but the wonderful palace
- <i>Joyeuse</i>, as they called it - of which he now found himself
lord, seemed to him to be a new world fresh-fashioned for his delight;
and as soon as he could escape from the council-board or audience-chamber,
he would run down the great staircase, with its lions of gilt bronze
and its steps of bright porphyry, and wander from room to room, and
from corridor to corridor, like one who was seeking to find in beauty
an anodyne from pain, a sort of restoration from sickness.</p>
<p>Upon these journeys of discovery, as he would call them - and, indeed,
they were to him real voyages through a marvellous land, he would sometimes
be accompanied by the slim, fair-haired Court pages, with their floating
mantles, and gay fluttering ribands; but more often he would be alone,
feeling through a certain quick instinct, which was almost a divination,
that the secrets of art are best learned in secret, and that Beauty,
like Wisdom, loves the lonely worshipper.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Many curious stories were related about him at this period.
It was said that a stout Burgo-master, who had come to deliver a florid
oratorical address on behalf of the citizens of the town, had caught
sight of him kneeling in real adoration before a great picture that
had just been brought from Venice, and that seemed to herald the worship
of some new gods. On another occasion he had been missed for several
hours, and after a lengthened search had been discovered in a little
chamber in one of the northern turrets of the palace gazing, as one
in a trance, at a Greek gem carved with the figure of Adonis.
He had been seen, so the tale ran, pressing his warm lips to the marble
brow of an antique statue that had been discovered in the bed of the
river on the occasion of the building of the stone bridge, and was inscribed
with the name of the Bithynian slave of Hadrian. He had passed
a whole night in noting the effect of the moonlight on a silver image
of Endymion.</p>
<p>All rare and costly materials had certainly a great fascination for
him, and in his eagerness to procure them he had sent away many merchants,
some to traffic for amber with the rough fisher-folk of the north seas,
some to Egypt to look for that curious green turquoise which is found
only in the tombs of kings, and is said to possess magical properties,
some to Persia for silken carpets and painted pottery, and others to
India to buy gauze and stained ivory, moonstones and bracelets of jade,
sandal-wood and blue enamel and shawls of fine wool.</p>
<p>But what had occupied him most was the robe he was to wear at his
coronation, the robe of tissued gold, and the ruby-studded crown, and
the sceptre with its rows and rings of pearls. Indeed, it was
of this that he was thinking to-night, as he lay back on his luxurious
couch, watching the great pinewood log that was burning itself out on
the open hearth. The designs, which were from the hands of the
most famous artists of the time, had been submitted to him many months
before, and he had given orders that the artificers were to toil night
and day to carry them out, and that the whole world was to be searched
for jewels that would be worthy of their work. He saw himself
in fancy standing at the high altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment
of a King, and a smile played and lingered about his boyish lips, and
lit up with a bright lustre his dark woodland eyes.</p>
<p>After some time he rose from his seat, and leaning against the carved
penthouse of the chimney, looked round at the dimly-lit room.
The walls were hung with rich tapestries representing the Triumph of
Beauty. A large press, inlaid with agate and lapis-lazuli, filled
one corner, and facing the window stood a curiously wrought cabinet
with lacquer panels of powdered and mosaiced gold, on which were placed
some delicate goblets of Venetian glass, and a cup of dark-veined onyx.
Pale poppies were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though
they had fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of fluted
ivory bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of ostrich plumes
sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the fretted ceiling.
A laughing Narcissus in green bronze held a polished mirror above its
head. On the table stood a flat bowl of amethyst.</p>
<p>Outside he could see the huge dome of the cathedral, looming like
a bubble over the shadowy houses, and the weary sentinels pacing up
and down on the misty terrace by the river. Far away, in an orchard,
a nightingale was singing. A faint perfume of jasmine came through
the open window. He brushed his brown curls back from his forehead,
and taking up a lute, let his fingers stray across the cords.
His heavy eyelids drooped, and a strange languor came over him.
Never before had he felt so keenly, or with such exquisite joy, the
magic and the mystery of beautiful things.</p>
<p>When midnight sounded from the clock-tower he touched a bell, and
his pages entered and disrobed him with much ceremony, pouring rose-water
over his hands, and strewing flowers on his pillow. A few moments
after that they had left the room, he fell asleep.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And as he slept he dreamed a dream, and this was his dream.</p>
<p>He thought that he was standing in a long, low attic, amidst the
whir and clatter of many looms. The meagre daylight peered in
through the grated windows, and showed him the gaunt figures of the
weavers bending over their cases. Pale, sickly-looking children
were crouched on the huge crossbeams. As the shuttles dashed through
the warp they lifted up the heavy battens, and when the shuttles stopped
they let the battens fall and pressed the threads together. Their
faces were pinched with famine, and their thin hands shook and trembled.
Some haggard women were seated at a table sewing. A horrible odour
filled the place. The air was foul and heavy, and the walls dripped
and streamed with damp.</p>
<p>The young King went over to one of the weavers, and stood by him
and watched him.</p>
<p>And the weaver looked at him angrily, and said, ‘Why art thou
watching me? Art thou a spy set on us by our master?’</p>
<p>‘Who is thy master?’ asked the young King.</p>
<p>‘Our master!’ cried the weaver, bitterly. ‘He
is a man like myself. Indeed, there is but this difference between
us - that he wears fine clothes while I go in rags, and that while I
am weak from hunger he suffers not a little from overfeeding.’</p>
<p>‘The land is free,’ said the young King, ‘and thou
art no man’s slave.’</p>
<p>‘In war,’ answered the weaver, ‘the strong make
slaves of the weak, and in peace the rich make slaves of the poor.
We must work to live, and they give us such mean wages that we die.
We toil for them all day long, and they heap up gold in their coffers,
and our children fade away before their time, and the faces of those
we love become hard and evil. We tread out the grapes, and another
drinks the wine. We sow the corn, and our own board is empty.
We have chains, though no eye beholds them; and are slaves, though men
call us free.’</p>
<p>‘Is it so with all?’ he asked,</p>
<p>‘It is so with all,’ answered the weaver, ‘with
the young as well as with the old, with the women as well as with the
men, with the little children as well as with those who are stricken
in years. The merchants grind us down, and we must needs do their
bidding. The priest rides by and tells his beads, and no man has
care of us. Through our sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her
hungry eyes, and Sin with his sodden face follows close behind her.
Misery wakes us in the morning, and Shame sits with us at night.
But what are these things to thee? Thou art not one of us.
Thy face is too happy.’ And he turned away scowling, and
threw the shuttle across the loom, and the young King saw that it was
threaded with a thread of gold.</p>
<p>And a great terror seized upon him, and he said to the weaver, ‘What
robe is this that thou art weaving?’</p>
<p>‘It is the robe for the coronation of the young King,’
he answered; ‘what is that to thee?’</p>
<p>And the young King gave a loud cry and woke, and lo! he was in his
own chamber, and through the window he saw the great honey-coloured
moon hanging in the dusky air.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And he fell asleep again and dreamed, and this was his dream.</p>
<p>He thought that he was lying on the deck of a huge galley that was
being rowed by a hundred slaves. On a carpet by his side the master
of the galley was seated. He was black as ebony, and his turban
was of crimson silk. Great earrings of silver dragged down the
thick lobes of his ears, and in his hands he had a pair of ivory scales.</p>
<p>The slaves were naked, but for a ragged loin-cloth, and each man
was chained to his neighbour. The hot sun beat brightly upon them,
and the negroes ran up and down the gangway and lashed them with whips
of hide. They stretched out their lean arms and pulled the heavy
oars through the water. The salt spray flew from the blades.</p>
<p>At last they reached a little bay, and began to take soundings.
A light wind blew from the shore, and covered the deck and the great
lateen sail with a fine red dust. Three Arabs mounted on wild
asses rode out and threw spears at them. The master of the galley
took a painted bow in his hand and shot one of them in the throat.
He fell heavily into the surf, and his companions galloped away.
A woman wrapped in a yellow veil followed slowly on a camel, looking
back now and then at the dead body.</p>
<p>As soon as they had cast anchor and hauled down the sail, the negroes
went into the hold and brought up a long rope-ladder, heavily weighted
with lead. The master of the galley threw it over the side, making
the ends fast to two iron stanchions. Then the negroes seized
the youngest of the slaves and knocked his gyves off, and filled his
nostrils and his ears with wax, and tied a big stone round his waist.
He crept wearily down the ladder, and disappeared into the sea.
A few bubbles rose where he sank. Some of the other slaves peered
curiously over the side. At the prow of the galley sat a shark-charmer,
beating monotonously upon a drum.</p>
<p>After some time the diver rose up out of the water, and clung panting
to the ladder with a pearl in his right hand. The negroes seized
it from him, and thrust him back. The slaves fell asleep over
their oars.</p>
<p>Again and again he came up, and each time that he did so he brought
with him a beautiful pearl. The master of the galley weighed them,
and put them into a little bag of green leather.</p>
<p>The young King tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to cleave to
the roof of his mouth, and his lips refused to move. The negroes
chattered to each other, and began to quarrel over a string of bright
beads. Two cranes flew round and round the vessel.</p>
<p>Then the diver came up for the last time, and the pearl that he brought
with him was fairer than all the pearls of Ormuz, for it was shaped
like the full moon, and whiter than the morning star. But his
face was strangely pale, and as he fell upon the deck the blood gushed
from his ears and nostrils. He quivered for a little, and then
he was still. The negroes shrugged their shoulders, and threw
the body overboard.</p>
<p>And the master of the galley laughed, and, reaching out, he took
the pearl, and when he saw it he pressed it to his forehead and bowed.
‘It shall be,’ he said, ‘for the sceptre of the young
King,’ and he made a sign to the negroes to draw up the anchor.</p>
<p>And when the young King heard this he gave a great cry, and woke,
and through the window he saw the long grey fingers of the dawn clutching
at the fading stars.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And he fell asleep again, and dreamed, and this was his dream.</p>
<p>He thought that he was wandering through a dim wood, hung with strange
fruits and with beautiful poisonous flowers. The adders hissed
at him as he went by, and the bright parrots flew screaming from branch
to branch. Huge tortoises lay asleep upon the hot mud. The
trees were full of apes and peacocks.</p>
<p>On and on he went, till he reached the outskirts of the wood, and
there he saw an immense multitude of men toiling in the bed of a dried-up
river. They swarmed up the crag like ants. They dug deep
pits in the ground and went down into them. Some of them cleft
the rocks with great axes; others grabbled in the sand.</p>
<p>They tore up the cactus by its roots, and trampled on the scarlet
blossoms. They hurried about, calling to each other, and no man
was idle.</p>
<p>From the darkness of a cavern Death and Avarice watched them, and
Death said, ‘I am weary; give me a third of them and let me go.’
But Avarice shook her head. ‘They are my servants,’
she answered.</p>
<p>And Death said to her, ‘What hast thou in thy hand?’</p>
<p>‘I have three grains of corn,’ she answered; ‘what
is that to thee?’</p>
<p>‘Give me one of them,’ cried Death, ‘to plant in
my garden; only one of them, and I will go away.’</p>
<p>‘I will not give thee anything,’ said Avarice, and she
hid her hand in the fold of her raiment.</p>
<p>And Death laughed, and took a cup, and dipped it into a pool of water,
and out of the cup rose Ague. She passed through the great multitude,
and a third of them lay dead. A cold mist followed her, and the
water-snakes ran by her side.</p>
<p>And when Avarice saw that a third of the multitude was dead she beat
her breast and wept. She beat her barren bosom, and cried aloud.
‘Thou hast slain a third of my servants,’ she cried, ‘get
thee gone. There is war in the mountains of Tartary, and the kings
of each side are calling to thee. The Afghans have slain the black
ox, and are marching to battle. They have beaten upon their shields
with their spears, and have put on their helmets of iron. What
is my valley to thee, that thou shouldst tarry in it? Get thee
gone, and come here no more.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ answered Death, ‘but till thou hast given
me a grain of corn I will not go.’</p>
<p>But Avarice shut her hand, and clenched her teeth. ‘I
will not give thee anything,’ she muttered.</p>
<p>And Death laughed, and took up a black stone, and threw it into the
forest, and out of a thicket of wild hemlock came Fever in a robe of
flame. She passed through the multitude, and touched them, and
each man that she touched died. The grass withered beneath her
feet as she walked.</p>
<p>And Avarice shuddered, and put ashes on her head. ‘Thou
art cruel,’ she cried; ‘thou art cruel. There is famine
in the walled cities of India, and the cisterns of Samarcand have run
dry. There is famine in the walled cities of Egypt, and the locusts
have come up from the desert. The Nile has not overflowed its
banks, and the priests have cursed Isis and Osiris. Get thee gone
to those who need thee, and leave me my servants.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ answered Death, ‘but till thou hast given
me a grain of corn I will not go.’</p>
<p>‘I will not give thee anything,’ said Avarice.</p>
<p>And Death laughed again, and he whistled through his fingers, and
a woman came flying through the air. Plague was written upon her
forehead, and a crowd of lean vultures wheeled round her. She
covered the valley with her wings, and no man was left alive.</p>
<p>And Avarice fled shrieking through the forest, and Death leaped upon
his red horse and galloped away, and his galloping was faster than the
wind.</p>
<p>And out of the slime at the bottom of the valley crept dragons and
horrible things with scales, and the jackals came trotting along the
sand, sniffing up the air with their nostrils.</p>
<p>And the young King wept, and said: ‘Who were these men, and
for what were they seeking?’</p>
<p>‘For rubies for a king’s crown,’ answered one who
stood behind him.</p>
<p>And the young King started, and, turning round, he saw a man habited
as a pilgrim and holding in his hand a mirror of silver.</p>
<p>And he grew pale, and said: ‘For what king?’</p>
<p>And the pilgrim answered: ‘Look in this mirror, and thou shalt
see him.’</p>
<p>And he looked in the mirror, and, seeing his own face, he gave a
great cry and woke, and the bright sunlight was streaming into the room,
and from the trees of the garden and pleasaunce the birds were singing.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And the Chamberlain and the high officers of State came in and made
obeisance to him, and the pages brought him the robe of tissued gold,
and set the crown and the sceptre before him.</p>
<p>And the young King looked at them, and they were beautiful.
More beautiful were they than aught that he had ever seen. But
he remembered his dreams, and he said to his lords: ‘Take these
things away, for I will not wear them.’</p>
<p>And the courtiers were amazed, and some of them laughed, for they
thought that he was jesting.</p>
<p>But he spake sternly to them again, and said: ‘Take these things
away, and hide them from me. Though it be the day of my coronation,
I will not wear them. For on the loom of Sorrow, and by the white
hands of Pain, has this my robe been woven. There is Blood in
the heart of the ruby, and Death in the heart of the pearl.’
And he told them his three dreams.</p>
<p>And when the courtiers heard them they looked at each other and whispered,
saying: ‘Surely he is mad; for what is a dream but a dream, and
a vision but a vision? They are not real things that one should
heed them. And what have we to do with the lives of those who
toil for us? Shall a man not eat bread till he has seen the sower,
nor drink wine till he has talked with the vinedresser?’</p>
<p>And the Chamberlain spake to the young King, and said, ‘My
lord, I pray thee set aside these black thoughts of thine, and put on
this fair robe, and set this crown upon thy head. For how shall
the people know that thou art a king, if thou hast not a king’s
raiment?’</p>
<p>And the young King looked at him. ‘Is it so, indeed?’
he questioned. ‘Will they not know me for a king if I have
not a king’s raiment?’</p>
<p>‘They will not know thee, my lord,’ cried the Chamberlain.</p>
<p>‘I had thought that there had been men who were kinglike,’
he answered, ‘but it may be as thou sayest. And yet I will
not wear this robe, nor will I be crowned with this crown, but even
as I came to the palace so will I go forth from it.’</p>
<p>And he bade them all leave him, save one page whom he kept as his
companion, a lad a year younger than himself. Him he kept for
his service, and when he had bathed himself in clear water, he opened
a great painted chest, and from it he took the leathern tunic and rough
sheepskin cloak that he had worn when he had watched on the hillside
the shaggy goats of the goatherd. These he put on, and in his
hand he took his rude shepherd’s staff.</p>
<p>And the little page opened his big blue eyes in wonder, and said
smiling to him, ‘My lord, I see thy robe and thy sceptre, but
where is thy crown?’</p>
<p>And the young King plucked a spray of wild briar that was climbing
over the balcony, and bent it, and made a circlet of it, and set it
on his own head.</p>
<p>‘This shall he my crown,’ he answered.</p>
<p>And thus attired he passed out of his chamber into the Great Hall,
where the nobles were waiting for him.</p>
<p>And the nobles made merry, and some of them cried out to him, ‘My
lord, the people wait for their king, and thou showest them a beggar,’
and others were wroth and said, ‘He brings shame upon our state,
and is unworthy to be our master.’ But he answered them
not a word, but passed on, and went down the bright porphyry staircase,
and out through the gates of bronze, and mounted upon his horse, and
rode towards the cathedral, the little page running beside him.</p>
<p>And the people laughed and said, ‘It is the King’s fool
who is riding by,’ and they mocked him.</p>
<p>And he drew rein and said, ‘Nay, but I am the King.’
And he told them his three dreams.</p>
<p>And a man came out of the crowd and spake bitterly to him, and said,
‘Sir, knowest thou not that out of the luxury of the rich cometh
the life of the poor? By your pomp we are nurtured, and your vices
give us bread. To toil for a hard master is bitter, but to have
no master to toil for is more bitter still. Thinkest thou that
the ravens will feed us? And what cure hast thou for these things?
Wilt thou say to the buyer, “Thou shalt buy for so much,”
and to the seller, “Thou shalt sell at this price”?
I trow not. Therefore go back to thy Palace and put on thy purple
and fine linen. What hast thou to do with us, and what we suffer?’</p>
<p>‘Are not the rich and the poor brothers?’ asked the young
King.</p>
<p>‘Ay,’ answered the man, ‘and the name of the rich
brother is Cain.’</p>
<p>And the young King’s eyes filled with tears, and he rode on
through the murmurs of the people, and the little page grew afraid and
left him.</p>
<p>And when he reached the great portal of the cathedral, the soldiers
thrust their halberts out and said, ‘What dost thou seek here?
None enters by this door but the King.’</p>
<p>And his face flushed with anger, and he said to them, ‘I am
the King,’ and waved their halberts aside and passed in.</p>
<p>And when the old Bishop saw him coming in his goatherd’s dress,
he rose up in wonder from his throne, and went to meet him, and said
to him, ‘My son, is this a king’s apparel? And with
what crown shall I crown thee, and what sceptre shall I place in thy
hand? Surely this should be to thee a day of joy, and not a day
of abasement.’</p>
<p>‘Shall Joy wear what Grief has fashioned?’ said the young
King. And he told him his three dreams.</p>
<p>And when the Bishop had heard them he knit his brows, and said, ‘My
son, I am an old man, and in the winter of my days, and I know that
many evil things are done in the wide world. The fierce robbers
come down from the mountains, and carry off the little children, and
sell them to the Moors. The lions lie in wait for the caravans,
and leap upon the camels. The wild boar roots up the corn in the
valley, and the foxes gnaw the vines upon the hill. The pirates
lay waste the sea-coast and burn the ships of the fishermen, and take
their nets from them. In the salt-marshes live the lepers; they
have houses of wattled reeds, and none may come nigh them. The
beggars wander through the cities, and eat their food with the dogs.
Canst thou make these things not to be? Wilt thou take the leper
for thy bedfellow, and set the beggar at thy board? Shall the
lion do thy bidding, and the wild boar obey thee? Is not He who
made misery wiser than thou art? Wherefore I praise thee not for
this that thou hast done, but I bid thee ride back to the Palace and
make thy face glad, and put on the raiment that beseemeth a king, and
with the crown of gold I will crown thee, and the sceptre of pearl will
I place in thy hand. And as for thy dreams, think no more of them.
The burden of this world is too great for one man to bear, and the world’s
sorrow too heavy for one heart to suffer.’</p>
<p>‘Sayest thou that in this house?’ said the young King,
and he strode past the Bishop, and climbed up the steps of the altar,
and stood before the image of Christ.</p>
<p>He stood before the image of Christ, and on his right hand and on
his left were the marvellous vessels of gold, the chalice with the yellow
wine, and the vial with the holy oil. He knelt before the image
of Christ, and the great candles burned brightly by the jewelled shrine,
and the smoke of the incense curled in thin blue wreaths through the
dome. He bowed his head in prayer, and the priests in their stiff
copes crept away from the altar.</p>
<p>And suddenly a wild tumult came from the street outside, and in entered
the nobles with drawn swords and nodding plumes, and shields of polished
steel. ‘Where is this dreamer of dreams?’ they cried.
‘Where is this King who is apparelled like a beggar - this boy
who brings shame upon our state? Surely we will slay him, for
he is unworthy to rule over us.’</p>
<p>And the young King bowed his head again, and prayed, and when he
had finished his prayer he rose up, and turning round he looked at them
sadly.</p>
<p>And lo! through the painted windows came the sunlight streaming upon
him, and the sun-beams wove round him a tissued robe that was fairer
than the robe that had been fashioned for his pleasure. The dead
staff blossomed, and bare lilies that were whiter than pearls.
The dry thorn blossomed, and bare roses that were redder than rubies.
Whiter than fine pearls were the lilies, and their stems were of bright
silver. Redder than male rubies were the roses, and their leaves
were of beaten gold.</p>
<p>He stood there in the raiment of a king, and the gates of the jewelled
shrine flew open, and from the crystal of the many-rayed monstrance
shone a marvellous and mystical light. He stood there in a king’s
raiment, and the Glory of God filled the place, and the saints in their
carven niches seemed to move. In the fair raiment of a king he
stood before them, and the organ pealed out its music, and the trumpeters
blew upon their trumpets, and the singing boys sang.</p>
<p>And the people fell upon their knees in awe, and the nobles sheathed
their swords and did homage, and the Bishop’s face grew pale,
and his hands trembled. ‘A greater than I hath crowned thee,’
he cried, and he knelt before him.</p>
<p>And the young King came down from the high altar, and passed home
through the midst of the people. But no man dared look upon his
face, for it was like the face of an angel.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<h2>THE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTA</h2>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<p>[TO MRS. WILLIAM H. GRENFELL OF TAPLOW COURT - LADY DESBOROUGH]</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>It was the birthday of the Infanta. She was just twelve years
of age, and the sun was shining brightly in the gardens of the palace.</p>
<p>Although she was a real Princess and the Infanta of Spain, she had
only one birthday every year, just like the children of quite poor people,
so it was naturally a matter of great importance to the whole country
that she should have a really fine day for the occasion. And a
really fine day it certainly was. The tall striped tulips stood
straight up upon their stalks, like long rows of soldiers, and looked
defiantly across the grass at the roses, and said: ‘We are quite
as splendid as you are now.’ The purple butterflies fluttered
about with gold dust on their wings, visiting each flower in turn; the
little lizards crept out of the crevices of the wall, and lay basking
in the white glare; and the pomegranates split and cracked with the
heat, and showed their bleeding red hearts. Even the pale yellow
lemons, that hung in such profusion from the mouldering trellis and
along the dim arcades, seemed to have caught a richer colour from the
wonderful sunlight, and the magnolia trees opened their great globe-like
blossoms of folded ivory, and filled the air with a sweet heavy perfume.</p>
<p>The little Princess herself walked up and down the terrace with her
companions, and played at hide and seek round the stone vases and the
old moss-grown statues. On ordinary days she was only allowed
to play with children of her own rank, so she had always to play alone,
but her birthday was an exception, and the King had given orders that
she was to invite any of her young friends whom she liked to come and
amuse themselves with her. There was a stately grace about these
slim Spanish children as they glided about, the boys with their large-plumed
hats and short fluttering cloaks, the girls holding up the trains of
their long brocaded gowns, and shielding the sun from their eyes with
huge fans of black and silver. But the Infanta was the most graceful
of all, and the most tastefully attired, after the somewhat cumbrous
fashion of the day. Her robe was of grey satin, the skirt and
the wide puffed sleeves heavily embroidered with silver, and the stiff
corset studded with rows of fine pearls. Two tiny slippers with
big pink rosettes peeped out beneath her dress as she walked.
Pink and pearl was her great gauze fan, and in her hair, which like
an aureole of faded gold stood out stiffly round her pale little face,
she had a beautiful white rose.</p>
<p>From a window in the palace the sad melancholy King watched them.
Behind him stood his brother, Don Pedro of Aragon, whom he hated, and
his confessor, the Grand Inquisitor of Granada, sat by his side.
Sadder even than usual was the King, for as he looked at the Infanta
bowing with childish gravity to the assembling counters, or laughing
behind her fan at the grim Duchess of Albuquerque who always accompanied
her, he thought of the young Queen, her mother, who but a short time
before - so it seemed to him - had come from the gay country of France,
and had withered away in the sombre splendour of the Spanish court,
dying just six months after the birth of her child, and before she had
seen the almonds blossom twice in the orchard, or plucked the second
year’s fruit from the old gnarled fig-tree that stood in the centre
of the now grass-grown courtyard. So great had been his love for
her that he had not suffered even the grave to hide her from him.
She had been embalmed by a Moorish physician, who in return for this
service had been granted his life, which for heresy and suspicion of
magical practices had been already forfeited, men said, to the Holy
Office, and her body was still lying on its tapestried bier in the black
marble chapel of the Palace, just as the monks had borne her in on that
windy March day nearly twelve years before. Once every month the
King, wrapped in a dark cloak and with a muffled lantern in his hand,
went in and knelt by her side calling out, ‘<i>Mi reina</i>!
<i>Mi reina</i>!’ and sometimes breaking through the formal etiquette
that in Spain governs every separate action of life, and sets limits
even to the sorrow of a King, he would clutch at the pale jewelled hands
in a wild agony of grief, and try to wake by his mad kisses the cold
painted face.</p>
<p>To-day he seemed to see her again, as he had seen her first at the
Castle of Fontainebleau, when he was but fifteen years of age, and she
still younger. They had been formally betrothed on that occasion
by the Papal Nuncio in the presence of the French King and all the Court,
and he had returned to the Escurial bearing with him a little ringlet
of yellow hair, and the memory of two childish lips bending down to
kiss his hand as he stepped into his carriage. Later on had followed
the marriage, hastily performed at Burgos, a small town on the frontier
between the two countries, and the grand public entry into Madrid with
the customary celebration of high mass at the Church of La Atocha, and
a more than usually solemn <i>auto-da-fé</i>, in which nearly
three hundred heretics, amongst whom were many Englishmen, had been
delivered over to the secular arm to be burned.</p>
<p>Certainly he had loved her madly, and to the ruin, many thought,
of his country, then at war with England for the possession of the empire
of the New World. He had hardly ever permitted her to be out of
his sight; for her, he had forgotten, or seemed to have forgotten, all
grave affairs of State; and, with that terrible blindness that passion
brings upon its servants, he had failed to notice that the elaborate
ceremonies by which he sought to please her did but aggravate the strange
malady from which she suffered. When she died he was, for a time,
like one bereft of reason. Indeed, there is no doubt but that
he would have formally abdicated and retired to the great Trappist monastery
at Granada, of which he was already titular Prior, had he not been afraid
to leave the little Infanta at the mercy of his brother, whose cruelty,
even in Spain, was notorious, and who was suspected by many of having
caused the Queen’s death by means of a pair of poisoned gloves
that he had presented to her on the occasion of her visiting his castle
in Aragon. Even after the expiration of the three years of public
mourning that he had ordained throughout his whole dominions by royal
edict, he would never suffer his ministers to speak about any new alliance,
and when the Emperor himself sent to him, and offered him the hand of
the lovely Archduchess of Bohemia, his niece, in marriage, he bade the
ambassadors tell their master that the King of Spain was already wedded
to Sorrow, and that though she was but a barren bride he loved her better
than Beauty; an answer that cost his crown the rich provinces of the
Netherlands, which soon after, at the Emperor’s instigation, revolted
against him under the leadership of some fanatics of the Reformed Church.</p>
<p>His whole married life, with its fierce, fiery-coloured joys and
the terrible agony of its sudden ending, seemed to come back to him
to-day as he watched the Infanta playing on the terrace. She had
all the Queen’s pretty petulance of manner, the same wilful way
of tossing her head, the same proud curved beautiful mouth, the same
wonderful smile - <i>vrai sourire de France</i> indeed - as she glanced
up now and then at the window, or stretched out her little hand for
the stately Spanish gentlemen to kiss. But the shrill laughter
of the children grated on his ears, and the bright pitiless sunlight
mocked his sorrow, and a dull odour of strange spices, spices such as
embalmers use, seemed to taint - or was it fancy? - the clear morning
air. He buried his face in his hands, and when the Infanta looked
up again the curtains had been drawn, and the King had retired.</p>
<p>She made a little <i>moue</i> of disappointment, and shrugged her
shoulders. Surely he might have stayed with her on her birthday.
What did the stupid State-affairs matter? Or had he gone to that
gloomy chapel, where the candles were always burning, and where she
was never allowed to enter? How silly of him, when the sun was
shining so brightly, and everybody was so happy! Besides, he would
miss the sham bull-fight for which the trumpet was already sounding,
to say nothing of the puppet-show and the other wonderful things.
Her uncle and the Grand Inquisitor were much more sensible. They
had come out on the terrace, and paid her nice compliments. So
she tossed her pretty head, and taking Don Pedro by the hand, she walked
slowly down the steps towards a long pavilion of purple silk that had
been erected at the end of the garden, the other children following
in strict order of precedence, those who had the longest names going
first.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>A procession of noble boys, fantastically dressed as <i>toreadors</i>,
came out to meet her, and the young Count of Tierra-Nueva, a wonderfully
handsome lad of about fourteen years of age, uncovering his head with
all the grace of a born hidalgo and grandee of Spain, led her solemnly
in to a little gilt and ivory chair that was placed on a raised dais
above the arena. The children grouped themselves all round, fluttering
their big fans and whispering to each other, and Don Pedro and the Grand
Inquisitor stood laughing at the entrance. Even the Duchess -
the Camerera-Mayor as she was called - a thin, hard-featured woman with
a yellow ruff, did not look quite so bad-tempered as usual, and something
like a chill smile flitted across her wrinkled face and twitched her
thin bloodless lips.</p>
<p>It certainly was a marvellous bull-fight, and much nicer, the Infanta
thought, than the real bull-fight that she had been brought to see at
Seville, on the occasion of the visit of the Duke of Parma to her father.
Some of the boys pranced about on richly-caparisoned hobby-horses brandishing
long javelins with gay streamers of bright ribands attached to them;
others went on foot waving their scarlet cloaks before the bull, and
vaulting lightly over the barrier when he charged them; and as for the
bull himself, he was just like a live bull, though he was only made
of wicker-work and stretched hide, and sometimes insisted on running
round the arena on his hind legs, which no live bull ever dreams of
doing. He made a splendid fight of it too, and the children got
so excited that they stood up upon the benches, and waved their lace
handkerchiefs and cried out: <i>Bravo toro! Bravo</i> <i>toro</i>!
just as sensibly as if they had been grown-up people. At last,
however, after a prolonged combat, during which several of the hobby-horses
were gored through and through, and, their riders dismounted, the young
Count of Tierra-Nueva brought the bull to his knees, and having obtained
permission from the Infanta to give the <i>coup de grâce</i>,
he plunged his wooden sword into the neck of the animal with such violence
that the head came right off, and disclosed the laughing face of little
Monsieur de Lorraine, the son of the French Ambassador at Madrid.</p>
<p>The arena was then cleared amidst much applause, and the dead hobbyhorses
dragged solemnly away by two Moorish pages in yellow and black liveries,
and after a short interlude, during which a French posture-master performed
upon the tightrope, some Italian puppets appeared in the semi-classical
tragedy of <i>Sophonisba</i> on the stage of a small theatre that had
been built up for the purpose. They acted so well, and their gestures
were so extremely natural, that at the close of the play the eyes of
the Infanta were quite dim with tears. Indeed some of the children
really cried, and had to be comforted with sweetmeats, and the Grand
Inquisitor himself was so affected that he could not help saying to
Don Pedro that it seemed to him intolerable that things made simply
out of wood and coloured wax, and worked mechanically by wires, should
be so unhappy and meet with such terrible misfortunes.</p>
<p>An African juggler followed, who brought in a large flat basket covered
with a red cloth, and having placed it in the centre of the arena, he
took from his turban a curious reed pipe, and blew through it.
In a few moments the cloth began to move, and as the pipe grew shriller
and shriller two green and gold snakes put out their strange wedge-shaped
heads and rose slowly up, swaying to and fro with the music as a plant
sways in the water. The children, however, were rather frightened
at their spotted hoods and quick darting tongues, and were much more
pleased when the juggler made a tiny orange-tree grow out of the sand
and bear pretty white blossoms and clusters of real fruit; and when
he took the fan of the little daughter of the Marquess de Las-Torres,
and changed it into a blue bird that flew all round the pavilion and
sang, their delight and amazement knew no bounds. The solemn minuet,
too, performed by the dancing boys from the church of Nuestra Senora
Del Pilar, was charming. The Infanta had never before seen this
wonderful ceremony which takes place every year at Maytime in front
of the high altar of the Virgin, and in her honour; and indeed none
of the royal family of Spain had entered the great cathedral of Saragossa
since a mad priest, supposed by many to have been in the pay of Elizabeth
of England, had tried to administer a poisoned wafer to the Prince of
the Asturias. So she had known only by hearsay of ‘Our Lady’s
Dance,’ as it was called, and it certainly was a beautiful sight.
The boys wore old-fashioned court dresses of white velvet, and their
curious three-cornered hats were fringed with silver and surmounted
with huge plumes of ostrich feathers, the dazzling whiteness of their
costumes, as they moved about in the sunlight, being still more accentuated
by their swarthy faces and long black hair. Everybody was fascinated
by the grave dignity with which they moved through the intricate figures
of the dance, and by the elaborate grace of their slow gestures, and
stately bows, and when they had finished their performance and doffed
their great plumed hats to the Infanta, she acknowledged their reverence
with much courtesy, and made a vow that she would send a large wax candle
to the shrine of Our Lady of Pilar in return for the pleasure that she
had given her.</p>
<p>A troop of handsome Egyptians - as the gipsies were termed in those
days - then advanced into the arena, and sitting down cross-legs, in
a circle, began to play softly upon their zithers, moving their bodies
to the tune, and humming, almost below their breath, a low dreamy air.
When they caught sight of Don Pedro they scowled at him, and some of
them looked terrified, for only a few weeks before he had had two of
their tribe hanged for sorcery in the market-place at Seville, but the
pretty Infanta charmed them as she leaned back peeping over her fan
with her great blue eyes, and they felt sure that one so lovely as she
was could never be cruel to anybody. So they played on very gently
and just touching the cords of the zithers with their long pointed nails,
and their heads began to nod as though they were falling asleep.
Suddenly, with a cry so shrill that all the children were startled and
Don Pedro’s hand clutched at the agate pommel of his dagger, they
leapt to their feet and whirled madly round the enclosure beating their
tambourines, and chaunting some wild love-song in their strange guttural
language. Then at another signal they all flung themselves again
to the ground and lay there quite still, the dull strumming of the zithers
being the only sound that broke the silence. After that they had
done this several times, they disappeared for a moment and came back
leading a brown shaggy bear by a chain, and carrying on their shoulders
some little Barbary apes. The bear stood upon his head with the
utmost gravity, and the wizened apes played all kinds of amusing tricks
with two gipsy boys who seemed to be their masters, and fought with
tiny swords, and fired off guns, and went through a regular soldier’s
drill just like the King’s own bodyguard. In fact the gipsies
were a great success.</p>
<p>But the funniest part of the whole morning’s entertainment,
was undoubtedly the dancing of the little Dwarf. When he stumbled
into the arena, waddling on his crooked legs and wagging his huge misshapen
head from side to side, the children went off into a loud shout of delight,
and the Infanta herself laughed so much that the Camerera was obliged
to remind her that although there were many precedents in Spain for
a King’s daughter weeping before her equals, there were none for
a Princess of the blood royal making so merry before those who were
her inferiors in birth. The Dwarf, however, was really quite irresistible,
and even at the Spanish Court, always noted for its cultivated passion
for the horrible, so fantastic a little monster had never been seen.
It was his first appearance, too. He had been discovered only
the day before, running wild through the forest, by two of the nobles
who happened to have been hunting in a remote part of the great cork-wood
that surrounded the town, and had been carried off by them to the Palace
as a surprise for the Infanta; his father, who was a poor charcoal-burner,
being but too well pleased to get rid of so ugly and useless a child.
Perhaps the most amusing thing about him was his complete unconsciousness
of his own grotesque appearance. Indeed he seemed quite happy
and full of the highest spirits. When the children laughed, he
laughed as freely and as joyously as any of them, and at the close of
each dance he made them each the funniest of bows, smiling and nodding
at them just as if he was really one of themselves, and not a little
misshapen thing that Nature, in some humourous mood, had fashioned for
others to mock at. As for the Infanta, she absolutely fascinated
him. He could not keep his eyes off her, and seemed to dance for
her alone, and when at the close of the performance, remembering how
she had seen the great ladies of the Court throw bouquets to Caffarelli,
the famous Italian treble, whom the Pope had sent from his own chapel
to Madrid that he might cure the King’s melancholy by the sweetness
of his voice, she took out of her hair the beautiful white rose, and
partly for a jest and partly to tease the Camerera, threw it to him
across the arena with her sweetest smile, he took the whole matter quite
seriously, and pressing the flower to his rough coarse lips he put his
hand upon his heart, and sank on one knee before her, grinning from
ear to ear, and with his little bright eyes sparkling with pleasure.</p>
<p>This so upset the gravity of the Infanta that she kept on laughing
long after the little Dwarf had ran out of the arena, and expressed
a desire to her uncle that the dance should be immediately repeated.
The Camerera, however, on the plea that the sun was too hot, decided
that it would be better that her Highness should return without delay
to the Palace, where a wonderful feast had been already prepared for
her, including a real birthday cake with her own initials worked all
over it in painted sugar and a lovely silver flag waving from the top.
The Infanta accordingly rose up with much dignity, and having given
orders that the little dwarf was to dance again for her after the hour
of siesta, and conveyed her thanks to the young Count of Tierra-Nueva
for his charming reception, she went back to her apartments, the children
following in the same order in which they had entered.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Now when the little Dwarf heard that he was to dance a second time
before the Infanta, and by her own express command, he was so proud
that he ran out into the garden, kissing the white rose in an absurd
ecstasy of pleasure, and making the most uncouth and clumsy gestures
of delight.</p>
<p>The Flowers were quite indignant at his daring to intrude into their
beautiful home, and when they saw him capering up and down the walks,
and waving his arms above his head in such a ridiculous manner, they
could not restrain their feelings any longer.</p>
<p>‘He is really far too ugly to be allowed to play in any place
where we are,’ cried the Tulips.</p>
<p>‘He should drink poppy-juice, and go to sleep for a thousand
years,’ said the great scarlet Lilies, and they grew quite hot
and angry.</p>
<p>‘He is a perfect horror!’ screamed the Cactus.
‘Why, he is twisted and stumpy, and his head is completely out
of proportion with his legs. Really he makes me feel prickly all
over, and if he comes near me I will sting him with my thorns.’</p>
<p>‘And he has actually got one of my best blooms,’ exclaimed
the White Rose-Tree. ‘I gave it to the Infanta this morning
myself, as a birthday present, and he has stolen it from her.’
And she called out: ‘Thief, thief, thief!’ at the top of
her voice.</p>
<p>Even the red Geraniums, who did not usually give themselves airs,
and were known to have a great many poor relations themselves, curled
up in disgust when they saw him, and when the Violets meekly remarked
that though he was certainly extremely plain, still he could not help
it, they retorted with a good deal of justice that that was his chief
defect, and that there was no reason why one should admire a person
because he was incurable; and, indeed, some of the Violets themselves
felt that the ugliness of the little Dwarf was almost ostentatious,
and that he would have shown much better taste if he had looked sad,
or at least pensive, instead of jumping about merrily, and throwing
himself into such grotesque and silly attitudes.</p>
<p>As for the old Sundial, who was an extremely remarkable individual,
and had once told the time of day to no less a person than the Emperor
Charles V. himself, he was so taken aback by the little Dwarf’s
appearance, that he almost forgot to mark two whole minutes with his
long shadowy finger, and could not help saying to the great milk-white
Peacock, who was sunning herself on the balustrade, that every one knew
that the children of Kings were Kings, and that the children of charcoal-burners
were charcoal-burners, and that it was absurd to pretend that it wasn’t
so; a statement with which the Peacock entirely agreed, and indeed screamed
out, ‘Certainly, certainly,’ in such a loud, harsh voice,
that the gold-fish who lived in the basin of the cool splashing fountain
put their heads out of the water, and asked the huge stone Tritons what
on earth was the matter.</p>
<p>But somehow the Birds liked him. They had seen him often in
the forest, dancing about like an elf after the eddying leaves, or crouched
up in the hollow of some old oak-tree, sharing his nuts with the squirrels.
They did not mind his being ugly, a bit. Why, even the nightingale
herself, who sang so sweetly in the orange groves at night that sometimes
the Moon leaned down to listen, was not much to look at after all; and,
besides, he had been kind to them, and during that terribly bitter winter,
when there were no berries on the trees, and the ground was as hard
as iron, and the wolves had come down to the very gates of the city
to look for food, he had never once forgotten them, but had always given
them crumbs out of his little hunch of black bread, and divided with
them whatever poor breakfast he had.</p>
<p>So they flew round and round him, just touching his cheek with their
wings as they passed, and chattered to each other, and the little Dwarf
was so pleased that he could not help showing them the beautiful white
rose, and telling them that the Infanta herself had given it to him
because she loved him.</p>
<p>They did not understand a single word of what he was saying, but
that made no matter, for they put their heads on one side, and looked
wise, which is quite as good as understanding a thing, and very much
easier.</p>
<p>The Lizards also took an immense fancy to him, and when he grew tired
of running about and flung himself down on the grass to rest, they played
and romped all over him, and tried to amuse him in the best way they
could. ‘Every one cannot be as beautiful as a lizard,’
they cried; ‘that would be too much to expect. And, though
it sounds absurd to say so, he is really not so ugly after all, provided,
of course, that one shuts one’s eyes, and does not look at him.’
The Lizards were extremely philosophical by nature, and often sat thinking
for hours and hours together, when there was nothing else to do, or
when the weather was too rainy for them to go out.</p>
<p>The Flowers, however, were excessively annoyed at their behaviour,
and at the behaviour of the birds. ‘It only shows,’
they said, ‘what a vulgarising effect this incessant rushing and
flying about has. Well-bred people always stay exactly in the
same place, as we do. No one ever saw us hopping up and down the
walks, or galloping madly through the grass after dragon-flies.
When we do want change of air, we send for the gardener, and he carries
us to another bed. This is dignified, and as it should be.
But birds and lizards have no sense of repose, and indeed birds have
not even a permanent address. They are mere vagrants like the
gipsies, and should be treated in exactly the same manner.’
So they put their noses in the air, and looked very haughty, and were
quite delighted when after some time they saw the little Dwarf scramble
up from the grass, and make his way across the terrace to the palace.</p>
<p>‘He should certainly be kept indoors for the rest of his natural
life,’ they said. ‘Look at his hunched back, and his
crooked legs,’ and they began to titter.</p>
<p>But the little Dwarf knew nothing of all this. He liked the
birds and the lizards immensely, and thought that the flowers were the
most marvellous things in the whole world, except of course the Infanta,
but then she had given him the beautiful white rose, and she loved him,
and that made a great difference. How he wished that he had gone
back with her! She would have put him on her right hand, and smiled
at him, and he would have never left her side, but would have made her
his playmate, and taught her all kinds of delightful tricks. For
though he had never been in a palace before, he knew a great many wonderful
things. He could make little cages out of rushes for the grasshoppers
to sing in, and fashion the long jointed bamboo into the pipe that Pan
loves to hear. He knew the cry of every bird, and could call the
starlings from the tree-top, or the heron from the mere. He knew
the trail of every animal, and could track the hare by its delicate
footprints, and the boar by the trampled leaves. All the wild-dances
he knew, the mad dance in red raiment with the autumn, the light dance
in blue sandals over the corn, the dance with white snow-wreaths in
winter, and the blossom-dance through the orchards in spring.
He knew where the wood-pigeons built their nests, and once when a fowler
had snared the parent birds, he had brought up the young ones himself,
and had built a little dovecot for them in the cleft of a pollard elm.
They were quite tame, and used to feed out of his hands every morning.
She would like them, and the rabbits that scurried about in the long
fern, and the jays with their steely feathers and black bills, and the
hedgehogs that could curl themselves up into prickly balls, and the
great wise tortoises that crawled slowly about, shaking their heads
and nibbling at the young leaves. Yes, she must certainly come
to the forest and play with him. He would give her his own little
bed, and would watch outside the window till dawn, to see that the wild
horned cattle did not harm her, nor the gaunt wolves creep too near
the hut. And at dawn he would tap at the shutters and wake her,
and they would go out and dance together all the day long. It
was really not a bit lonely in the forest. Sometimes a Bishop
rode through on his white mule, reading out of a painted book.
Sometimes in their green velvet caps, and their jerkins of tanned deerskin,
the falconers passed by, with hooded hawks on their wrists. At
vintage-time came the grape-treaders, with purple hands and feet, wreathed
with glossy ivy and carrying dripping skins of wine; and the charcoal-burners
sat round their huge braziers at night, watching the dry logs charring
slowly in the fire, and roasting chestnuts in the ashes, and the robbers
came out of their caves and made merry with them. Once, too, he
had seen a beautiful procession winding up the long dusty road to Toledo.
The monks went in front singing sweetly, and carrying bright banners
and crosses of gold, and then, in silver armour, with matchlocks and
pikes, came the soldiers, and in their midst walked three barefooted
men, in strange yellow dresses painted all over with wonderful figures,
and carrying lighted candles in their hands. Certainly there was
a great deal to look at in the forest, and when she was tired he would
find a soft bank of moss for her, or carry her in his arms, for he was
very strong, though he knew that he was not tall. He would make
her a necklace of red bryony berries, that would be quite as pretty
as the white berries that she wore on her dress, and when she was tired
of them, she could throw them away, and he would find her others.
He would bring her acorn-cups and dew-drenched anemones, and tiny glow-worms
to be stars in the pale gold of her hair.</p>
<p>But where was she? He asked the white rose, and it made him
no answer. The whole palace seemed asleep, and even where the
shutters had not been closed, heavy curtains had been drawn across the
windows to keep out the glare. He wandered all round looking for
some place through which he might gain an entrance, and at last he caught
sight of a little private door that was lying open. He slipped
through, and found himself in a splendid hall, far more splendid, he
feared, than the forest, there was so much more gilding everywhere,
and even the floor was made of great coloured stones, fitted together
into a sort of geometrical pattern. But the little Infanta was
not there, only some wonderful white statues that looked down on him
from their jasper pedestals, with sad blank eyes and strangely smiling
lips.</p>
<p>At the end of the hall hung a richly embroidered curtain of black
velvet, powdered with suns and stars, the King’s favourite devices,
and broidered on the colour he loved best. Perhaps she was hiding
behind that? He would try at any rate.</p>
<p>So he stole quietly across, and drew it aside. No; there was
only another room, though a prettier room, he thought, than the one
he had just left. The walls were hung with a many-figured green
arras of needle-wrought tapestry representing a hunt, the work of some
Flemish artists who had spent more than seven years in its composition.
It had once been the chamber of <i>Jean le Fou</i>, as he was called,
that mad King who was so enamoured of the chase, that he had often tried
in his delirium to mount the huge rearing horses, and to drag down the
stag on which the great hounds were leaping, sounding his hunting horn,
and stabbing with his dagger at the pale flying deer. It was now
used as the council-room, and on the centre table were lying the red
portfolios of the ministers, stamped with the gold tulips of Spain,
and with the arms and emblems of the house of Hapsburg.</p>
<p>The little Dwarf looked in wonder all round him, and was half-afraid
to go on. The strange silent horsemen that galloped so swiftly
through the long glades without making any noise, seemed to him like
those terrible phantoms of whom he had heard the charcoal-burners speaking
- the Comprachos, who hunt only at night, and if they meet a man, turn
him into a hind, and chase him. But he thought of the pretty Infanta,
and took courage. He wanted to find her alone, and to tell her
that he too loved her. Perhaps she was in the room beyond.</p>
<p>He ran across the soft Moorish carpets, and opened the door.
No! She was not here either. The room was quite empty.</p>
<p>It was a throne-room, used for the reception of foreign ambassadors,
when the King, which of late had not been often, consented to give them
a personal audience; the same room in which, many years before, envoys
had appeared from England to make arrangements for the marriage of their
Queen, then one of the Catholic sovereigns of Europe, with the Emperor’s
eldest son. The hangings were of gilt Cordovan leather, and a
heavy gilt chandelier with branches for three hundred wax lights hung
down from the black and white ceiling. Underneath a great canopy
of gold cloth, on which the lions and towers of Castile were broidered
in seed pearls, stood the throne itself, covered with a rich pall of
black velvet studded with silver tulips and elaborately fringed with
silver and pearls. On the second step of the throne was placed
the kneeling-stool of the Infanta, with its cushion of cloth of silver
tissue, and below that again, and beyond the limit of the canopy, stood
the chair for the Papal Nuncio, who alone had the right to be seated
in the King’s presence on the occasion of any public ceremonial,
and whose Cardinal’s hat, with its tangled scarlet tassels, lay
on a purple <i>tabouret</i> in front. On the wall, facing the
throne, hung a life-sized portrait of Charles V. in hunting dress, with
a great mastiff by his side, and a picture of Philip II. receiving the
homage of the Netherlands occupied the centre of the other wall.
Between the windows stood a black ebony cabinet, inlaid with plates
of ivory, on which the figures from Holbein’s Dance of Death had
been graved - by the hand, some said, of that famous master himself.</p>
<p>But the little Dwarf cared nothing for all this magnificence.
He would not have given his rose for all the pearls on the canopy, nor
one white petal of his rose for the throne itself. What he wanted
was to see the Infanta before she went down to the pavilion, and to
ask her to come away with him when he had finished his dance.
Here, in the Palace, the air was close and heavy, but in the forest
the wind blew free, and the sunlight with wandering hands of gold moved
the tremulous leaves aside. There were flowers, too, in the forest,
not so splendid, perhaps, as the flowers in the garden, but more sweetly
scented for all that; hyacinths in early spring that flooded with waving
purple the cool glens, and grassy knolls; yellow primroses that nestled
in little clumps round the gnarled roots of the oak-trees; bright celandine,
and blue speedwell, and irises lilac and gold. There were grey
catkins on the hazels, and the foxgloves drooped with the weight of
their dappled bee-haunted cells. The chestnut had its spires of
white stars, and the hawthorn its pallid moons of beauty. Yes:
surely she would come if he could only find her! She would come
with him to the fair forest, and all day long he would dance for her
delight. A smile lit up his eyes at the thought, and he passed
into the next room.</p>
<p>Of all the rooms this was the brightest and the most beautiful.
The walls were covered with a pink-flowered Lucca damask, patterned
with birds and dotted with dainty blossoms of silver; the furniture
was of massive silver, festooned with florid wreaths, and swinging Cupids;
in front of the two large fire-places stood great screens broidered
with parrots and peacocks, and the floor, which was of sea-green onyx,
seemed to stretch far away into the distance. Nor was he alone.
Standing under the shadow of the doorway, at the extreme end of the
room, he saw a little figure watching him. His heart trembled,
a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he moved out into the sunlight.
As he did so, the figure moved out also, and he saw it plainly.</p>
<p>The Infanta! It was a monster, the most grotesque monster he
had ever beheld. Not properly shaped, as all other people were,
but hunchbacked, and crooked-limbed, with huge lolling head and mane
of black hair. The little Dwarf frowned, and the monster frowned
also. He laughed, and it laughed with him, and held its hands
to its sides, just as he himself was doing. He made it a mocking
bow, and it returned him a low reverence. He went towards it,
and it came to meet him, copying each step that he made, and stopping
when he stopped himself. He shouted with amusement, and ran forward,
and reached out his hand, and the hand of the monster touched his, and
it was as cold as ice. He grew afraid, and moved his hand across,
and the monster’s hand followed it quickly. He tried to
press on, but something smooth and hard stopped him. The face
of the monster was now close to his own, and seemed full of terror.
He brushed his hair off his eyes. It imitated him. He struck
at it, and it returned blow for blow. He loathed it, and it made
hideous faces at him. He drew back, and it retreated.</p>
<p>What is it? He thought for a moment, and looked round at the
rest of the room. It was strange, but everything seemed to have
its double in this invisible wall of clear water. Yes, picture
for picture was repeated, and couch for couch. The sleeping Faun
that lay in the alcove by the doorway had its twin brother that slumbered,
and the silver Venus that stood in the sunlight held out her arms to
a Venus as lovely as herself.</p>
<p>Was it Echo? He had called to her once in the valley, and she
had answered him word for word. Could she mock the eye, as she
mocked the voice? Could she make a mimic world just like the real
world? Could the shadows of things have colour and life and movement?
Could it be that - ?</p>
<p>He started, and taking from his breast the beautiful white rose,
he turned round, and kissed it. The monster had a rose of its
own, petal for petal the same! It kissed it with like kisses,
and pressed it to its heart with horrible gestures.</p>
<p>When the truth dawned upon him, he gave a wild cry of despair, and
fell sobbing to the ground. So it was he who was misshapen and
hunchbacked, foul to look at and grotesque. He himself was the
monster, and it was at him that all the children had been laughing,
and the little Princess who he had thought loved him - she too had been
merely mocking at his ugliness, and making merry over his twisted limbs.
Why had they not left him in the forest, where there was no mirror to
tell him how loathsome he was? Why had his father not killed him,
rather than sell him to his shame? The hot tears poured down his
cheeks, and he tore the white rose to pieces. The sprawling monster
did the same, and scattered the faint petals in the air. It grovelled
on the ground, and, when he looked at it, it watched him with a face
drawn with pain. He crept away, lest he should see it, and covered
his eyes with his hands. He crawled, like some wounded thing,
into the shadow, and lay there moaning.</p>
<p>And at that moment the Infanta herself came in with her companions
through the open window, and when they saw the ugly little dwarf lying
on the ground and beating the floor with his clenched hands, in the
most fantastic and exaggerated manner, they went off into shouts of
happy laughter, and stood all round him and watched him.</p>
<p>‘His dancing was funny,’ said the Infanta; ‘but
his acting is funnier still. Indeed he is almost as good as the
puppets, only of course not quite so natural.’ And she fluttered
her big fan, and applauded.</p>
<p>But the little Dwarf never looked up, and his sobs grew fainter and
fainter, and suddenly he gave a curious gasp, and clutched his side.
And then he fell back again, and lay quite still.</p>
<p>‘That is capital,’ said the Infanta, after a pause; ‘but
now you must dance for me.’</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ cried all the children, ‘you must get up
and dance, for you are as clever as the Barbary apes, and much more
ridiculous.’ But the little Dwarf made no answer.</p>
<p>And the Infanta stamped her foot, and called out to her uncle, who
was walking on the terrace with the Chamberlain, reading some despatches
that had just arrived from Mexico, where the Holy Office had recently
been established. ‘My funny little dwarf is sulking,’
she cried, ‘you must wake him up, and tell him to dance for me.’</p>
<p>They smiled at each other, and sauntered in, and Don Pedro stooped
down, and slapped the Dwarf on the cheek with his embroidered glove.
‘You must dance,’ he said, <i>‘petit monsire</i>.
You must dance. The Infanta of Spain and the Indies wishes to
be amused.’</p>
<p>But the little Dwarf never moved.</p>
<p>‘A whipping master should be sent for,’ said Don Pedro
wearily, and he went back to the terrace. But the Chamberlain
looked grave, and he knelt beside the little dwarf, and put his hand
upon his heart. And after a few moments he shrugged his shoulders,
and rose up, and having made a low bow to the Infanta, he said -</p>
<p><i>‘Mi bella Princesa</i>, your funny little dwarf will never
dance again. It is a pity, for he is so ugly that he might have
made the King smile.’</p>
<p>‘But why will he not dance again?’ asked the Infanta,
laughing.</p>
<p>‘Because his heart is broken,’ answered the Chamberlain.</p>
<p>And the Infanta frowned, and her dainty rose-leaf lips curled in
pretty disdain. ‘For the future let those who come to play
with me have no hearts,’ she cried, and she ran out into the garden.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<h2>THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL</h2>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<p>[TO H.S.H. ALICE, PRINCESS OF MONACO]</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Every evening the young Fisherman went out upon the sea, and threw
his nets into the water.</p>
<p>When the wind blew from the land he caught nothing, or but little
at best, for it was a bitter and black-winged wind, and rough waves
rose up to meet it. But when the wind blew to the shore, the fish
came in from the deep, and swam into the meshes of his nets, and he
took them to the market-place and sold them.</p>
<p>Every evening he went out upon the sea, and one evening the net was
so heavy that hardly could he draw it into the boat. And he laughed,
and said to himself, ‘Surely I have caught all the fish that swim,
or snared some dull monster that will be a marvel to men, or some thing
of horror that the great Queen will desire,’ and putting forth
all his strength, he tugged at the coarse ropes till, like lines of
blue enamel round a vase of bronze, the long veins rose up on his arms.
He tugged at the thin ropes, and nearer and nearer came the circle of
flat corks, and the net rose at last to the top of the water.</p>
<p>But no fish at all was in it, nor any monster or thing of horror,
but only a little Mermaid lying fast asleep.</p>
<p>Her hair was as a wet fleece of gold, and each separate hair as a
thread of fine gold in a cup of glass. Her body was as white ivory,
and her tail was of silver and pearl. Silver and pearl was her
tail, and the green weeds of the sea coiled round it; and like sea-shells
were her ears, and her lips were like sea-coral. The cold waves
dashed over her cold breasts, and the salt glistened upon her eyelids.</p>
<p>So beautiful was she that when the young Fisherman saw her he was
filled with wonder, and he put out his hand and drew the net close to
him, and leaning over the side he clasped her in his arms. And
when he touched her, she gave a cry like a startled sea-gull, and woke,
and looked at him in terror with her mauve-amethyst eyes, and struggled
that she might escape. But he held her tightly to him, and would
not suffer her to depart.</p>
<p>And when she saw that she could in no way escape from him, she began
to weep, and said, ‘I pray thee let me go, for I am the only daughter
of a King, and my father is aged and alone.’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman answered, ‘I will not let thee go save
thou makest me a promise that whenever I call thee, thou wilt come and
sing to me, for the fish delight to listen to the song of the Sea-folk,
and so shall my nets be full.’</p>
<p>‘Wilt thou in very truth let me go, if I promise thee this?’
cried the Mermaid.</p>
<p>‘In very truth I will let thee go,’ said the young Fisherman.</p>
<p>So she made him the promise he desired, and sware it by the oath
of the Sea-folk. And he loosened his arms from about her, and
she sank down into the water, trembling with a strange fear.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Every evening the young Fisherman went out upon the sea, and called
to the Mermaid, and she rose out of the water and sang to him.
Round and round her swam the dolphins, and the wild gulls wheeled above
her head.</p>
<p>And she sang a marvellous song. For she sang of the Sea-folk
who drive their flocks from cave to cave, and carry the little calves
on their shoulders; of the Tritons who have long green beards, and hairy
breasts, and blow through twisted conchs when the King passes by; of
the palace of the King which is all of amber, with a roof of clear emerald,
and a pavement of bright pearl; and of the gardens of the sea where
the great filigrane fans of coral wave all day long, and the fish dart
about like silver birds, and the anemones cling to the rocks, and the
pinks bourgeon in the ribbed yellow sand. She sang of the big
whales that come down from the north seas and have sharp icicles hanging
to their fins; of the Sirens who tell of such wonderful things that
the merchants have to stop their ears with wax lest they should hear
them, and leap into the water and be drowned; of the sunken galleys
with their tall masts, and the frozen sailors clinging to the rigging,
and the mackerel swimming in and out of the open portholes; of the little
barnacles who are great travellers, and cling to the keels of the ships
and go round and round the world; and of the cuttlefish who live in
the sides of the cliffs and stretch out their long black arms, and can
make night come when they will it. She sang of the nautilus who
has a boat of her own that is carved out of an opal and steered with
a silken sail; of the happy Mermen who play upon harps and can charm
the great Kraken to sleep; of the little children who catch hold of
the slippery porpoises and ride laughing upon their backs; of the Mermaids
who lie in the white foam and hold out their arms to the mariners; and
of the sea-lions with their curved tusks, and the sea-horses with their
floating manes.</p>
<p>And as she sang, all the tunny-fish came in from the deep to listen
to her, and the young Fisherman threw his nets round them and caught
them, and others he took with a spear. And when his boat was well-laden,
the Mermaid would sink down into the sea, smiling at him.</p>
<p>Yet would she never come near him that he might touch her.
Oftentimes he called to her and prayed of her, but she would not; and
when he sought to seize her she dived into the water as a seal might
dive, nor did he see her again that day. And each day the sound
of her voice became sweeter to his ears. So sweet was her voice
that he forgot his nets and his cunning, and had no care of his craft.
Vermilion-finned and with eyes of bossy gold, the tunnies went by in
shoals, but he heeded them not. His spear lay by his side unused,
and his baskets of plaited osier were empty. With lips parted,
and eyes dim with wonder, he sat idle in his boat and listened, listening
till the sea-mists crept round him, and the wandering moon stained his
brown limbs with silver.</p>
<p>And one evening he called to her, and said: ‘Little Mermaid,
little Mermaid, I love thee. Take me for thy bridegroom, for I
love thee.’</p>
<p>But the Mermaid shook her head. ‘Thou hast a human soul,’
she answered. ‘If only thou wouldst send away thy soul,
then could I love thee.’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman said to himself, ‘Of what use is my
soul to me? I cannot see it. I may not touch it. I
do not know it. Surely I will send it away from me, and much gladness
shall be mine.’ And a cry of joy broke from his lips, and
standing up in the painted boat, he held out his arms to the Mermaid.
‘I will send my soul away,’ he cried, ‘and you shall
be my bride, and I will be thy bridegroom, and in the depth of the sea
we will dwell together, and all that thou hast sung of thou shalt show
me, and all that thou desirest I will do, nor shall our lives be divided.’</p>
<p>And the little Mermaid laughed for pleasure and hid her face in her
hands.</p>
<p>‘But how shall I send my soul from me?’ cried the young
Fisherman. ‘Tell me how I may do it, and lo! it shall be
done.’</p>
<p>‘Alas! I know not,’ said the little Mermaid: ‘the
Sea-folk have no souls.’ And she sank down into the deep,
looking wistfully at him.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Now early on the next morning, before the sun was the span of a man’s
hand above the hill, the young Fisherman went to the house of the Priest
and knocked three times at the door.</p>
<p>The novice looked out through the wicket, and when he saw who it
was, he drew back the latch and said to him, ‘Enter.’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman passed in, and knelt down on the sweet-smelling
rushes of the floor, and cried to the Priest who was reading out of
the Holy Book and said to him, ‘Father, I am in love with one
of the Sea-folk, and my soul hindereth me from having my desire.
Tell me how I can send my soul away from me, for in truth I have no
need of it. Of what value is my soul to me? I cannot see
it. I may not touch it. I do not know it.’</p>
<p>And the Priest beat his breast, and answered, ‘Alack, alack,
thou art mad, or hast eaten of some poisonous herb, for the soul is
the noblest part of man, and was given to us by God that we should nobly
use it. There is no thing more precious than a human soul, nor
any earthly thing that can be weighed with it. It is worth all
the gold that is in the world, and is more precious than the rubies
of the kings. Therefore, my son, think not any more of this matter,
for it is a sin that may not be forgiven. And as for the Sea-folk,
they are lost, and they who would traffic with them are lost also.
They are as the beasts of the field that know not good from evil, and
for them the Lord has not died.’</p>
<p>The young Fisherman’s eyes filled with tears when he heard
the bitter words of the Priest, and he rose up from his knees and said
to him, ‘Father, the Fauns live in the forest and are glad, and
on the rocks sit the Mermen with their harps of red gold. Let
me be as they are, I beseech thee, for their days are as the days of
flowers. And as for my soul, what doth my soul profit me, if it
stand between me and the thing that I love?’</p>
<p>‘The love of the body is vile,’ cried the Priest, knitting
his brows, ‘and vile and evil are the pagan things God suffers
to wander through His world. Accursed be the Fauns of the woodland,
and accursed be the singers of the sea! I have heard them at night-time,
and they have sought to lure me from my beads. They tap at the
window, and laugh. They whisper into my ears the tale of their
perilous joys. They tempt me with temptations, and when I would
pray they make mouths at me. They are lost, I tell thee, they
are lost. For them there is no heaven nor hell, and in neither
shall they praise God’s name.’</p>
<p>‘Father,’ cried the young Fisherman, ‘thou knowest
not what thou sayest. Once in my net I snared the daughter of
a King. She is fairer than the morning star, and whiter than the
moon. For her body I would give my soul, and for her love I would
surrender heaven. Tell me what I ask of thee, and let me go in
peace.’</p>
<p>‘Away! Away!’ cried the Priest: ‘thy leman
is lost, and thou shalt be lost with her.’</p>
<p>And he gave him no blessing, but drove him from his door.</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman went down into the market-place, and he walked
slowly, and with bowed head, as one who is in sorrow.</p>
<p>And when the merchants saw him coming, they began to whisper to each
other, and one of them came forth to meet him, and called him by name,
and said to him, ‘What hast thou to sell?’</p>
<p>‘I will sell thee my soul,’ he answered. ‘I
pray thee buy it of me, for I am weary of it. Of what use is my
soul to me? I cannot see it. I may not touch it. I
do not know it.’</p>
<p>But the merchants mocked at him, and said, ‘Of what use is
a man’s soul to us? It is not worth a clipped piece of silver.
Sell us thy body for a slave, and we will clothe thee in sea-purple,
and put a ring upon thy finger, and make thee the minion of the great
Queen. But talk not of the soul, for to us it is nought, nor has
it any value for our service.’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman said to himself: ‘How strange a thing
this is! The Priest telleth me that the soul is worth all the
gold in the world, and the merchants say that it is not worth a clipped
piece of silver.’ And he passed out of the market-place,
and went down to the shore of the sea, and began to ponder on what he
should do.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And at noon he remembered how one of his companions, who was a gatherer
of samphire, had told him of a certain young Witch who dwelt in a cave
at the head of the bay and was very cunning in her witcheries.
And he set to and ran, so eager was he to get rid of his soul, and a
cloud of dust followed him as he sped round the sand of the shore.
By the itching of her palm the young Witch knew his coming, and she
laughed and let down her red hair. With her red hair falling around
her, she stood at the opening of the cave, and in her hand she had a
spray of wild hemlock that was blossoming.</p>
<p>‘What d’ye lack? What d’ye lack?’ she
cried, as he came panting up the steep, and bent down before her.
‘Fish for thy net, when the wind is foul? I have a little
reed-pipe, and when I blow on it the mullet come sailing into the bay.
But it has a price, pretty boy, it has a price. What d’ye
lack? What d’ye lack? A storm to wreck the ships,
and wash the chests of rich treasure ashore? I have more storms
than the wind has, for I serve one who is stronger than the wind, and
with a sieve and a pail of water I can send the great galleys to the
bottom of the sea. But I have a price, pretty boy, I have a price.
What d’ye lack? What d’ye lack? I know a flower
that grows in the valley, none knows it but I. It has purple leaves,
and a star in its heart, and its juice is as white as milk. Shouldst
thou touch with this flower the hard lips of the Queen, she would follow
thee all over the world. Out of the bed of the King she would
rise, and over the whole world she would follow thee. And it has
a price, pretty boy, it has a price. What d’ye lack?
What d’ye lack? I can pound a toad in a mortar, and make
broth of it, and stir the broth with a dead man’s hand.
Sprinkle it on thine enemy while he sleeps, and he will turn into a
black viper, and his own mother will slay him. With a wheel I
can draw the Moon from heaven, and in a crystal I can show thee Death.
What d’ye lack? What d’ye lack? Tell me thy
desire, and I will give it thee, and thou shalt pay me a price, pretty
boy, thou shalt pay me a price.’</p>
<p>‘My desire is but for a little thing,’ said the young
Fisherman, ‘yet hath the Priest been wroth with me, and driven
me forth. It is but for a little thing, and the merchants have
mocked at me, and denied me. Therefore am I come to thee, though
men call thee evil, and whatever be thy price I shall pay it.’</p>
<p>‘What wouldst thou?’ asked the Witch, coming near to
him.</p>
<p>‘I would send my soul away from me,’ answered the young
Fisherman.</p>
<p>The Witch grew pale, and shuddered, and hid her face in her blue
mantle. ‘Pretty boy, pretty boy,’ she muttered, ‘that
is a terrible thing to do.’</p>
<p>He tossed his brown curls and laughed. ‘My soul is nought
to me,’ he answered. ‘I cannot see it. I may
not touch it. I do not know it.’</p>
<p>‘What wilt thou give me if I tell thee?’ asked the Witch,
looking down at him with her beautiful eyes.</p>
<p>‘Five pieces of gold,’ he said, ‘and my nets, and
the wattled house where I live, and the painted boat in which I sail.
Only tell me how to get rid of my soul, and I will give thee all that
I possess.’</p>
<p>She laughed mockingly at him, and struck him with the spray of hemlock.
‘I can turn the autumn leaves into gold,’ she answered,
‘and I can weave the pale moonbeams into silver if I will it.
He whom I serve is richer than all the kings of this world, and has
their dominions.’</p>
<p>‘What then shall I give thee,’ he cried, ‘if thy
price be neither gold nor silver?’</p>
<p>The Witch stroked his hair with her thin white hand. ‘Thou
must dance with me, pretty boy,’ she murmured, and she smiled
at him as she spoke.</p>
<p>‘Nought but that?’ cried the young Fisherman in wonder
and he rose to his feet.</p>
<p>‘Nought but that,’ she answered, and she smiled at him
again.</p>
<p>‘Then at sunset in some secret place we shall dance together,’
he said, ‘and after that we have danced thou shalt tell me the
thing which I desire to know.’</p>
<p>She shook her head. ‘When the moon is full, when the
moon is full,’ she muttered. Then she peered all round,
and listened. A blue bird rose screaming from its nest and circled
over the dunes, and three spotted birds rustled through the coarse grey
grass and whistled to each other. There was no other sound save
the sound of a wave fretting the smooth pebbles below. So she
reached out her hand, and drew him near to her and put her dry lips
close to his ear.</p>
<p>‘To-night thou must come to the top of the mountain,’
she whispered. ‘It is a Sabbath, and He will be there.’</p>
<p>The young Fisherman started and looked at her, and she showed her
white teeth and laughed. ‘Who is He of whom thou speakest?’
he asked.</p>
<p>‘It matters not,’ she answered. ‘Go thou
to-night, and stand under the branches of the hornbeam, and wait for
my coming. If a black dog run towards thee, strike it with a rod
of willow, and it will go away. If an owl speak to thee, make
it no answer. When the moon is full I shall be with thee, and
we will dance together on the grass.’</p>
<p>‘But wilt thou swear to me to tell me how I may send my soul
from me?’ he made question.</p>
<p>She moved out into the sunlight, and through her red hair rippled
the wind. ‘By the hoofs of the goat I swear it,’ she
made answer.</p>
<p>‘Thou art the best of the witches,’ cried the young Fisherman,
‘and I will surely dance with thee to-night on the top of the
mountain. I would indeed that thou hadst asked of me either gold
or silver. But such as thy price is thou shalt have it, for it
is but a little thing.’ And he doffed his cap to her, and
bent his head low, and ran back to the town filled with a great joy.</p>
<p>And the Witch watched him as he went, and when he had passed from
her sight she entered her cave, and having taken a mirror from a box
of carved cedarwood, she set it up on a frame, and burned vervain on
lighted charcoal before it, and peered through the coils of the smoke.
And after a time she clenched her hands in anger. ‘He should
have been mine,’ she muttered, ‘I am as fair as she is.’</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And that evening, when the moon had risen, the young Fisherman climbed
up to the top of the mountain, and stood under the branches of the hornbeam.
Like a targe of polished metal the round sea lay at his feet, and the
shadows of the fishing-boats moved in the little bay. A great
owl, with yellow sulphurous eyes, called to him by his name, but he
made it no answer. A black dog ran towards him and snarled.
He struck it with a rod of willow, and it went away whining.</p>
<p>At midnight the witches came flying through the air like bats.
‘Phew!’ they cried, as they lit upon the ground, ‘there
is some one here we know not!’ and they sniffed about, and chattered
to each other, and made signs. Last of all came the young Witch,
with her red hair streaming in the wind. She wore a dress of gold
tissue embroidered with peacocks’ eyes, and a little cap of green
velvet was on her head.</p>
<p>‘Where is he, where is he?’ shrieked the witches when
they saw her, but she only laughed, and ran to the hornbeam, and taking
the Fisherman by the hand she led him out into the moonlight and began
to dance.</p>
<p>Round and round they whirled, and the young Witch jumped so high
that he could see the scarlet heels of her shoes. Then right across
the dancers came the sound of the galloping of a horse, but no horse
was to be seen, and he felt afraid.</p>
<p>‘Faster,’ cried the Witch, and she threw her arms about
his neck, and her breath was hot upon his face. ‘Faster,
faster!’ she cried, and the earth seemed to spin beneath his feet,
and his brain grew troubled, and a great terror fell on him, as of some
evil thing that was watching him, and at last he became aware that under
the shadow of a rock there was a figure that had not been there before.</p>
<p>It was a man dressed in a suit of black velvet, cut in the Spanish
fashion. His face was strangely pale, but his lips were like a
proud red flower. He seemed weary, and was leaning back toying
in a listless manner with the pommel of his dagger. On the grass
beside him lay a plumed hat, and a pair of riding-gloves gauntleted
with gilt lace, and sewn with seed-pearls wrought into a curious device.
A short cloak lined with sables hang from his shoulder, and his delicate
white hands were gemmed with rings. Heavy eyelids drooped over
his eyes.</p>
<p>The young Fisherman watched him, as one snared in a spell.
At last their eyes met, and wherever he danced it seemed to him that
the eyes of the man were upon him. He heard the Witch laugh, and
caught her by the waist, and whirled her madly round and round.</p>
<p>Suddenly a dog bayed in the wood, and the dancers stopped, and going
up two by two, knelt down, and kissed the man’s hands. As
they did so, a little smile touched his proud lips, as a bird’s
wing touches the water and makes it laugh. But there was disdain
in it. He kept looking at the young Fisherman.</p>
<p>‘Come! let us worship,’ whispered the Witch, and she
led him up, and a great desire to do as she besought him seized on him,
and he followed her. But when he came close, and without knowing
why he did it, he made on his breast the sign of the Cross, and called
upon the holy name.</p>
<p>No sooner had he done so than the witches screamed like hawks and
flew away, and the pallid face that had been watching him twitched with
a spasm of pain. The man went over to a little wood, and whistled.
A jennet with silver trappings came running to meet him. As he
leapt upon the saddle he turned round, and looked at the young Fisherman
sadly.</p>
<p>And the Witch with the red hair tried to fly away also, but the Fisherman
caught her by her wrists, and held her fast.</p>
<p>‘Loose me,’ she cried, ‘and let me go. For
thou hast named what should not be named, and shown the sign that may
not be looked at.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ he answered, ‘but I will not let thee go
till thou hast told me the secret.’</p>
<p>‘What secret?’ said the Witch, wrestling with him like
a wild cat, and biting her foam-flecked lips.</p>
<p>‘Thou knowest,’ he made answer.</p>
<p>Her grass-green eyes grew dim with tears, and she said to the Fisherman,
‘Ask me anything but that!’</p>
<p>He laughed, and held her all the more tightly.</p>
<p>And when she saw that she could not free herself, she whispered to
him, ‘Surely I am as fair as the daughters of the sea, and as
comely as those that dwell in the blue waters,’ and she fawned
on him and put her face close to his.</p>
<p>But he thrust her back frowning, and said to her, ‘If thou
keepest not the promise that thou madest to me I will slay thee for
a false witch.’</p>
<p> She grew grey as a blossom of the Judas tree, and shuddered.
‘Be it so,’ she muttered. ‘It is thy soul and
not mine. Do with it as thou wilt.’ And she took from
her girdle a little knife that had a handle of green viper’s skin,
and gave it to him.</p>
<p>‘What shall this serve me?’ he asked of her, wondering.</p>
<p>She was silent for a few moments, and a look of terror came over
her face. Then she brushed her hair back from her forehead, and
smiling strangely she said to him, ‘What men call the shadow of
the body is not the shadow of the body, but is the body of the soul.
Stand on the sea-shore with thy back to the moon, and cut away from
around thy feet thy shadow, which is thy soul’s body, and bid
thy soul leave thee, and it will do so.’</p>
<p>The young Fisherman trembled. ‘Is this true?’ he
murmured.</p>
<p>‘It is true, and I would that I had not told thee of it,’
she cried, and she clung to his knees weeping.</p>
<p>He put her from him and left her in the rank grass, and going to
the edge of the mountain he placed the knife in his belt and began to
climb down.</p>
<p>And his Soul that was within him called out to him and said, ‘Lo!
I have dwelt with thee for all these years, and have been thy servant.
Send me not away from thee now, for what evil have I done thee?’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman laughed. ‘Thou hast done me no
evil, but I have no need of thee,’ he answered. ‘The
world is wide, and there is Heaven also, and Hell, and that dim twilight
house that lies between. Go wherever thou wilt, but trouble me
not, for my love is calling to me.’</p>
<p>And his Soul besought him piteously, but he heeded it not, but leapt
from crag to crag, being sure-footed as a wild goat, and at last he
reached the level ground and the yellow shore of the sea.</p>
<p>Bronze-limbed and well-knit, like a statue wrought by a Grecian,
he stood on the sand with his back to the moon, and out of the foam
came white arms that beckoned to him, and out of the waves rose dim
forms that did him homage. Before him lay his shadow, which was
the body of his soul, and behind him hung the moon in the honey-coloured
air.</p>
<p>And his Soul said to him, ‘If indeed thou must drive me from
thee, send me not forth without a heart. The world is cruel, give
me thy heart to take with me.’</p>
<p>He tossed his head and smiled. ‘With what should I love
my love if I gave thee my heart?’ he cried.</p>
<p>‘Nay, but be merciful,’ said his Soul: ‘give me
thy heart, for the world is very cruel, and I am afraid.’</p>
<p>‘My heart is my love’s,’ he answered, ‘therefore
tarry not, but get thee gone.’</p>
<p>‘Should I not love also?’ asked his Soul.</p>
<p>‘Get thee gone, for I have no need of thee,’ cried the
young Fisherman, and he took the little knife with its handle of green
viper’s skin, and cut away his shadow from around his feet, and
it rose up and stood before him, and looked at him, and it was even
as himself.</p>
<p>He crept back, and thrust the knife into his belt, and a feeling
of awe came over him. ‘Get thee gone,’ he murmured,
‘and let me see thy face no more.’</p>
<p>‘Nay, but we must meet again,’ said the Soul. Its
voice was low and flute-like, and its lips hardly moved while it spake.</p>
<p>‘How shall we meet?’ cried the young Fisherman.
‘Thou wilt not follow me into the depths of the sea?’</p>
<p>‘Once every year I will come to this place, and call to thee,’
said the Soul. ‘It may be that thou wilt have need of me.’</p>
<p>‘What need should I have of thee?’ cried the young Fisherman,
‘but be it as thou wilt,’ and he plunged into the waters
and the Tritons blew their horns and the little Mermaid rose up to meet
him, and put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.</p>
<p>And the Soul stood on the lonely beach and watched them. And
when they had sunk down into the sea, it went weeping away over the
marshes.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And after a year was over the Soul came down to the shore of the
sea and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of the deep,
and said, ‘Why dost thou call to me?’</p>
<p>And the Soul answered, ‘Come nearer, that I may speak with
thee, for I have seen marvellous things.’</p>
<p>So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And the Soul said to him, ‘When I left thee I turned my face
to the East and journeyed. From the East cometh everything that
is wise. Six days I journeyed, and on the morning of the seventh
day I came to a hill that is in the country of the Tartars. I
sat down under the shade of a tamarisk tree to shelter myself from the
sun. The land was dry and burnt up with the heat. The people
went to and fro over the plain like flies crawling upon a disk of polished
copper.</p>
<p>‘When it was noon a cloud of red dust rose up from the flat
rim of the land. When the Tartars saw it, they strung their painted
bows, and having leapt upon their little horses they galloped to meet
it. The women fled screaming to the waggons, and hid themselves
behind the felt curtains.</p>
<p>‘At twilight the Tartars returned, but five of them were missing,
and of those that came back not a few had been wounded. They harnessed
their horses to the waggons and drove hastily away. Three jackals
came out of a cave and peered after them. Then they sniffed up
the air with their nostrils, and trotted off in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>‘When the moon rose I saw a camp-fire burning on the plain,
and went towards it. A company of merchants were seated round
it on carpets. Their camels were picketed behind them, and the
negroes who were their servants were pitching tents of tanned skin upon
the sand, and making a high wall of the prickly pear.</p>
<p>‘As I came near them, the chief of the merchants rose up and
drew his sword, and asked me my business.</p>
<p>‘I answered that I was a Prince in my own land, and that I
had escaped from the Tartars, who had sought to make me their slave.
The chief smiled, and showed me five heads fixed upon long reeds of
bamboo.</p>
<p>‘Then he asked me who was the prophet of God, and I answered
him Mohammed.</p>
<p>‘When he heard the name of the false prophet, he bowed and
took me by the hand, and placed me by his side. A negro brought
me some mare’s milk in a wooden dish, and a piece of lamb’s
flesh roasted.</p>
<p>‘At daybreak we started on our journey. I rode on a red-haired
camel by the side of the chief, and a runner ran before us carrying
a spear. The men of war were on either hand, and the mules followed
with the merchandise. There were forty camels in the caravan,
and the mules were twice forty in number.</p>
<p>‘We went from the country of the Tartars into the country of
those who curse the Moon. We saw the Gryphons guarding their gold
on the white rocks, and the scaled Dragons sleeping in their caves.
As we passed over the mountains we held our breath lest the snows might
fall on us, and each man tied a veil of gauze before his eyes.
As we passed through the valleys the Pygmies shot arrows at us from
the hollows of the trees, and at night-time we heard the wild men beating
on their drums. When we came to the Tower of Apes we set fruits
before them, and they did not harm us. When we came to the Tower
of Serpents we gave them warm milk in howls of brass, and they let us
go by. Three times in our journey we came to the banks of the
Oxus. We crossed it on rafts of wood with great bladders of blown
hide. The river-horses raged against us and sought to slay us.
When the camels saw them they trembled.</p>
<p>‘The kings of each city levied tolls on us, but would not suffer
us to enter their gates. They threw us bread over the walls, little
maize-cakes baked in honey and cakes of fine flour filled with dates.
For every hundred baskets we gave them a bead of amber.</p>
<p>‘When the dwellers in the villages saw us coming, they poisoned
the wells and fled to the hill-summits. We fought with the Magadae
who are born old, and grow younger and younger every year, and die when
they are little children; and with the Laktroi who say that they are
the sons of tigers, and paint themselves yellow and black; and with
the Aurantes who bury their dead on the tops of trees, and themselves
live in dark caverns lest the Sun, who is their god, should slay them;
and with the Krimnians who worship a crocodile, and give it earrings
of green glass, and feed it with butter and fresh fowls; and with the
Agazonbae, who are dog-faced; and with the Sibans, who have horses’
feet, and run more swiftly than horses. A third of our company
died in battle, and a third died of want. The rest murmured against
me, and said that I had brought them an evil fortune. I took a
horned adder from beneath a stone and let it sting me. When they
saw that I did not sicken they grew afraid.</p>
<p>‘In the fourth month we reached the city of Illel. It
was night-time when we came to the grove that is outside the walls,
and the air was sultry, for the Moon was travelling in Scorpion.
We took the ripe pomegranates from the trees, and brake them, and drank
their sweet juices. Then we lay down on our carpets, and waited
for the dawn.</p>
<p>‘And at dawn we rose and knocked at the gate of the city.
It was wrought out of red bronze, and carved with sea-dragons and dragons
that have wings. The guards looked down from the battlements and
asked us our business. The interpreter of the caravan answered
that we had come from the island of Syria with much merchandise.
They took hostages, and told us that they would open the gate to us
at noon, and bade us tarry till then.</p>
<p>‘When it was noon they opened the gate, and as we entered in
the people came crowding out of the houses to look at us, and a crier
went round the city crying through a shell. We stood in the market-place,
and the negroes uncorded the bales of figured cloths and opened the
carved chests of sycamore. And when they had ended their task,
the merchants set forth their strange wares, the waxed linen from Egypt
and the painted linen from the country of the Ethiops, the purple sponges
from Tyre and the blue hangings from Sidon, the cups of cold amber and
the fine vessels of glass and the curious vessels of burnt clay.
From the roof of a house a company of women watched us. One of
them wore a mask of gilded leather.</p>
<p>‘And on the first day the priests came and bartered with us,
and on the second day came the nobles, and on the third day came the
craftsmen and the slaves. And this is their custom with all merchants
as long as they tarry in the city.</p>
<p>‘And we tarried for a moon, and when the moon was waning, I
wearied and wandered away through the streets of the city and came to
the garden of its god. The priests in their yellow robes moved
silently through the green trees, and on a pavement of black marble
stood the rose-red house in which the god had his dwelling. Its
doors were of powdered lacquer, and bulls and peacocks were wrought
on them in raised and polished gold. The tilted roof was of sea-green
porcelain, and the jutting eaves were festooned with little bells.
When the white doves flew past, they struck the bells with their wings
and made them tinkle.</p>
<p>‘In front of the temple was a pool of clear water paved with
veined onyx. I lay down beside it, and with my pale fingers I
touched the broad leaves. One of the priests came towards me and
stood behind me. He had sandals on his feet, one of soft serpent-skin
and the other of birds’ plumage. On his head was a mitre
of black felt decorated with silver crescents. Seven yellows were
woven into his robe, and his frizzed hair was stained with antimony.</p>
<p>‘After a little while he spake to me, and asked me my desire.</p>
<p>‘I told him that my desire was to see the god.</p>
<p>‘“The god is hunting,” said the priest, looking
strangely at me with his small slanting eyes.</p>
<p>‘“Tell me in what forest, and I will ride with him,”
I answered.</p>
<p>‘He combed out the soft fringes of his tunic with his long
pointed nails. “The god is asleep,” he murmured.</p>
<p>‘“Tell me on what couch, and I will watch by him,”
I answered.</p>
<p>‘“The god is at the feast,” he cried.</p>
<p>‘“If the wine be sweet I will drink it with him, and
if it be bitter I will drink it with him also,” was my answer.</p>
<p>‘He bowed his head in wonder, and, taking me by the hand, he
raised me up, and led me into the temple.</p>
<p>‘And in the first chamber I saw an idol seated on a throne
of jasper bordered with great orient pearls. It was carved out
of ebony, and in stature was of the stature of a man. On its forehead
was a ruby, and thick oil dripped from its hair on to its thighs.
Its feet were red with the blood of a newly-slain kid, and its loins
girt with a copper belt that was studded with seven beryls.</p>
<p>‘And I said to the priest, “Is this the god?”
And he answered me, “This is the god.”</p>
<p>‘“Show me the god,” I cried, “or I will surely
slay thee.” And I touched his hand, and it became withered.</p>
<p>‘And the priest besought me, saying, “Let my lord heal
his servant, and I will show him the god.”</p>
<p>‘So I breathed with my breath upon his hand, and it became
whole again, and he trembled and led me into the second chamber, and
I saw an idol standing on a lotus of jade hung with great emeralds.
It was carved out of ivory, and in stature was twice the stature of
a man. On its forehead was a chrysolite, and its breasts were
smeared with myrrh and cinnamon. In one hand it held a crooked
sceptre of jade, and in the other a round crystal. It ware buskins
of brass, and its thick neck was circled with a circle of selenites.</p>
<p>‘And I said to the priest, “Is this the god?”</p>
<p>‘And he answered me, “This is the god.”</p>
<p>‘“Show me the god,” I cried, “or I will surely
slay thee.” And I touched his eyes, and they became blind.</p>
<p>‘And the priest besought me, saying, “Let my lord heal
his servant, and I will show him the god.”</p>
<p>‘So I breathed with my breath upon his eyes, and the sight
came back to them, and he trembled again, and led me into the third
chamber, and lo! there was no idol in it, nor image of any kind, but
only a mirror of round metal set on an altar of stone.</p>
<p>‘And I said to the priest, “Where is the god?”</p>
<p>‘And he answered me: “There is no god but this mirror
that thou seest, for this is the Mirror of Wisdom. And it reflecteth
all things that are in heaven and on earth, save only the face of him
who looketh into it. This it reflecteth not, so that he who looketh
into it may be wise. Many other mirrors are there, but they are
mirrors of Opinion. This only is the Mirror of Wisdom. And
they who possess this mirror know everything, nor is there anything
hidden from them. And they who possess it not have not Wisdom.
Therefore is it the god, and we worship it.” And I looked
into the mirror, and it was even as he had said to me.</p>
<p>‘And I did a strange thing, but what I did matters not, for
in a valley that is but a day’s journey from this place have I
hidden the Mirror of Wisdom. Do but suffer me to enter into thee
again and be thy servant, and thou shalt be wiser than all the wise
men, and Wisdom shall be thine. Suffer me to enter into thee,
and none will be as wise as thou.’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman laughed. ‘Love is better than
Wisdom,’ he cried, ‘and the little Mermaid loves me.’</p>
<p><i>‘</i>Nay, but there is nothing better than Wisdom,’
said the Soul.</p>
<p>‘Love is better,’ answered the young Fisherman, and he
plunged into the deep, and the Soul went weeping away over the marshes.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And after the second year was over, the Soul came down to the shore
of the sea, and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of the
deep and said, ‘Why dost thou call to me?’</p>
<p>And the Soul answered, ‘Come nearer, that I may speak with
thee, for I have seen marvellous things.’</p>
<p>So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.</p>
<p>And the Soul said to him, ‘When I left thee, I turned my face
to the South and journeyed. From the South cometh everything that
is precious. Six days I journeyed along the highways that lead
to the city of Ashter, along the dusty red-dyed highways by which the
pilgrims are wont to go did I journey, and on the morning of the seventh
day I lifted up my eyes, and lo! the city lay at my feet, for it is
in a valley.</p>
<p>‘There are nine gates to this city, and in front of each gate
stands a bronze horse that neighs when the Bedouins come down from the
mountains. The walls are cased with copper, and the watch-towers
on the walls are roofed with brass. In every tower stands an archer
with a bow in his hand. At sunrise he strikes with an arrow on
a gong, and at sunset he blows through a horn of horn.</p>
<p>‘When I sought to enter, the guards stopped me and asked of
me who I was. I made answer that I was a Dervish and on my way
to the city of Mecca, where there was a green veil on which the Koran
was embroidered in silver letters by the hands of the angels.
They were filled with wonder, and entreated me to pass in.</p>
<p>‘Inside it is even as a bazaar. Surely thou shouldst
have been with me. Across the narrow streets the gay lanterns
of paper flutter like large butterflies. When the wind blows over
the roofs they rise and fall as painted bubbles do. In front of
their booths sit the merchants on silken carpets. They have straight
black beards, and their turbans are covered with golden sequins, and
long strings of amber and carved peach-stones glide through their cool
fingers. Some of them sell galbanum and nard, and curious perfumes
from the islands of the Indian Sea, and the thick oil of red roses,
and myrrh and little nail-shaped cloves. When one stops to speak
to them, they throw pinches of frankincense upon a charcoal brazier
and make the air sweet. I saw a Syrian who held in his hands a
thin rod like a reed. Grey threads of smoke came from it, and
its odour as it burned was as the odour of the pink almond in spring.
Others sell silver bracelets embossed all over with creamy blue turquoise
stones, and anklets of brass wire fringed with little pearls, and tigers’
claws set in gold, and the claws of that gilt cat, the leopard, set
in gold also, and earrings of pierced emerald, and finger-rings of hollowed
jade. From the tea-houses comes the sound of the guitar, and the
opium-smokers with their white smiling faces look out at the passers-by.</p>
<p>‘Of a truth thou shouldst have been with me. The wine-sellers
elbow their way through the crowd with great black skins on their shoulders.
Most of them sell the wine of Schiraz, which is as sweet as honey.
They serve it in little metal cups and strew rose leaves upon it.
In the market-place stand the fruitsellers, who sell all kinds of fruit:
ripe figs, with their bruised purple flesh, melons, smelling of musk
and yellow as topazes, citrons and rose-apples and clusters of white
grapes, round red-gold oranges, and oval lemons of green gold.
Once I saw an elephant go by. Its trunk was painted with vermilion
and turmeric, and over its ears it had a net of crimson silk cord.
It stopped opposite one of the booths and began eating the oranges,
and the man only laughed. Thou canst not think how strange a people
they are. When they are glad they go to the bird-sellers and buy
of them a caged bird, and set it free that their joy may be greater,
and when they are sad they scourge themselves with thorns that their
sorrow may not grow less.</p>
<p>‘One evening I met some negroes carrying a heavy palanquin
through the bazaar. It was made of gilded bamboo, and the poles
were of vermilion lacquer studded with brass peacocks. Across
the windows hung thin curtains of muslin embroidered with beetles’
wings and with tiny seed-pearls, and as it passed by a pale-faced Circassian
looked out and smiled at me. I followed behind, and the negroes
hurried their steps and scowled. But I did not care. I felt
a great curiosity come over me.</p>
<p>‘At last they stopped at a square white house. There
were no windows to it, only a little door like the door of a tomb.
They set down the palanquin and knocked three times with a copper hammer.
An Armenian in a caftan of green leather peered through the wicket,
and when he saw them he opened, and spread a carpet on the ground, and
the woman stepped out. As she went in, she turned round and smiled
at me again. I had never seen any one so pale.</p>
<p>‘When the moon rose I returned to the same place and sought
for the house, but it was no longer there. When I saw that, I
knew who the woman was, and wherefore she had smiled at me.</p>
<p>‘Certainly thou shouldst have been with me. On the feast
of the New Moon the young Emperor came forth from his palace and went
into the mosque to pray. His hair and beard were dyed with rose-leaves,
and his cheeks were powdered with a fine gold dust. The palms
of his feet and hands were yellow with saffron.</p>
<p>‘At sunrise he went forth from his palace in a robe of silver,
and at sunset he returned to it again in a robe of gold. The people
flung themselves on the ground and hid their faces, but I would not
do so. I stood by the stall of a seller of dates and waited.
When the Emperor saw me, he raised his painted eyebrows and stopped.
I stood quite still, and made him no obeisance. The people marvelled
at my boldness, and counselled me to flee from the city. I paid
no heed to them, but went and sat with the sellers of strange gods,
who by reason of their craft are abominated. When I told them
what I had done, each of them gave me a god and prayed me to leave them.</p>
<p>‘That night, as I lay on a cushion in the tea-house that is
in the Street of Pomegranates, the guards of the Emperor entered and
led me to the palace. As I went in they closed each door behind
me, and put a chain across it. Inside was a great court with an
arcade running all round. The walls were of white alabaster, set
here and there with blue and green tiles. The pillars were of
green marble, and the pavement of a kind of peach-blossom marble.
I had never seen anything like it before.</p>
<p>‘As I passed across the court two veiled women looked down
from a balcony and cursed me. The guards hastened on, and the
butts of the lances rang upon the polished floor. They opened
a gate of wrought ivory, and I found myself in a watered garden of seven
terraces. It was planted with tulip-cups and moonflowers, and
silver-studded aloes. Like a slim reed of crystal a fountain hung
in the dusky air. The cypress-trees were like burnt-out torches.
From one of them a nightingale was singing.</p>
<p>‘At the end of the garden stood a little pavilion. As
we approached it two eunuchs came out to meet us. Their fat bodies
swayed as they walked, and they glanced curiously at me with their yellow-lidded
eyes. One of them drew aside the captain of the guard, and in
a low voice whispered to him. The other kept munching scented
pastilles, which he took with an affected gesture out of an oval box
of lilac enamel.</p>
<p>‘After a few moments the captain of the guard dismissed the
soldiers. They went back to the palace, the eunuchs following
slowly behind and plucking the sweet mulberries from the trees as they
passed. Once the elder of the two turned round, and smiled at
me with an evil smile.</p>
<p>‘Then the captain of the guard motioned me towards the entrance
of the pavilion. I walked on without trembling, and drawing the
heavy curtain aside I entered in.</p>
<p>‘The young Emperor was stretched on a couch of dyed lion skins,
and a gerfalcon perched upon his wrist. Behind him stood a brass-turbaned
Nubian, naked down to the waist, and with heavy earrings in his split
ears. On a table by the side of the couch lay a mighty scimitar
of steel.</p>
<p>‘When the Emperor saw me he frowned, and said to me, “What
is thy name? Knowest thou not that I am Emperor of this city?”
But I made him no answer.</p>
<p>‘He pointed with his finger at the scimitar, and the Nubian
seized it, and rushing forward struck at me with great violence.
The blade whizzed through me, and did me no hurt. The man fell
sprawling on the floor, and when he rose up his teeth chattered with
terror and he hid himself behind the couch.</p>
<p>‘The Emperor leapt to his feet, and taking a lance from a stand
of arms, he threw it at me. I caught it in its flight, and brake
the shaft into two pieces. He shot at me with an arrow, but I
held up my hands and it stopped in mid-air. Then he drew a dagger
from a belt of white leather, and stabbed the Nubian in the throat lest
the slave should tell of his dishonour. The man writhed like a
trampled snake, and a red foam bubbled from his lips.</p>
<p>‘As soon as he was dead the Emperor turned to me, and when
he had wiped away the bright sweat from his brow with a little napkin
of purfled and purple silk, he said to me, “Art thou a prophet,
that I may not harm thee, or the son of a prophet, that I can do thee
no hurt? I pray thee leave my city to-night, for while thou art
in it I am no longer its lord.”</p>
<p>‘And I answered him, “I will go for half of thy treasure.
Give me half of thy treasure, and I will go away.”</p>
<p>‘He took me by the hand, and led me out into the garden.
When the captain of the guard saw me, he wondered. When the eunuchs
saw me, their knees shook and they fell upon the ground in fear.</p>
<p>‘There is a chamber in the palace that has eight walls of red
porphyry, and a brass-sealed ceiling hung with lamps. The Emperor
touched one of the walls and it opened, and we passed down a corridor
that was lit with many torches. In niches upon each side stood
great wine-jars filled to the brim with silver pieces. When we
reached the centre of the corridor the Emperor spake the word that may
not be spoken, and a granite door swung back on a secret spring, and
he put his hands before his face lest his eyes should be dazzled.</p>
<p>‘Thou couldst not believe how marvellous a place it was.
There were huge tortoise-shells full of pearls, and hollowed moonstones
of great size piled up with red rubies. The gold was stored in
coffers of elephant-hide, and the gold-dust in leather bottles.
There were opals and sapphires, the former in cups of crystal, and the
latter in cups of jade. Round green emeralds were ranged in order
upon thin plates of ivory, and in one corner were silk bags filled,
some with turquoise-stones, and others with beryls. The ivory
horns were heaped with purple amethysts, and the horns of brass with
chalcedonies and sards. The pillars, which were of cedar, were
hung with strings of yellow lynx-stones. In the flat oval shields
there were carbuncles, both wine-coloured and coloured like grass.
And yet I have told thee but a tithe of what was there.</p>
<p>‘And when the Emperor had taken away his hands from before
his face he said to me: “This is my house of treasure, and half
that is in it is thine, even as I promised to thee. And I will
give thee camels and camel drivers, and they shall do thy bidding and
take thy share of the treasure to whatever part of the world thou desirest
to go. And the thing shall be done to-night, for I would not that
the Sun, who is my father, should see that there is in my city a man
whom I cannot slay.”</p>
<p>‘But I answered him, “The gold that is here is thine,
and the silver also is thine, and thine are the precious jewels and
the things of price. As for me, I have no need of these.
Nor shall I take aught from thee but that little ring that thou wearest
on the finger of thy hand.”</p>
<p>‘And the Emperor frowned. “It is but a ring of
lead,” he cried, “nor has it any value. Therefore
take thy half of the treasure and go from my city.”</p>
<p>‘“Nay,” I answered, “but I will take nought
but that leaden ring, for I know what is written within it, and for
what purpose.”</p>
<p>‘And the Emperor trembled, and besought me and said, “Take
all the treasure and go from my city. The half that is mine shall
be thine also.”</p>
<p>‘And I did a strange thing, but what I did matters not, for
in a cave that is but a day’s journey from this place have, I
hidden the Ring of Riches. It is but a day’s journey from
this place, and it waits for thy coming. He who has this Ring
is richer than all the kings of the world. Come therefore and
take it, and the world’s riches shall be thine.’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman laughed. ‘Love is better than
Riches,’ he cried, ‘and the little Mermaid loves me.’</p>
<p>‘Nay, but there is nothing better than Riches,’ said
the Soul.</p>
<p>‘Love is better,’ answered the young Fisherman, and he
plunged into the deep, and the Soul went weeping away over the marshes.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And after the third year was over, the Soul came down to the shore
of the sea, and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of the
deep and said, ‘Why dost thou call to me?’</p>
<p>And the Soul answered, ‘Come nearer, that I may speak with
thee, for I have seen marvellous things.’</p>
<p>So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.</p>
<p>And the Soul said to him, ‘In a city that I know of there is
an inn that standeth by a river. I sat there with sailors who
drank of two different-coloured wines, and ate bread made of barley,
and little salt fish served in bay leaves with vinegar. And as
we sat and made merry, there entered to us an old man bearing a leathern
carpet and a lute that had two horns of amber. And when he had
laid out the carpet on the floor, he struck with a quill on the wire
strings of his lute, and a girl whose face was veiled ran in and began
to dance before us. Her face was veiled with a veil of gauze,
but her feet were naked. Naked were her feet, and they moved over
the carpet like little white pigeons. Never have I seen anything
so marvellous; and the city in which she dances is but a day’s
journey from this place.’</p>
<p>Now when the young Fisherman heard the words of his Soul, he remembered
that the little Mermaid had no feet and could not dance. And a
great desire came over him, and he said to himself, ‘It is but
a day’s journey, and I can return to my love,’ and he laughed,
and stood up in the shallow water, and strode towards the shore.</p>
<p>And when he had reached the dry shore he laughed again, and held
out his arms to his Soul. And his Soul gave a great cry of joy
and ran to meet him, and entered into him, and the young Fisherman saw
stretched before him upon the sand that shadow of the body that is the
body of the Soul.</p>
<p>And his Soul said to him, ‘Let us not tarry, but get hence
at once, for the Sea-gods are jealous, and have monsters that do their
bidding.’</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>So they made haste, and all that night they journeyed beneath the
moon, and all the next day they journeyed beneath the sun, and on the
evening of the day they came to a city.</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman said to his Soul, ‘Is this the city
in which she dances of whom thou didst speak to me?’</p>
<p>And his Soul answered him, ‘It is not this city, but another.
Nevertheless let us enter in.’ So they entered in and passed
through the streets, and as they passed through the Street of the Jewellers
the young Fisherman saw a fair silver cup set forth in a booth.
And his Soul said to him, ‘Take that silver cup and hide it.’</p>
<p>So he took the cup and hid it in the fold of his tunic, and they
went hurriedly out of the city.</p>
<p>And after that they had gone a league from the city, the young Fisherman
frowned, and flung the cup away, and said to his Soul, ‘Why didst
thou tell me to take this cup and hide it, for it was an evil thing
to do?’</p>
<p>But his Soul answered him, ‘Be at peace, be at peace.’</p>
<p>And on the evening of the second day they came to a city, and the
young Fisherman said to his Soul, ‘Is this the city in which she
dances of whom thou didst speak to me?’</p>
<p>And his Soul answered him, ‘It is not this city, but another.
Nevertheless let us enter in.’ So they entered in and passed
through the streets, and as they passed through the Street of the Sellers
of Sandals, the young Fisherman saw a child standing by a jar of water.
And his Soul said to him, ‘Smite that child.’ So he
smote the child till it wept, and when he had done this they went hurriedly
out of the city.</p>
<p>And after that they had gone a league from the city the young Fisherman
grew wroth, and said to his Soul, ‘Why didst thou tell me to smite
the child, for it was an evil thing to do?’</p>
<p>But his Soul answered him, ‘Be at peace, be at peace.’</p>
<p>And on the evening of the third day they came to a city, and the
young Fisherman said to his Soul, ‘Is this the city in which she
dances of whom thou didst speak to me?’</p>
<p>And his Soul answered him, ‘It may be that it is in this city,
therefore let us enter in.’</p>
<p>So they entered in and passed through the streets, but nowhere could
the young Fisherman find the river or the inn that stood by its side.
And the people of the city looked curiously at him, and he grew afraid
and said to his Soul, ‘Let us go hence, for she who dances with
white feet is not here.’</p>
<p>But his Soul answered, ‘Nay, but let us tarry, for the night
is dark and there will be robbers on the way.’</p>
<p>So he sat him down in the market-place and rested, and after a time
there went by a hooded merchant who had a cloak of cloth of Tartary,
and bare a lantern of pierced horn at the end of a jointed reed.
And the merchant said to him, ‘Why dost thou sit in the market-place,
seeing that the booths are closed and the bales corded?’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman answered him, ‘I can find no inn in
this city, nor have I any kinsman who might give me shelter.’</p>
<p>‘Are we not all kinsmen?’ said the merchant. ‘And
did not one God make us? Therefore come with me, for I have a
guest-chamber.’</p>
<p>So the young Fisherman rose up and followed the merchant to his house.
And when he had passed through a garden of pomegranates and entered
into the house, the merchant brought him rose-water in a copper dish
that he might wash his hands, and ripe melons that he might quench his
thirst, and set a bowl of rice and a piece of roasted kid before him.</p>
<p>And after that he had finished, the merchant led him to the guest-chamber,
and bade him sleep and be at rest. And the young Fisherman gave
him thanks, and kissed the ring that was on his hand, and flung himself
down on the carpets of dyed goat’s-hair. And when he had
covered himself with a covering of black lamb’s-wool he fell asleep.</p>
<p>And three hours before dawn, and while it was still night, his Soul
waked him and said to him, ‘Rise up and go to the room of the
merchant, even to the room in which he sleepeth, and slay him, and take
from him his gold, for we have need of it.’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman rose up and crept towards the room of the
merchant, and over the feet of the merchant there was lying a curved
sword, and the tray by the side of the merchant held nine purses of
gold. And he reached out his hand and touched the sword, and when
he touched it the merchant started and awoke, and leaping up seized
himself the sword and cried to the young Fisherman, ‘Dost thou
return evil for good, and pay with the shedding of blood for the kindness
that I have shown thee?’</p>
<p>And his Soul said to the young Fisherman, ‘Strike him,’
and he struck him so that he swooned and he seized then the nine purses
of gold, and fled hastily through the garden of pomegranates, and set
his face to the star that is the star of morning.</p>
<p>And when they had gone a league from the city, the young Fisherman
beat his breast, and said to his Soul, ‘Why didst thou bid me
slay the merchant and take his gold? Surely thou art evil.’</p>
<p>But his Soul answered him, ‘Be at peace, be at peace.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ cried the young Fisherman, ‘I may not be
at peace, for all that thou hast made me to do I hate. Thee also
I hate, and I bid thee tell me wherefore thou hast wrought with me in
this wise.’</p>
<p>And his Soul answered him, ‘When thou didst send me forth into
the world thou gavest me no heart, so I learned to do all these things
and love them.’</p>
<p>‘What sayest thou?’ murmured the young Fisherman.</p>
<p>‘Thou knowest,’ answered his Soul, ‘thou knowest
it well. Hast thou forgotten that thou gavest me no heart?
I trow not. And so trouble not thyself nor me, but be at peace,
for there is no pain that thou shalt not give away, nor any pleasure
that thou shalt not receive.’</p>
<p>And when the young Fisherman heard these words he trembled and said
to his Soul, ‘Nay, but thou art evil, and hast made me forget
my love, and hast tempted me with temptations, and hast set my feet
in the ways of sin.’</p>
<p>And his Soul answered him, ‘Thou hast not forgotten that when
thou didst send me forth into the world thou gavest me no heart.
Come, let us go to another city, and make merry, for we have nine purses
of gold.’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman took the nine purses of gold, and flung them
down, and trampled on them.</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ he cried, ‘but I will have nought to do
with thee, nor will I journey with thee anywhere, but even as I sent
thee away before, so will I send thee away now, for thou hast wrought
me no good.’ And he turned his back to the moon, and with
the little knife that had the handle of green viper’s skin he
strove to cut from his feet that shadow of the body which is the body
of the Soul.</p>
<p>Yet his Soul stirred not from him, nor paid heed to his command,
but said to him, ‘The spell that the Witch told thee avails thee
no more, for I may not leave thee, nor mayest thou drive me forth.
Once in his life may a man send his Soul away, but he who receiveth
back his Soul must keep it with him for ever, and this is his punishment
and his reward.’</p>
<p>And the young Fisherman grew pale and clenched his hands and cried,
‘She was a false Witch in that she told me not that.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ answered his Soul, ‘but she was true to
Him she worships, and whose servant she will be ever.’</p>
<p>And when the young Fisherman knew that he could no longer get rid
of his Soul, and that it was an evil Soul and would abide with him always,
he fell upon the ground weeping bitterly.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And when it was day the young Fisherman rose up and said to his Soul,
‘I will bind my hands that I may not do thy bidding, and close
my lips that I may not speak thy words, and I will return to the place
where she whom I love has her dwelling. Even to the sea will I
return, and to the little bay where she is wont to sing, and I will
call to her and tell her the evil I have done and the evil thou hast
wrought on me.’</p>
<p>And his Soul tempted him and said, ‘Who is thy love, that thou
shouldst return to her? The world has many fairer than she is.
There are the dancing-girls of Samaris who dance in the manner of all
kinds of birds and beasts. Their feet are painted with henna,
and in their hands they have little copper bells. They laugh while
they dance, and their laughter is as clear as the laughter of water.
Come with me and I will show them to thee. For what is this trouble
of thine about the things of sin? Is that which is pleasant to
eat not made for the eater? Is there poison in that which is sweet
to drink? Trouble not thyself, but come with me to another city.
There is a little city hard by in which there is a garden of tulip-trees.
And there dwell in this comely garden white peacocks and peacocks that
have blue breasts. Their tails when they spread them to the sun
are like disks of ivory and like gilt disks. And she who feeds
them dances for their pleasure, and sometimes she dances on her hands
and at other times she dances with her feet. Her eyes are coloured
with stibium, and her nostrils are shaped like the wings of a swallow.
From a hook in one of her nostrils hangs a flower that is carved out
of a pearl. She laughs while she dances, and the silver rings
that are about her ankles tinkle like bells of silver. And so
trouble not thyself any more, but come with me to this city.’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul, but closed his lips
with the seal of silence and with a tight cord bound his hands, and
journeyed back to the place from which he had come, even to the little
bay where his love had been wont to sing. And ever did his Soul
tempt him by the way, but he made it no answer, nor would he do any
of the wickedness that it sought to make him to do, so great was the
power of the love that was within him.</p>
<p>And when he had reached the shore of the sea, he loosed the cord
from his hands, and took the seal of silence from his lips, and called
to the little Mermaid. But she came not to his call, though he
called to her all day long and besought her.</p>
<p>And his Soul mocked him and said, ‘Surely thou hast but little
joy out of thy love. Thou art as one who in time of death pours
water into a broken vessel. Thou givest away what thou hast, and
nought is given to thee in return. It were better for thee to
come with me, for I know where the Valley of Pleasure lies, and what
things are wrought there.’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul, but in a cleft of
the rock he built himself a house of wattles, and abode there for the
space of a year. And every morning he called to the Mermaid, and
every noon he called to her again, and at night-time he spake her name.
Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet him, nor in any place
of the sea could he find her though he sought for her in the caves and
in the green water, in the pools of the tide and in the wells that are
at the bottom of the deep.</p>
<p>And ever did his Soul tempt him with evil, and whisper of terrible
things. Yet did it not prevail against him, so great was the power
of his love.</p>
<p>And after the year was over, the Soul thought within himself, ‘I
have tempted my master with evil, and his love is stronger than I am.
I will tempt him now with good, and it may be that he will come with
me.’</p>
<p>So he spake to the young Fisherman and said, ‘I have told thee
of the joy of the world, and thou hast turned a deaf ear to me.
Suffer me now to tell thee of the world’s pain, and it may be
that thou wilt hearken. For of a truth pain is the Lord of this
world, nor is there any one who escapes from its net. There be
some who lack raiment, and others who lack bread. There be widows
who sit in purple, and widows who sit in rags. To and fro over
the fens go the lepers, and they are cruel to each other. The
beggars go up and down on the highways, and their wallets are empty.
Through the streets of the cities walks Famine, and the Plague sits
at their gates. Come, let us go forth and mend these things, and
make them not to be. Wherefore shouldst thou tarry here calling
to thy love, seeing she comes not to thy call? And what is love,
that thou shouldst set this high store upon it?’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman answered it nought, so great was the power
of his love. And every morning he called to the Mermaid, and every
noon he called to her again, and at night-time he spake her name.
Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet him, nor in any place
of the sea could he find her, though he sought for her in the rivers
of the sea, and in the valleys that are under the waves, in the sea
that the night makes purple, and in the sea that the dawn leaves grey.</p>
<p>And after the second year was over, the Soul said to the young Fisherman
at night-time, and as he sat in the wattled house alone, ‘Lo!
now I have tempted thee with evil, and I have tempted thee with good,
and thy love is stronger than I am. Wherefore will I tempt thee
no longer, but I pray thee to suffer me to enter thy heart, that I may
be one with thee even as before.’</p>
<p>‘Surely thou mayest enter,’ said the young Fisherman,
‘for in the days when with no heart thou didst go through the
world thou must have much suffered.’</p>
<p>‘Alas!’ cried his Soul, ‘I can find no place of
entrance, so compassed about with love is this heart of thine.’</p>
<p>‘Yet I would that I could help thee,’ said the young
Fisherman.</p>
<p>And as he spake there came a great cry of mourning from the sea,
even the cry that men hear when one of the Sea-folk is dead. And
the young Fisherman leapt up, and left his wattled house, and ran down
to the shore. And the black waves came hurrying to the shore,
bearing with them a burden that was whiter than silver. White
as the surf it was, and like a flower it tossed on the waves.
And the surf took it from the waves, and the foam took it from the surf,
and the shore received it, and lying at his feet the young Fisherman
saw the body of the little Mermaid. Dead at his feet it was lying.</p>
<p>Weeping as one smitten with pain he flung himself down beside it,
and he kissed the cold red of the mouth, and toyed with the wet amber
of the hair. He flung himself down beside it on the sand, weeping
as one trembling with joy, and in his brown arms he held it to his breast.
Cold were the lips, yet he kissed them. Salt was the honey of
the hair, yet he tasted it with a bitter joy. He kissed the closed
eyelids, and the wild spray that lay upon their cups was less salt than
his tears.</p>
<p>And to the dead thing he made confession. Into the shells of
its ears he poured the harsh wine of his tale. He put the little
hands round his neck, and with his fingers he touched the thin reed
of the throat. Bitter, bitter was his joy, and full of strange
gladness was his pain.</p>
<p>The black sea came nearer, and the white foam moaned like a leper.
With white claws of foam the sea grabbled at the shore. From the
palace of the Sea-King came the cry of mourning again, and far out upon
the sea the great Tritons blew hoarsely upon their horns.</p>
<p>‘Flee away,’ said his Soul, ‘for ever doth the
sea come nigher, and if thou tarriest it will slay thee. Flee
away, for I am afraid, seeing that thy heart is closed against me by
reason of the greatness of thy love. Flee away to a place of safety.
Surely thou wilt not send me without a heart into another world?’</p>
<p>But the young Fisherman listened not to his Soul, but called on the
little Mermaid and said, ‘Love is better than wisdom, and more
precious than riches, and fairer than the feet of the daughters of men.
The fires cannot destroy it, nor can the waters quench it. I called
on thee at dawn, and thou didst not come to my call. The moon
heard thy name, yet hadst thou no heed of me. For evilly had I
left thee, and to my own hurt had I wandered away. Yet ever did
thy love abide with me, and ever was it strong, nor did aught prevail
against it, though I have looked upon evil and looked upon good.
And now that thou art dead, surely I will die with thee also.’</p>
<p>And his Soul besought him to depart, but he would not, so great was
his love. And the sea came nearer, and sought to cover him with
its waves, and when he knew that the end was at hand he kissed with
mad lips the cold lips of the Mermaid, and the heart that was within
him brake. And as through the fulness of his love his heart did
break, the Soul found an entrance and entered in, and was one with him
even as before. And the sea covered the young Fisherman with its
waves.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And in the morning the Priest went forth to bless the sea, for it
had been troubled. And with him went the monks and the musicians,
and the candle-bearers, and the swingers of censers, and a great company.</p>
<p>And when the Priest reached the shore he saw the young Fisherman
lying drowned in the surf, and clasped in his arms was the body of the
little Mermaid. And he drew back frowning, and having made the
sign of the cross, he cried aloud and said, ‘I will not bless
the sea nor anything that is in it. Accursed be the Sea-folk,
and accursed be all they who traffic with them. And as for him
who for love’s sake forsook God, and so lieth here with his leman
slain by God’s judgment, take up his body and the body of his
leman, and bury them in the corner of the Field of the Fullers, and
set no mark above them, nor sign of any kind, that none may know the
place of their resting. For accursed were they in their lives,
and accursed shall they be in their deaths also.’</p>
<p>And the people did as he commanded them, and in the corner of the
Field of the Fullers, where no sweet herbs grew, they dug a deep pit,
and laid the dead things within it.</p>
<p>And when the third year was over, and on a day that was a holy day,
the Priest went up to the chapel, that he might show to the people the
wounds of the Lord, and speak to them about the wrath of God.</p>
<p>And when he had robed himself with his robes, and entered in and
bowed himself before the altar, he saw that the altar was covered with
strange flowers that never had been seen before. Strange were
they to look at, and of curious beauty, and their beauty troubled him,
and their odour was sweet in his nostrils. And he felt glad, and
understood not why he was glad.</p>
<p>And after that he had opened the tabernacle, and incensed the monstrance
that was in it, and shown the fair wafer to the people, and hid it again
behind the veil of veils, he began to speak to the people, desiring
to speak to them of the wrath of God. But the beauty of the white
flowers troubled him, and their odour was sweet in his nostrils, and
there came another word into his lips, and he spake not of the wrath
of God, but of the God whose name is Love. And why he so spake,
he knew not.</p>
<p>And when he had finished his word the people wept, and the Priest
went back to the sacristy, and his eyes were full of tears. And
the deacons came in and began to unrobe him, and took from him the alb
and the girdle, the maniple and the stole. And he stood as one
in a dream.</p>
<p>And after that they had unrobed him, he looked at them and said,
‘What are the flowers that stand on the altar, and whence do they
come?’</p>
<p>And they answered him, ‘What flowers they are we cannot tell,
but they come from the corner of the Fullers’ Field.’
And the Priest trembled, and returned to his own house and prayed.</p>
<p>And in the morning, while it was still dawn, he went forth with the
monks and the musicians, and the candle-bearers and the swingers of
censers, and a great company, and came to the shore of the sea, and
blessed the sea, and all the wild things that are in it. The Fauns
also he blessed, and the little things that dance in the woodland, and
the bright-eyed things that peer through the leaves. All the things
in God’s world he blessed, and the people were filled with joy
and wonder. Yet never again in the corner of the Fullers’
Field grew flowers of any kind, but the field remained barren even as
before. Nor came the Sea-folk into the bay as they had been wont
to do, for they went to another part of the sea.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<h2>THE STAR-CHILD</h2>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<p>[TO MISS MARGOT TENNANT - MRS. ASQUITH]</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Once upon a time two poor Woodcutters were making their way home
through a great pine-forest. It was winter, and a night of bitter
cold. The snow lay thick upon the ground, and upon the branches
of the trees: the frost kept snapping the little twigs on either side
of them, as they passed: and when they came to the Mountain-Torrent
she was hanging motionless in air, for the Ice-King had kissed her.</p>
<p>So cold was it that even the animals and the birds did not know what
to make of it.</p>
<p>‘Ugh!’ snarled the Wolf, as he limped through the brushwood
with his tail between his legs, ‘this is perfectly monstrous weather.
Why doesn’t the Government look to it?’</p>
<p>‘Weet! weet! weet!’ twittered the green Linnets, ‘the
old Earth is dead and they have laid her out in her white shroud.’</p>
<p>‘The Earth is going to be married, and this is her bridal dress,’
whispered the Turtle-doves to each other. Their little pink feet
were quite frost-bitten, but they felt that it was their duty to take
a romantic view of the situation.</p>
<p>‘Nonsense!’ growled the Wolf. ‘I tell you
that it is all the fault of the Government, and if you don’t believe
me I shall eat you.’ The Wolf had a thoroughly practical
mind, and was never at a loss for a good argument.</p>
<p>‘Well, for my own part,’ said the Woodpecker, who was
a born philosopher, ‘I don’t care an atomic theory for explanations.
If a thing is so, it is so, and at present it is terribly cold.’</p>
<p>Terribly cold it certainly was. The little Squirrels, who lived
inside the tall fir-tree, kept rubbing each other’s noses to keep
themselves warm, and the Rabbits curled themselves up in their holes,
and did not venture even to look out of doors. The only people
who seemed to enjoy it were the great horned Owls. Their feathers
were quite stiff with rime, but they did not mind, and they rolled their
large yellow eyes, and called out to each other across the forest, ‘Tu-whit!
Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! what delightful weather we are
having!’</p>
<p>On and on went the two Woodcutters, blowing lustily upon their fingers,
and stamping with their huge iron-shod boots upon the caked snow.
Once they sank into a deep drift, and came out as white as millers are,
when the stones are grinding; and once they slipped on the hard smooth
ice where the marsh-water was frozen, and their faggots fell out of
their bundles, and they had to pick them up and bind them together again;
and once they thought that they had lost their way, and a great terror
seized on them, for they knew that the Snow is cruel to those who sleep
in her arms. But they put their trust in the good Saint Martin,
who watches over all travellers, and retraced their steps, and went
warily, and at last they reached the outskirts of the forest, and saw,
far down in the valley beneath them, the lights of the village in which
they dwelt.</p>
<p>So overjoyed were they at their deliverance that they laughed aloud,
and the Earth seemed to them like a flower of silver, and the Moon like
a flower of gold.</p>
<p>Yet, after that they had laughed they became sad, for they remembered
their poverty, and one of them said to the other, ‘Why did we
make merry, seeing that life is for the rich, and not for such as we
are? Better that we had died of cold in the forest, or that some
wild beast had fallen upon us and slain us.’</p>
<p>‘Truly,’ answered his companion, ‘much is given
to some, and little is given to others. Injustice has parcelled
out the world, nor is there equal division of aught save of sorrow.’</p>
<p>But as they were bewailing their misery to each other this strange
thing happened. There fell from heaven a very bright and beautiful
star. It slipped down the side of the sky, passing by the other
stars in its course, and, as they watched it wondering, it seemed to
them to sink behind a clump of willow-trees that stood hard by a little
sheepfold no more than a stone’s-throw away.</p>
<p>‘Why! there is a crook of gold for whoever finds it,’
they cried, and they set to and ran, so eager were they for the gold.</p>
<p>And one of them ran faster than his mate, and outstripped him, and
forced his way through the willows, and came out on the other side,
and lo! there was indeed a thing of gold lying on the white snow.
So he hastened towards it, and stooping down placed his hands upon it,
and it was a cloak of golden tissue, curiously wrought with stars, and
wrapped in many folds. And he cried out to his comrade that he
had found the treasure that had fallen from the sky, and when his comrade
had come up, they sat them down in the snow, and loosened the folds
of the cloak that they might divide the pieces of gold. But, alas!
no gold was in it, nor silver, nor, indeed, treasure of any kind, but
only a little child who was asleep.</p>
<p>And one of them said to the other: ‘This is a bitter ending
to our hope, nor have we any good fortune, for what doth a child profit
to a man? Let us leave it here, and go our way, seeing that we
are poor men, and have children of our own whose bread we may not give
to another.’</p>
<p>But his companion answered him: ‘Nay, but it were an evil thing
to leave the child to perish here in the snow, and though I am as poor
as thou art, and have many mouths to feed, and but little in the pot,
yet will I bring it home with me, and my wife shall have care of it.’</p>
<p>So very tenderly he took up the child, and wrapped the cloak around
it to shield it from the harsh cold, and made his way down the hill
to the village, his comrade marvelling much at his foolishness and softness
of heart.</p>
<p>And when they came to the village, his comrade said to him, ‘Thou
hast the child, therefore give me the cloak, for it is meet that we
should share.’</p>
<p>But he answered him: ‘Nay, for the cloak is neither mine nor
thine, but the child’s only,’ and he bade him Godspeed,
and went to his own house and knocked.</p>
<p>And when his wife opened the door and saw that her husband had returned
safe to her, she put her arms round his neck and kissed him, and took
from his back the bundle of faggots, and brushed the snow off his boots,
and bade him come in.</p>
<p>But he said to her, ‘I have found something in the forest,
and I have brought it to thee to have care of it,’ and he stirred
not from the threshold.</p>
<p>‘What is it?’ she cried. ‘Show it to me,
for the house is bare, and we have need of many things.’
And he drew the cloak back, and showed her the sleeping child.</p>
<p>‘Alack, goodman!’ she murmured, ‘have we not children
of our own, that thou must needs bring a changeling to sit by the hearth?
And who knows if it will not bring us bad fortune? And how shall
we tend it?’ And she was wroth against him.</p>
<p>‘Nay, but it is a Star-Child,’ he answered; and he told
her the strange manner of the finding of it.</p>
<p>But she would not be appeased, but mocked at him, and spoke angrily,
and cried: ‘Our children lack bread, and shall we feed the child
of another? Who is there who careth for us? And who giveth
us food?’</p>
<p>‘Nay, but God careth for the sparrows even, and feedeth them,’
he answered.</p>
<p>‘Do not the sparrows die of hunger in the winter?’ she
asked. ‘And is it not winter now?’</p>
<p>And the man answered nothing, but stirred not from the threshold.</p>
<p>And a bitter wind from the forest came in through the open door,
and made her tremble, and she shivered, and said to him: ‘Wilt
thou not close the door? There cometh a bitter wind into the house,
and I am cold.’</p>
<p>‘Into a house where a heart is hard cometh there not always
a bitter wind?’ he asked. And the woman answered him nothing,
but crept closer to the fire.</p>
<p>And after a time she turned round and looked at him, and her eyes
were full of tears. And he came in swiftly, and placed the child
in her arms, and she kissed it, and laid it in a little bed where the
youngest of their own children was lying. And on the morrow the
Woodcutter took the curious cloak of gold and placed it in a great chest,
and a chain of amber that was round the child’s neck his wife
took and set it in the chest also.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>So the Star-Child was brought up with the children of the Woodcutter,
and sat at the same board with them, and was their playmate. And
every year he became more beautiful to look at, so that all those who
dwelt in the village were filled with wonder, for, while they were swarthy
and black-haired, he was white and delicate as sawn ivory, and his curls
were like the rings of the daffodil. His lips, also, were like
the petals of a red flower, and his eyes were like violets by a river
of pure water, and his body like the narcissus of a field where the
mower comes not.</p>
<p>Yet did his beauty work him evil. For he grew proud, and cruel,
and selfish. The children of the Woodcutter, and the other children
of the village, he despised, saying that they were of mean parentage,
while he was noble, being sprang from a Star, and he made himself master
over them, and called them his servants. No pity had he for the
poor, or for those who were blind or maimed or in any way afflicted,
but would cast stones at them and drive them forth on to the highway,
and bid them beg their bread elsewhere, so that none save the outlaws
came twice to that village to ask for alms. Indeed, he was as
one enamoured of beauty, and would mock at the weakly and ill-favoured,
and make jest of them; and himself he loved, and in summer, when the
winds were still, he would lie by the well in the priest’s orchard
and look down at the marvel of his own face, and laugh for the pleasure
he had in his fairness.</p>
<p>Often did the Woodcutter and his wife chide him, and say: ‘We
did not deal with thee as thou dealest with those who are left desolate,
and have none to succour them. Wherefore art thou so cruel to
all who need pity?’</p>
<p>Often did the old priest send for him, and seek to teach him the
love of living things, saying to him: ‘The fly is thy brother.
Do it no harm. The wild birds that roam through the forest have
their freedom. Snare them not for thy pleasure. God made
the blind-worm and the mole, and each has its place. Who art thou
to bring pain into God’s world? Even the cattle of the field
praise Him.’</p>
<p>But the Star-Child heeded not their words, but would frown and flout,
and go back to his companions, and lead them. And his companions
followed him, for he was fair, and fleet of foot, and could dance, and
pipe, and make music. And wherever the Star-Child led them they
followed, and whatever the Star-Child bade them do, that did they.
And when he pierced with a sharp reed the dim eyes of the mole, they
laughed, and when he cast stones at the leper they laughed also.
And in all things he ruled them, and they became hard of heart even
as he was.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>Now there passed one day through the village a poor beggar-woman.
Her garments were torn and ragged, and her feet were bleeding from the
rough road on which she had travelled, and she was in very evil plight.
And being weary she sat her down under a chestnut-tree to rest.</p>
<p>But when the Star-Child saw her, he said to his companions, ‘See!
There sitteth a foul beggar-woman under that fair and green-leaved tree.
Come, let us drive her hence, for she is ugly and ill-favoured.’</p>
<p>So he came near and threw stones at her, and mocked her, and she
looked at him with terror in her eyes, nor did she move her gaze from
him. And when the Woodcutter, who was cleaving logs in a haggard
hard by, saw what the Star-Child was doing, he ran up and rebuked him,
and said to him: ‘Surely thou art hard of heart and knowest not
mercy, for what evil has this poor woman done to thee that thou shouldst
treat her in this wise?’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child grew red with anger, and stamped his foot upon
the ground, and said, ‘Who art thou to question me what I do?
I am no son of thine to do thy bidding.’</p>
<p>‘Thou speakest truly,’ answered the Woodcutter, ‘yet
did I show thee pity when I found thee in the forest.’</p>
<p>And when the woman heard these words she gave a loud cry, and fell
into a swoon. And the Woodcutter carried her to his own house,
and his wife had care of her, and when she rose up from the swoon into
which she had fallen, they set meat and drink before her, and bade her
have comfort.</p>
<p>But she would neither eat nor drink, but said to the Woodcutter,
‘Didst thou not say that the child was found in the forest?
And was it not ten years from this day?’</p>
<p>And the Woodcutter answered, ‘Yea, it was in the forest that
I found him, and it is ten years from this day.’</p>
<p>‘And what signs didst thou find with him?’ she cried.
‘Bare he not upon his neck a chain of amber? Was not round
him a cloak of gold tissue broidered with stars?’</p>
<p>‘Truly,’ answered the Woodcutter, ‘it was even
as thou sayest.’ And he took the cloak and the amber chain
from the chest where they lay, and showed them to her.</p>
<p>And when she saw them she wept for joy, and said, ‘He is my
little son whom I lost in the forest. I pray thee send for him
quickly, for in search of him have I wandered over the whole world.’</p>
<p>So the Woodcutter and his wife went out and called to the Star-Child,
and said to him, ‘Go into the house, and there shalt thou find
thy mother, who is waiting for thee.’</p>
<p>So he ran in, filled with wonder and great gladness. But when
he saw her who was waiting there, he laughed scornfully and said, ‘Why,
where is my mother? For I see none here but this vile beggar-woman.’</p>
<p>And the woman answered him, ‘I am thy mother.’</p>
<p>‘Thou art mad to say so,’ cried the Star-Child angrily.
‘I am no son of thine, for thou art a beggar, and ugly, and in
rags. Therefore get thee hence, and let me see thy foul face no
more.’</p>
<p>‘Nay, but thou art indeed my little son, whom I bare in the
forest,’ she cried, and she fell on her knees, and held out her
arms to him. ‘The robbers stole thee from me, and left thee
to die,’ she murmured, ‘but I recognised thee when I saw
thee, and the signs also have I recognised, the cloak of golden tissue
and the amber chain. Therefore I pray thee come with me, for over
the whole world have I wandered in search of thee. Come with me,
my son, for I have need of thy love.’</p>
<p>But the Star-Child stirred not from his place, but shut the doors
of his heart against her, nor was there any sound heard save the sound
of the woman weeping for pain.</p>
<p>And at last he spoke to her, and his voice was hard and bitter.
‘If in very truth thou art my mother,’ he said, ‘it
had been better hadst thou stayed away, and not come here to bring me
to shame, seeing that I thought I was the child of some Star, and not
a beggar’s child, as thou tellest me that I am. Therefore
get thee hence, and let me see thee no more.’</p>
<p>‘Alas! my son,’ she cried, ‘wilt thou not kiss
me before I go? For I have suffered much to find thee.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ said the Star-Child, ‘but thou art too foul
to look at, and rather would I kiss the adder or the toad than thee.’</p>
<p>So the woman rose up, and went away into the forest weeping bitterly,
and when the Star-Child saw that she had gone, he was glad, and ran
back to his playmates that he might play with them.</p>
<p>But when they beheld him coming, they mocked him and said, ‘Why,
thou art as foul as the toad, and as loathsome as the adder. Get
thee hence, for we will not suffer thee to play with us,’ and
they drave him out of the garden.</p>
<p>And the Star-Child frowned and said to himself, ‘What is this
that they say to me? I will go to the well of water and look into
it, and it shall tell me of my beauty.’</p>
<p>So he went to the well of water and looked into it, and lo! his face
was as the face of a toad, and his body was sealed like an adder.
And he flung himself down on the grass and wept, and said to himself,
‘Surely this has come upon me by reason of my sin. For I
have denied my mother, and driven her away, and been proud, and cruel
to her. Wherefore I will go and seek her through the whole world,
nor will I rest till I have found her.’</p>
<p>And there came to him the little daughter of the Woodcutter, and
she put her hand upon his shoulder and said, ‘What doth it matter
if thou hast lost thy comeliness? Stay with us, and I will not
mock at thee.’</p>
<p>And he said to her, ‘Nay, but I have been cruel to my mother,
and as a punishment has this evil been sent to me. Wherefore I
must go hence, and wander through the world till I find her, and she
give me her forgiveness.’</p>
<p>So he ran away into the forest and called out to his mother to come
to him, but there was no answer. All day long he called to her,
and, when the sun set he lay down to sleep on a bed of leaves, and the
birds and the animals fled from him, for they remembered his cruelty,
and he was alone save for the toad that watched him, and the slow adder
that crawled past.</p>
<p>And in the morning he rose up, and plucked some bitter berries from
the trees and ate them, and took his way through the great wood, weeping
sorely. And of everything that he met he made inquiry if perchance
they had seen his mother.</p>
<p>He said to the Mole, ‘Thou canst go beneath the earth.
Tell me, is my mother there?’</p>
<p>And the Mole answered, ‘Thou hast blinded mine eyes.
How should I know?’</p>
<p>He said to the Linnet, ‘Thou canst fly over the tops of the
tall trees, and canst see the whole world. Tell me, canst thou
see my mother?’</p>
<p>And the Linnet answered, ‘Thou hast clipt my wings for thy
pleasure. How should I fly?’</p>
<p>And to the little Squirrel who lived in the fir-tree, and was lonely,
he said, ‘Where is my mother?’</p>
<p>And the Squirrel answered, ‘Thou hast slain mine. Dost
thou seek to slay thine also?’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child wept and bowed his head, and prayed forgiveness
of God’s things, and went on through the forest, seeking for the
beggar-woman. And on the third day he came to the other side of
the forest and went down into the plain.</p>
<p>And when he passed through the villages the children mocked him,
and threw stones at him, and the carlots would not suffer him even to
sleep in the byres lest he might bring mildew on the stored corn, so
foul was he to look at, and their hired men drave him away, and there
was none who had pity on him. Nor could he hear anywhere of the
beggar-woman who was his mother, though for the space of three years
he wandered over the world, and often seemed to see her on the road
in front of him, and would call to her, and run after her till the sharp
flints made his feet to bleed. But overtake her he could not,
and those who dwelt by the way did ever deny that they had seen her,
or any like to her, and they made sport of his sorrow.</p>
<p>For the space of three years he wandered over the world, and in the
world there was neither love nor loving-kindness nor charity for him,
but it was even such a world as he had made for himself in the days
of his great pride.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And one evening he came to the gate of a strong-walled city that
stood by a river, and, weary and footsore though he was, he made to
enter in. But the soldiers who stood on guard dropped their halberts
across the entrance, and said roughly to him, ‘What is thy business
in the city?’</p>
<p>‘I am seeking for my mother,’ he answered, ‘and
I pray ye to suffer me to pass, for it may be that she is in this city.’</p>
<p>But they mocked at him, and one of them wagged a black beard, and
set down his shield and cried, ‘Of a truth, thy mother will not
be merry when she sees thee, for thou art more ill-favoured than the
toad of the marsh, or the adder that crawls in the fen. Get thee
gone. Get thee gone. Thy mother dwells not in this city.’</p>
<p>And another, who held a yellow banner in his hand, said to him, ‘Who
is thy mother, and wherefore art thou seeking for her?’</p>
<p>And he answered, ‘My mother is a beggar even as I am, and I
have treated her evilly, and I pray ye to suffer me to pass that she
may give me her forgiveness, if it be that she tarrieth in this city.’
But they would not, and pricked him with their spears.</p>
<p>And, as he turned away weeping, one whose armour was inlaid with
gilt flowers, and on whose helmet couched a lion that had wings, came
up and made inquiry of the soldiers who it was who had sought entrance.
And they said to him, ‘It is a beggar and the child of a beggar,
and we have driven him away.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ he cried, laughing, ‘but we will sell the
foul thing for a slave, and his price shall be the price of a bowl of
sweet wine.’</p>
<p>And an old and evil-visaged man who was passing by called out, and
said, ‘I will buy him for that price,’ and, when he had
paid the price, he took the Star-Child by the hand and led him into
the city.</p>
<p>And after that they had gone through many streets they came to a
little door that was set in a wall that was covered with a pomegranate
tree. And the old man touched the door with a ring of graved jasper
and it opened, and they went down five steps of brass into a garden
filled with black poppies and green jars of burnt clay. And the
old man took then from his turban a scarf of figured silk, and bound
with it the eyes of the Star-Child, and drave him in front of him.
And when the scarf was taken off his eyes, the Star-Child found himself
in a dungeon, that was lit by a lantern of horn.</p>
<p>And the old man set before him some mouldy bread on a trencher and
said, ‘Eat,’ and some brackish water in a cup and said,
‘Drink,’ and when he had eaten and drunk, the old man went
out, locking the door behind him and fastening it with an iron chain.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And on the morrow the old man, who was indeed the subtlest of the
magicians of Libya and had learned his art from one who dwelt in the
tombs of the Nile, came in to him and frowned at him, and said, ‘In
a wood that is nigh to the gate of this city of Giaours there are three
pieces of gold. One is of white gold, and another is of yellow
gold, and the gold of the third one is red. To-day thou shalt
bring me the piece of white gold, and if thou bringest it not back,
I will beat thee with a hundred stripes. Get thee away quickly,
and at sunset I will be waiting for thee at the door of the garden.
See that thou bringest the white gold, or it shall go ill with thee,
for thou art my slave, and I have bought thee for the price of a bowl
of sweet wine.’ And he bound the eyes of the Star-Child
with the scarf of figured silk, and led him through the house, and through
the garden of poppies, and up the five steps of brass. And having
opened the little door with his ring he set him in the street.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And the Star-Child went out of the gate of the city, and came to
the wood of which the Magician had spoken to him.</p>
<p>Now this wood was very fair to look at from without, and seemed full
of singing birds and of sweet-scented flowers, and the Star-Child entered
it gladly. Yet did its beauty profit him little, for wherever
he went harsh briars and thorns shot up from the ground and encompassed
him, and evil nettles stung him, and the thistle pierced him with her
daggers, so that he was in sore distress. Nor could he anywhere
find the piece of white gold of which the Magician had spoken, though
he sought for it from morn to noon, and from noon to sunset. And
at sunset he set his face towards home, weeping bitterly, for he knew
what fate was in store for him.</p>
<p>But when he had reached the outskirts of the wood, he heard from
a thicket a cry as of some one in pain. And forgetting his own
sorrow he ran back to the place, and saw there a little Hare caught
in a trap that some hunter had set for it.</p>
<p>And the Star-Child had pity on it, and released it, and said to it,
‘I am myself but a slave, yet may I give thee thy freedom.’</p>
<p>And the Hare answered him, and said: ‘Surely thou hast given
me freedom, and what shall I give thee in return?’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child said to it, ‘I am seeking for a piece of
white gold, nor can I anywhere find it, and if I bring it not to my
master he will beat me.’</p>
<p>‘Come thou with me,’ said the Hare, ‘and I will
lead thee to it, for I know where it is hidden, and for what purpose.’</p>
<p>So the Star-Child went with the Hare, and lo! in the cleft of a great
oak-tree he saw the piece of white gold that he was seeking. And
he was filled with joy, and seized it, and said to the Hare, ‘The
service that I did to thee thou hast rendered back again many times
over, and the kindness that I showed thee thou hast repaid a hundred-fold.’</p>
<p>‘Nay,’ answered the Hare, ‘but as thou dealt with
me, so I did deal with thee,’ and it ran away swiftly, and the
Star-Child went towards the city.</p>
<p>Now at the gate of the city there was seated one who was a leper.
Over his face hung a cowl of grey linen, and through the eyelets his
eyes gleamed like red coals. And when he saw the Star-Child coming,
he struck upon a wooden bowl, and clattered his bell, and called out
to him, and said, ‘Give me a piece of money, or I must die of
hunger. For they have thrust me out of the city, and there is
no one who has pity on me.’</p>
<p>‘Alas!’ cried the Star-Child, ‘I have but one piece
of money in my wallet, and if I bring it not to my master he will beat
me, for I am his slave.’</p>
<p>But the leper entreated him, and prayed of him, till the Star-Child
had pity, and gave him the piece of white gold.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>And when he came to the Magician’s house, the Magician opened
to him, and brought him in, and said to him, ‘Hast thou the piece
of white gold?’ And the Star-Child answered, ‘I have
it not.’ So the Magician fell upon him, and beat him, and
set before him an empty trencher, and said, ‘Eat,’ and an
empty cup, and said, ‘Drink,’ and flung him again into the
dungeon.</p>
<p>And on the morrow the Magician came to him, and said, ‘If to-day
thou bringest me not the piece of yellow gold, I will surely keep thee
as my slave, and give thee three hundred stripes.’</p>
<p>So the Star-Child went to the wood, and all day long he searched
for the piece of yellow gold, but nowhere could he find it. And
at sunset he sat him down and began to weep, and as he was weeping there
came to him the little Hare that he had rescued from the trap,</p>
<p>And the Hare said to him, ‘Why art thou weeping? And
what dost thou seek in the wood?’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child answered, ‘I am seeking for a piece of yellow
gold that is hidden here, and if I find it not my master will beat me,
and keep me as a slave.’</p>
<p>‘Follow me,’ cried the Hare, and it ran through the wood
till it came to a pool of water. And at the bottom of the pool
the piece of yellow gold was lying.</p>
<p>‘How shall I thank thee?’ said the Star-Child, ‘for
lo! this is the second time that you have succoured me.’</p>
<p>‘Nay, but thou hadst pity on me first,’ said the Hare,
and it ran away swiftly.</p>
<p>And the Star-Child took the piece of yellow gold, and put it in his
wallet, and hurried to the city. But the leper saw him coming,
and ran to meet him, and knelt down and cried, ‘Give me a piece
of money or I shall die of hunger.’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child said to him, ‘I have in my wallet but one
piece of yellow gold, and if I bring it not to my master he will beat
me and keep me as his slave.’</p>
<p>But the leper entreated him sore, so that the Star-Child had pity
on him, and gave him the piece of yellow gold.</p>
<p>And when he came to the Magician’s house, the Magician opened
to him, and brought him in, and said to him, ‘Hast thou the piece
of yellow gold?’ And the Star-Child said to him, ‘I
have it not.’ So the Magician fell upon him, and beat him,
and loaded him with chains, and cast him again into the dungeon.</p>
<p>And on the morrow the Magician came to him, and said, ‘If to-day
thou bringest me the piece of red gold I will set thee free, but if
thou bringest it not I will surely slay thee.’</p>
<p>So the Star-Child went to the wood, and all day long he searched
for the piece of red gold, but nowhere could he find it. And at
evening he sat him down and wept, and as he was weeping there came to
him the little Hare.</p>
<p>And the Hare said to him, ‘The piece of red gold that thou
seekest is in the cavern that is behind thee. Therefore weep no
more but be glad.’</p>
<p>‘How shall I reward thee?’ cried the Star-Child, ‘for
lo! this is the third time thou hast succoured me.’</p>
<p>‘Nay, but thou hadst pity on me first,’ said the Hare,
and it ran away swiftly.</p>
<p>And the Star-Child entered the cavern, and in its farthest corner
he found the piece of red gold. So he put it in his wallet, and
hurried to the city. And the leper seeing him coming, stood in
the centre of the road, and cried out, and said to him, ‘Give
me the piece of red money, or I must die,’ and the Star-Child
had pity on him again, and gave him the piece of red gold, saying, ‘Thy
need is greater than mine.’ Yet was his heart heavy, for
he knew what evil fate awaited him.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
<p>But lo! as he passed through the gate of the city, the guards bowed
down and made obeisance to him, saying, ‘How beautiful is our
lord!’ and a crowd of citizens followed him, and cried out, ‘Surely
there is none so beautiful in the whole world!’ so that the Star-Child
wept, and said to himself, ‘They are mocking me, and making light
of my misery.’ And so large was the concourse of the people,
that he lost the threads of his way, and found himself at last in a
great square, in which there was a palace of a King.</p>
<p>And the gate of the palace opened, and the priests and the high officers
of the city ran forth to meet him, and they abased themselves before
him, and said, ‘Thou art our lord for whom we have been waiting,
and the son of our King.’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child answered them and said, ‘I am no king’s
son, but the child of a poor beggar-woman. And how say ye that
I am beautiful, for I know that I am evil to look at?’</p>
<p>Then he, whose armour was inlaid with gilt flowers, and on whose
helmet crouched a lion that had wings, held up a shield, and cried,
‘How saith my lord that he is not beautiful?’</p>
<p>And the Star-Child looked, and lo! his face was even as it had been,
and his comeliness had come back to him, and he saw that in his eyes
which he had not seen there before.</p>
<p>And the priests and the high officers knelt down and said to him,
‘It was prophesied of old that on this day should come he who
was to rule over us. Therefore, let our lord take this crown and
this sceptre, and be in his justice and mercy our King over us.’</p>
<p>But he said to them, ‘I am not worthy, for I have denied the
mother who bare me, nor may I rest till I have found her, and known
her forgiveness. Therefore, let me go, for I must wander again
over the world, and may not tarry here, though ye bring me the crown
and the sceptre.’ And as he spake he turned his face from
them towards the street that led to the gate of the city, and lo! amongst
the crowd that pressed round the soldiers, he saw the beggar-woman who
was his mother, and at her side stood the leper, who had sat by the
road.</p>
<p>And a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he ran over, and kneeling
down he kissed the wounds on his mother’s feet, and wet them with
his tears. He bowed his head in the dust, and sobbing, as one
whose heart might break, he said to her: ‘Mother, I denied thee
in the hour of my pride. Accept me in the hour of my humility.
Mother, I gave thee hatred. Do thou give me love. Mother,
I rejected thee. Receive thy child now.’ But the beggar-woman
answered him not a word.</p>
<p>And he reached out his hands, and clasped the white feet of the leper,
and said to him: ‘Thrice did I give thee of my mercy. Bid
my mother speak to me once.’ But the leper answered him
not a word.</p>
<p>And he sobbed again and said: ‘Mother, my suffering is greater
than I can bear. Give me thy forgiveness, and let me go back to
the forest.’ And the beggar-woman put her hand on his head,
and said to him, ‘Rise,’ and the leper put his hand on his
head, and said to him, ‘Rise,’ also.</p>
<p>And he rose up from his feet, and looked at them, and lo! they were
a King and a Queen.</p>
<p>And the Queen said to him, ‘This is thy father whom thou hast
succoured.’</p>
<p>And the King said, ‘This is thy mother whose feet thou hast
washed with thy tears.’ And they fell on his neck and kissed
him, and brought him into the palace and clothed him in fair raiment,
and set the crown upon his head, and the sceptre in his hand, and over
the city that stood by the river he ruled, and was its lord. Much
justice and mercy did he show to all, and the evil Magician he banished,
and to the Woodcutter and his wife he sent many rich gifts, and to their
children he gave high honour. Nor would he suffer any to be cruel
to bird or beast, but taught love and loving-kindness and charity, and
to the poor he gave bread, and to the naked he gave raiment, and there
was peace and plenty in the land.</p>
<p>Yet ruled he not long, so great had been his suffering, and so bitter
the fire of his testing, for after the space of three years he died.
And he who came after him ruled evilly.</p>
<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
<p>End of the Project Gutenberg eBook A House of Pomegranates</p>
<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES ***</p>
<pre>
******This file should be named hpomg10h.htm or hpomg10h.zip******
Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, hpomg11h.htm
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hpomg10ah.htm
Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
even years after the official publication date.
Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.
Most people start at our Web sites at:
http://gutenberg.net or
http://promo.net/pg
These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).
Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.
http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04 or
ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext04
Or /etext03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90
Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.
Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):
eBooks Year Month
1 1971 July
10 1991 January
100 1994 January
1000 1997 August
1500 1998 October
2000 1999 December
2500 2000 December
3000 2001 November
4000 2001 October/November
6000 2002 December*
9000 2003 November*
10000 2004 January*
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.
We need your donations more than ever!
As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.
We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.
As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.
In answer to various questions we have received on this:
We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and
you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
just ask.
While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
donate.
International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.
Donations by check or money order may be sent to:
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739 University Ave.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109
Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
method other than by check or money order.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are
tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising
requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.
We need your donations more than ever!
You can get up to date donation information online at:
http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html
***
If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:
Michael S. Hart hart@pobox.com
Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.
We would prefer to send you information by email.
**The Legal Small Print**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.
To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word
processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to
let us know your plans and to work out the details.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.
The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox.com
[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
they hardware or software or any other related product without
express permission.]
*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*
</pre></body>
</html>
|
