Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who loved each other dearly, and would have been perfectly happy if they had only had a little son or daughter to play with. They never talked about it, and always pretended that there was nothing in the world to wish for; but, sometimes when they looked at other people’s children, their faces grew sad, and their courtiers and attendants knew the reason why.

One day the queen was sitting alone by the side of a waterfall which sprung from some rocks in the large park adjoining the castle. She was feeling more than usually miserable, and had sent away her ladies so that no one might witness her grief. Suddenly she heard a rustling movement in the pool below the waterfall, and, on glancing up, she saw a large crab climbing on to a stone beside her.

‘Great queen,’ said the crab, ‘I am here to tell you that the desire of your heart will soon be granted. But first you must permit me to lead you to the palace of the fairies, which, though hard by, has never been seen by mortal eyes because of the thick clouds that surround it. When there you will know more; that is, if you will trust yourself to me.’

The queen had never before heard an animal speak, and was struck dumb with surprise. However, she was so enchanted at the words of the crab that she smiled sweetly and held out her hand; it was taken, not by the crab, which had stood there only a moment before, but by a little old woman smartly dressed in white and crimson with green ribbons in her grey hair. And, wonderful to say, not a drop of water fell from her clothes.

The old woman ran lightly down a path along which the queen had been a hundred times before, but it seemed so different she could hardly believe it was the same. Instead of having to push her way through nettles and brambles, roses and jasmine hung about her head, while under her feet the ground was sweet with violets. The orange trees were so tall and thick that, even at mid-day, the sun was never too hot, and at the end of the path was a glimmer of something so dazzling that the queen had to shade her eyes, and peep at it only between her fingers.

‘What can it be?’ she asked, turning to her guide; who answered:

‘Oh, that is the fairies’ palace, and here are some of them coming to meet us.’

As she spoke the gates swung back and six fairies approached, each bearing in her hand a flower made of precious stones, but so like a real one that it was only by touching you could tell the difference.

‘Madam,’ they said, ‘we know not how to thank you for this mark of your confidence, but have the happiness to tell you that in a short time you will have a little daughter.’

The queen was so enchanted at this news that she nearly fainted with joy; but when she was able to speak, she poured out all her gratitude to the fairies for their promised gift.

‘And now,’ she said, ‘I ought not to stay any longer, for my husband will think that I have run away, or that some evil beast has devoured me.’

In a little while it happened just as the fairies had foretold, and a baby girl was born in the palace. Of course both the king and queen were delighted, and the child was called Desiree, which means ‘desired,’ for she had been ‘desired’ for five years before her birth.

At first the queen could think of nothing but her new plaything, but then she remembered the fairies who had sent it to her. Bidding her ladies bring her the posy of jewelled flowers which had been given her at the palace, she took each flower in her hand and called it by name, and, in turn, each fairy appeared before her. But, as unluckily often happens, the one to whom she owed the most, the crab-fairy, was forgotten, and by this, as in the case of other babies you have read about, much mischief was wrought.

However, for the moment all was gaiety in the palace, and everybody inside ran to the windows to watch the fairies’ carriages, for no two were alike. One had a car of ebony, drawn by white pigeons, another was lying back in her ivory chariot, driving ten black crows, while the rest had chosen rare woods or many-coloured sea-shells, with scarlet and blue macaws, long-tailed peacocks, or green love-birds for horses. These carriages were only used on occasions of state, for when they went to war flying dragons, fiery serpents, lions or leopards, took the place of the beautiful birds.

The fairies entered the queen’s chamber followed by little dwarfs who carried their presents and looked much prouder than their mistresses. One by one their burdens were spread upon the ground, and no one had ever seen such lovely things. Everything that a baby could possibly wear or play with was there, and besides, they had other and more precious gifts to give her, which only children who have fairies for godmothers can ever hope to possess.

They were all gathered round the heap of pink cushions on which the baby lay asleep, when a shadow seemed to fall between them and the sun, while a cold wind blew through the room. Everybody looked up, and there was the crab-fairy, who had grown as tall as the ceiling in her anger.

‘So I am forgotten!’ cried she, in a voice so loud that the queen trembled as she heard it. ‘Who was it soothed you in your trouble? Who was it led you to the fairies? Who was it brought you back in safety to your home again? Yet I—I—am overlooked, while these who have done nothing in comparison, are petted and thanked.’

The queen, almost dumb with terror, in vain tried to think of some explanation or apology; but there was none, and she could only confess her fault and implore forgiveness. The fairies also did their best to soften the wrath of their sister, and knowing that, like many plain people who are not fairies, she was very vain, they entreated her to drop her crab’s disguise, and to become once more the charming person they were accustomed to see.

For some time the enraged fairy would listen to nothing; but at length the flatteries began to take effect. The crab’s shell fell from her, she shrank into her usual size, and lost some of her fierce expression.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I will not cause the princess’s death, as I had meant to do, but at the same time she will have to bear the punishment of her mother’s fault, as many other children have done before her. The sentence I pass upon her is, that if she is allowed to see one ray of daylight before her fifteenth birthday she will rue it bitterly, and it may perhaps cost her her life.’ And with these words she vanished by the window through which she came, while the fairies comforted the weeping queen and took counsel how best the princess might be kept safe during her childhood.

At the end of half an hour they had made up their minds what to do, and at the command of the fairies, a beautiful palace sprang up, close to that of the king and queen, but different from every palace in the world in having no windows, and only a door right under the earth. However, once within, daylight was hardly missed, so brilliant were the multitudes of tapers that were burning on the walls.

Now up to this time the princess’s history has been like the history of many a princess that you have read about; but, when the period of her imprisonment was nearly over, her fortunes took another turn. For almost fifteen years the fairies had taken care of her, and amused her and taught her, so that when she came into the world she might be no whit behind the daughters of other kings in all that makes a princess charming and accomplished. They all loved her dearly, but the fairy Tulip loved her most of all; and as the princess’s fifteenth birthday drew near, the fairy began to tremble lest something terrible should happen—some accident which had not been foreseen. ‘Do not let her out of your sight,’ said Tulip to the queen, ‘and meanwhile, let her portrait be painted and carried to the neighbouring Courts, as is the custom in order that the kings may see how far her beauty exceeds that of every other princess, and that they may demand her in marriage for their sons.’

And so it was done; and as the fairy had prophesied, all the young princes fell in love with the picture; but the last one to whom it was shown could think of nothing else, and refused to let it be removed from his chamber, where he spent whole days gazing at it.

The king his father was much surprised at the change which had come over his son, who generally passed all his time in hunting or hawking, and his anxiety was increased by a conversation he overheard between two of his courtiers that they feared the prince must be going out of his mind, so moody had he become. Without losing a moment the king went to visit his son, and no sooner had he entered the room than the young man flung himself at his father’s feet. ‘You have betrothed me already to a bride I can never love!’ cried he; ‘but if you will not consent to break off the match, and ask for the hand of the princess Desiree, I shall die of misery, thankful to be alive no longer.’

These words much displeased the king, who felt that, in breaking off the marriage already arranged he would almost certainly be bringing on his subjects a long and bloody war; so, without answering, he turned away, hoping that a few days might bring his son to reason. But the prince’s condition grew rapidly so much worse that the king, in despair, promised to send an embassy at once to Desiree’s father.

This news cured the young man in an instant of all his ills; and he began to plan out every detail of dress and of horses and carriages which were necessary to make the train of the envoy, whose name was Becasigue, as splendid as possible. He longed to form part of the embassy himself, if only in the disguise of a page; but this the king would not allow, and so the prince had to content himself with searching the kingdom for everything that was rare and beautiful to send to the princess. Indeed, he arrived, just as the embassy was starting, with his portrait, which had been painted in secret by the court painter.

The king and queen wished for nothing better than that their daughter marry into such a great and powerful family, and received the ambassador with every sign of welcome. They even wished him to see the princess Desiree, but this was prevented by the fairy Tulip, who feared some ill might come of it.

‘And be sure you tell him,’ added she, ‘that the marriage cannot be celebrated till she is fifteen years old, or else some terrible misfortune will happen to the child.’

So when Becasigue, surround by his train, made a formal request that the princess Desiree might be given in marriage to his master’s son, the king replied that he was much honoured, and would gladly give his consent; but that no one could even see the princess till her fifteenth birthday, as the spell laid upon her in her cradle by a spiteful fairy, would not cease to work till that was past. The ambassador was greatly surprised and disappointed, but he knew too much about fairies to venture to disobey them, therefore he had to content himself with presenting the prince’s portrait to the queen, who lost no time in carrying it to the princess. As the girl took it in her hands it suddenly spoke, as it had been taught to do, and uttered a compliment of the most delicate and charming sort, which made the princess flush with pleasure.

‘How would you like to have a husband like that?’ asked the queen, laughing.

‘As if I knew anything about husbands!’ replied Desiree, who had long ago guessed the business of the ambassador.

‘Well, he will be your husband in three months,’ answered the queen, ordering the prince’s presents to be brought in. The princess was very pleased with them, and admired them greatly, but the queen noticed that all the while her eyes constantly strayed from the softest silks and most brilliant jewels to the portrait of the prince.

The ambassador, finding that there was no hope of his being allowed to see the princess, took his leave, and returned to his own court; but here a new difficulty appeared. The prince, though transported with joy at the thought that Desiree was indeed to be his bride, was bitterly disappointed that she had not been allowed to return with Becasigue, as he had foolishly expected; and never having been taught to deny himself anything or to control his feelings, he fell as ill as he had done before. He would eat nothing nor take pleasure in anything, but lay all day on a heap of cushions, gazing at the picture of the princess.

‘If I have to wait three months before I can marry the princess I shall die!’ was all this spoilt boy would say; and at length the king, in despair, resolved to send a fresh embassy to Desiree’s father to implore him to permit the marriage to be celebrated at once. ‘I would have presented my prayer in person, he added in his letter, ‘but my great age and infirmities do not suffer me to travel; however my envoy has orders to agree to any arrangement that you may propose.’

On his arrival at the palace Becasigue pleaded his young master’s cause as fervently as the king his father could have done, and entreated that the princess might be consulted in the matter. The queen hastened to the marble tower, and told her daughter of the sad state of the prince. Desiree sank down fainting at the news, but soon came to herself again, and set about inventing a plan which would enable her to go to the prince without risking the doom pronounced over her by the wicked fairy.

‘I see!’ she exclaimed joyfully at last. ‘Let a carriage be built through which no light can come, and let it be brought into my room. I will then get into it, and we can travel swiftly during the night and arrive before dawn at the palace of the prince. Once there, I can remain in some underground chamber, where no light can come.’

‘Ah, how clever you are,’ cried the queen, clasping her in her arms. And she hurried away to tell the king.

‘What a wife our prince will have!’ said Becasigue bowing low; ‘but I must hasten back with the tidings, and to prepare the underground chamber for the princess.’ And so he took his leave.

In a few days the carriage commanded by the princess was ready. It was of green velvet, scattered over with large golden thistles, and lined inside with silver brocade embroidered with pink roses. It had no windows, of course; but the fairy Tulip, whose counsel had been asked, had managed to light it up with a soft glow that came no one knew whither.

It was carried straight up into the great hall of the tower, and the princess stepped into it, followed by her faithful maid of honour, Eglantine, and by her lady in waiting Cerisette, who also had fallen in love with the prince’s portrait and was bitterly jealous of her mistress. The fourth place in the carriage was filled by Cerisette’s mother, who had been sent by the queen to look after the three young people.

Now the Fairy of the Fountain was the godmother of the princess Nera, to whom the prince had been betrothed before the picture of Desiree had made him faithless. She was very angry at the slight put upon her godchild, and from that moment kept careful watch on the princess. In this journey she saw her chance, and it was she who, invisible, sat by Cerisette, and put bad thoughts into the minds of both her and her mother.

The way to the city where the prince lived ran for the most part through a thick forest, and every night when there was no moon, and not a single star could be seen through the trees, the guards who travelled with the princess opened the carriage to give it an airing. This went on for several days, till only twelve hours journey lay between them and the palace. The Cerisette persuaded her mother to cut a great hole in the side of the carriage with a sharp knife which she herself had brought for the purpose. In the forest the darkness was so intense that no one perceived what she had done, but when they left the last trees behind them, and emerged into the open country, the sun was up, and for the first time since her babyhood, Desiree found herself in the light of day.

She looked up in surprise at the dazzling brilliance that streamed through the hole; then gave a sigh which seemed to come from her heart. The carriage door swung back, as if by magic, and a white doe sprang out, and in a moment was lost to sight in the forest. But, quick as she was, Eglantine, her maid of honour, had time to see where she went, and jumped from the carriage in pursuit of her, followed at a distance by the guards.

Cerisette and her mother looked at each other in surprise and joy. They could hardly believe in their good fortune, for everything had happened exactly as they wished. The first thing to be done was to conceal the hole which had been cut, and when this was managed (with the help of the angry fairy, though they did not know it), Cerisette hastened to take off her own clothes, and put on those of the princess, placing the crown of diamonds on her head. She found this heavier than she expected; but then, she had never been accustomed to wear crowns, which makes all the difference.

At the gates of the city the carriage was stopped by a guard of honour sent by the king as an escort to his son’s bride. Though Cerisette and her mother could of course see nothing of what was going on outside, they heard plainly the shouts of welcome from the crowds along the streets.

The carriage stopped at length in the vast hall which Becasigue had prepared for the reception of the princess. The grand chamberlain and the lord high steward were awaiting her, and when the false bride stepped into the brilliantly lighted room, they bowed low, and said they had orders to inform his highness the moment she arrived. The prince, whom the strict etiquette of the court had prevented from being present in the underground hall, was burning with impatience in his own apartments.

‘So she had come!’ cried he, throwing down the bow he had been pretending to mend. ‘Well, was I not right? Is she not a miracle of beauty and grace? And has she her equal in the whole world?’ The ministers looked at each other, and made no reply; till at length the chamberlain, who was the bolder of the two, observed:

‘My lord, as to her beauty, you can judge of that for yourself. No doubt it is as great as you say; but at present it seems to have suffered, as is natural, from the fatigues of the journey.’

This was certainly not what the prince had expected to hear. Could the portrait have flattered her? He had known of such things before, and a cold shiver ran through him; but with an effort he kept silent from further questioning, and only said:

‘Has the king been told that the princess is in the palace?’

‘Yes, highness; and he has probably already joined her.’

‘Then I will go too,’ said the prince.

Weak as he was from his long illness, the prince descended the staircase, supported by the ministers, and entered the room just in time to hear his father’s loud cry of astonishment and disgust at the sight of Cerisette.

‘There was been treachery at work,’ he exclaimed, while the prince leant, dumb with horror, against the doorpost. But the lady in waiting, who had been prepared for something of the sort, advanced, holding in her hand the letters which the king and queen had entrusted to her.

‘This is the princess Desiree,’ said she, pretending to have heard nothing, ‘and I have the honour to present to you these letters from my liege lord and lady, together with the casket containing the princess’ jewels.’

The king did not move or answer her; so the prince, leaning on the arm of Becasigue, approached a little closer to the false princess, hoping against hope that his eyes had deceived him. But the longer he looked the more he agreed with his father that there was treason somewhere, for in no single respect did the portrait resemble the woman before him. Cerisette was so tall that the dress of the princess did not reach her ankles, and so thin that her bones showed through the stuff. Besides that her nose was hooked, and her teeth black and ugly.

In his turn, the prince stood rooted to the spot. At last he spoke, and his words were addressed to his father, and not to the bride who had come so far to marry him.

‘We have been deceived,’ he said, ‘and it will cost me my life.’ And he leaned so heavily on the envoy that Becasigue feared he was going to faint, and hastily laid him on the floor. For some minutes no one could attend to anybody but the prince; but as soon as he revived the lady in waiting made herself heard.

‘Oh, my lovely princess, why did we ever leave home?’ cried she. ‘But the king your father will avenge the insults that have been heaped on you when we tell him how you have been treated.’

‘I will tell him myself,’ replied the king in wrath; ‘he promised me a wonder of beauty, he has sent me a skeleton! I am not surprised that he has kept her for fifteen years hidden away from the eyes of the world. Take them both away,’ he continued, turning to his guards, ‘and lodge them in the state prison. There is something more I have to learn of this matter.’

His orders were obeyed, and the prince, loudly bewailing his sad fate, was led back to bed, where for many days he lay in a high fever. At length he slowly began to gain strength, but his sorrow was still so great that he could not bear the sight of a strange face, and shuddered at the notion of taking his proper part in the court ceremonies. Unknown to the king, or to anybody but Becasigue, he planned that, as soon as he was able, he would make his escape and pass the rest of his life alone in some solitary place. It was some weeks before he had regained his health sufficiently to carry out his design; but finally, one beautiful starlight night, the two friends stole away, and when the king woke next morning he found a letter lying by his bed, saying that his son had gone, he knew not whither. He wept bitter tears at the news, for he loved the prince dearly; but he felt that perhaps the young man had done wisely, and he trusted to time and Becasigue’s influence to bring the wanderer home.

And while these things were happening, what had become of the white doe? Though when she sprang from the carriage she was aware that some unkind fate had changed her into an animal, yet, till she saw herself in a stream, she had no idea what it was.

‘Is it really, I, Desiree?’ she said to herself, weeping. ‘What wicked fairy can have treated me so; and shall I never, never take my own shape again? My only comfort that, in this great forest, full of lions and serpents, my life will be a short one.’

Now the fairy Tulip was as much grieved at the sad fate of the princess as Desiree’s own mother could have been if she had known of it. Still, she could not help feeling that if the king and queen had listened to her advice the girl would by this time be safely in the walls of her new home. However, she loved Desiree too much to let her suffer more than could be helped, and it was she who guided Eglantine to the place where the white doe was standing, cropping the grass which was her dinner.

At the sound of footsteps the pretty creature lifted her head, and when she saw her faithful companion approaching she bounded towards her, and rubbed her head on Eglantine’s shoulder. The maid of honour was surprised; but she was fond of animals, and stroked the white doe tenderly, speaking gently to her all the while. Suddenly the beautiful creature lifted her head, and looked up into Eglantine’s face, with tears streaming from her eyes. A thought flashed through her mind, and quick as lightning the girl flung herself on her knees, and lifting the animal’s feet kissed them one by one. ‘My princess! O my dear princess!’ cried she; and again the white doe rubbed her head against her, for thought the spiteful fairy had taken away her power of speech, she had not deprived her of her reason!

All day long the two remained together, and when Eglantine grew hungry she was led by the white doe to a part of the forest where pears and peaches grew in abundance; but, as night came on, the maid of honour was filled with the terrors of wild beasts which had beset the princess during her first night in the forest.

‘Is there no hut or cave we could go into?’ asked she. But the doe only shook her head; and the two sat down and wept with fright.

The fairy Tulip, who, in spite of her anger, was very soft-hearted, was touched at their distress, and flew quickly to their help.

‘I cannot take away the spell altogether,’ she said, ‘for the Fairy of the Fountain is stronger than I; but I can shorten the time of your punishment, and am able to make it less hard, for as soon as darkness fall you shall resume your own shape.’

To think that by-and-by she would cease to be a white doe—indeed, that she would at once cease to be one during the night—was for the present joy enough for Desiree, and she skipped about on the grass in the prettiest manner.

‘Go straight down the path in front of you,’ continued the fairy, smiling as she watched her; ‘go straight down the path and you will soon reach a little hut where you will find shelter.’ And with these words she vanished, leaving her hearers happier than they ever thought they could be again.

An old woman was standing at the door of the hut when Eglantine drew near, with the white doe trotting by her side.

‘Good evening!’ she said; ‘could you give me a night’s lodging for myself and my doe?’

‘Certainly I can,’ replied the old woman. And she led them into a room with two little white beds, so clean and comfortable that it made you sleepy even to look at them.

The door had hardly closed behind the old woman when the sun sank below the horizon, and Desiree became a girl again.

‘Oh, Eglantine! what should I have done if you had not followed me,’ she cried. And she flung herself into her friend’s arms in a transport of delight.

Early in the morning Eglantine was awakened by the sound of someone scratching at the door, and on opening her eyes she saw the white doe struggling to get out. The little creature looked up and into her face, and nodded her head as the maid of honour unfastened the latch, but bounded away into the woods, and was lost to sight in a moment.

Meanwhile, the prince and Becasigue were wandering through the wood, till at last the prince grew so tired, that he lay down under a tree, and told Becasigue that he had better go in search of food, and of some place where they could sleep. Becasigue had not gone very far, when a turn of the path brought him face to face with the old woman who was feeding her doves before her cottage.

‘Could you give me some milk and fruit?’ asked he. ‘I am very hungry myself, and, besides, I have left a friend behind me who is still weak from illness.’

‘Certainly I can,’ answered the old woman. ‘But come and sit down in my kitchen while I catch the goat and milk it.’

Becasigue was glad enough to do as he was bid, and in a few minutes the old woman returned with a basket brimming over with oranges and grapes.

‘If your friend has been ill he should not pass the night in the forest,’ said she. ‘I have room in my hut—tiny enough, it is true; but better than nothing, and to that you are both heartily welcome.’

Becasigue thanked her warmly, and as by this time it was almost sunset, he set out to fetch the prince. It was while he was absent that Eglantine and the white doe entered the hut, and having, of course, no idea that in the very next room was the man whose childish impatience had been the cause of all their troubles.

In spite of his fatigue, the prince slept badly, and directly it was light he rose, and bidding Becasigue remain where he was, as he wished to be alone, he strolled out into the forest. He walked on slowly, just as his fancy led him, till, suddenly, he came to a wide open space, and in the middle was the white doe quietly eating her breakfast. She bounded off at the sight of a man, but not before the prince, who had fastened on his bow without thinking, had let fly several arrows, which the fairy Tulip took care should do her no harm. But, quickly as she ran, she soon felt her strength failing her, for fifteen years of life in a tower had not taught her how to exercise her limbs.

Luckily, the prince was too weak to follow her far, and a turn of a path brought her close to the hut, where Eglantine was awaiting her. Panting for breath, she entered their room, and flung herself down on the floor.

When it was dark again, and she was once more the princess Desiree, she told Eglantine what had befallen her.

‘I feared the Fairy of the Fountain, and the cruel beasts,’ said she; ‘but somehow I never thought of the dangers that I ran from men. I do not know now what saved me.’

‘You must stay quietly here till the time of your punishment is over,’ answered Eglantine. But when the morning dawned, and the girl turned into a doe, the longing for the forest came over her, and she sprang away as before.

As soon as the prince was awake he hastened to the place where, only the day before, he had found the white doe feeding; but of course she had taken care to go in the opposite direction. Much disappointed, he tried first one green path and then another, and at last, wearied with walking, he threw himself down and went fast asleep.

Just at this moment the white doe sprang out of a thicket near by, and started back trembling when she beheld her enemy lying there. Yet, instead of turning to fly, something bade her go and look at him unseen. As she gazed a thrill ran through her, for she felt that, worn and wasted though he was by illness, it was the face of her destined husband. Gently stooping over him she kissed his forehead, and at her touch he awoke.

For a minute they looked at each other, and to his amazement he recognized the white doe which had escaped him the previous day. But in an instant the animal was aroused to a sense of her danger, and she fled with all her strength into the thickest part of the forest. Quick as lightning the prince was on her track, but this time it was with no wish to kill or even wound the beautiful creature.

‘Pretty doe! pretty doe! stop! I won’t hurt you,’ cried he, but his words were carried away by the wind.

At length the doe could run no more, and when the prince reached her, she was lying stretched out on the grass, waiting for her death blow. But instead the prince knelt at her side, and stroked her, and bade her fear nothing, as he would take care of her. So he fetched a little water from the stream in his horn hunting cup, then, cutting some branches from the trees, he twisted them into a litter which he covered with moss, and laid the white doe gently on it.

For a long time they remained thus, but when Desiree saw by the way that the light struck the trees, that he sun must be near its setting, she was filled with alarm lest the darkness should fall, and the prince should behold her in her human shape.

‘No, he must not see me for the first time here,’ she thought, and instantly began to plan how to get rid of him. Then she opened her mouth and let her tongue hang out, as if she were dying of thirst, and the prince, as she expected, hastened to the stream to get her some more water.

When he returned, the white doe was gone.

That night Desiree confessed to Eglantine that her pursuer was no other than the prince, and that far from flattering him, the portrait had never done him justice.

‘Is it not hard to meet him in this shape,’ wept she, ‘when we both love each other so much?’ But Eglantine comforted her, and reminded her that in a short time all would be well.

The prince was very angry at the flight of the white doe, for whom he had taken so much trouble, and returning to the cottage he poured out his adventures and his wrath to Becasigue, who could not help smiling.

‘She shall not escape me again,’ cried the prince. ‘If I hunt her every day for a year, I will have her at last.’ And in this frame of mind he went to bed.

When the white doe entered the forest next morning, she had not made up her mind whether she would go and meet the prince, or whether she would shun him, and hide in thickets of which he knew nothing. She decided that the last plan was the best; and so it would have been if the prince had not taken the very same direction in search of her.

Quite by accident he caught sight of her white skin shining through the bushes, and at the same instant she heard a twig snap under his feet. In a moment she was up and away, but the prince, not knowing how else to capture her, aimed an arrow at her leg, which brought her to the ground.

The young man felt like a murderer as he ran hastily up to where the white doe lay, and did his best to soothe the pain she felt, which, in reality, was the last part of the punishment sent by the Fairy of the Fountain. First he brought her some water, and then he fetched some healing herbs, and having crushed them in his hand, laid them on the wound.

‘Ah! what a wretch I was to have hurt you,’ cried he, resting her head upon his knees; ‘and now you will hate me and fly from me for ever!’

For some time the doe lay quietly where she was, but, as before, she remembered that the hour of her transformation was near. She struggled to her feet, but the prince would not hear of her walking, and thinking the old woman might be able to dress her wound better than he could, he took her in his arms to carry her back to the hut. But, small as she was, she made herself so heavy that, after staggering a few steps under her weight, he laid her down, and tied her fast to a tree with some of the ribbons of his hat. This done he went away to get help.

Meanwhile Eglantine had grown very uneasy at the long absence of her mistress, and had come out to look for her. Just as the prince passed out of sight the fluttering ribbons dance before her eyes, and she descried her beautiful princess bound to a tree. With all her might she worked at the knots, but not a single one could she undo, though all appeared so easy. She was still busy with them when a voice behind her said:

‘Pardon me, fair lady, but it is MY doe you are trying to steal!’

‘Excuse me, good knight’ answered Eglantine, hardly glancing at him, ‘but it is MY doe that is tied up here! And if you wish for a proof of it, you can see if she knows me or not. Touch my heart, my little one,’ she continued, dropping on her knees. And the doe lifted up its fore-foot and laid it on her side. ‘Now put your arms round my neck, and sigh.’ And again the doe did as she was bid.

‘You are right,’ said the prince; ‘but it is with sorrow I give her up to you, for though I have wounded her yet I love her deeply.’

To this Eglantine answered nothing; but carefully raising up the doe, she led her slowly to the hut.

Now both the prince and Becasigue were quite unaware that the old woman had any guests besides themselves, and, following afar, were much surprised to behold Eglantine and her charge enter the cottage. They lost no time in questioning the old woman, who replied that she knew nothing about the lady and her white doe, who slept next the chamber occupied by the prince and his friend, but that they were very quiet, and paid her well. Then she went back to her kitchen.

‘Do you know,’ said Becasigue, when they were alone, ‘I am certain that the lady we saw is the maid of honour to the Princess Desiree, whom I met at the palace. And, as her room is next to this, it will be easy to make a small hole through which I can satisfy myself whether I am right or not.’

So, taking a knife out of his pocket, he began to saw away the woodwork. The girls heard the grating noise, but fancying it was a mouse, paid no attention, and Becasigue was left in peace to pursue his work. At length the hole was large enough for him to peep through, and the sight was one to strike him dumb with amazement. He had guessed truly: the tall lady was Eglantine herself; but the other—where had he seen her? Ah! now he knew—it was the lady of the portrait!

Desiree, in a flowing dress of green silk, was lying stretched out upon cushions, and as Eglantine bent over her to bathe the wounded leg, she began to talk:

‘Oh! let me die,’ cried she, ‘rather than go on leading this life. You cannot tell the misery of being a beast all the day, and unable to speak to the man I love, to whose impatience I owe my cruel fate. Yet, even so, I cannot bring myself to hate him.’

These words, low though they were spoken, reached Becasigue, who could hardly believe his ears. He stood silent for a moment; then, crossing to the window out of which the prince was gazing, he took his arm and led him across the room. A single glance was sufficient to show the prince that it was indeed Desiree; and how another had come to the palace bearing her name, at that instant he neither knew nor cared. Stealing on tip-toe from the room, he knocked at the next door, which was opened by Eglantine, who thought it was the old woman bearing their supper.

She started back at the sight of the prince, whom this time she also recognised. But he thrust her aside, and flung himself at the feet of Desiree, to whom he poured out all his heart!

Dawn found them still conversing; and the sun was high in the heavens before the princess perceived that she retained her human form. Ah! how happy she was when she knew that the days of her punishment were over; and with a glad voice she told the prince the tale of her enchantment.

So the story ended well after all; and the fairy Tulip, who turned out to be the old woman of the hut, made the young couple such a wedding feast as had never been seen since the world began. And everybody was delighted, except Cerisette and her mother, who were put in a boat and carried to a small island, where they had to work hard for their living.

Let’s Talk About the Fairy Tale: Discussion Guide for Kids

Love

1. Do you think the Prince and Princess truly love each other? Why or why not?

Friendship

2. Do you think Becasigue is a good friend to the Prince? What makes a good friend, in your opinion?

French Fairy Tale by Countess d’Aulnoy

The post The White Doe first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there was a king’s daughter, who was so handsome, there was nothing in the world to be compared with her for beauty, and she was called the Fair with Golden Hair: because her locks were like the finest gold, marvellously bright, and falling all in ringlets to her feet. She always appeared with her hair flowing in curls about her, crowned with flowers, and her dresses embroidered with diamonds and pearls. However it might be, it was impossible to see her without loving her.

There was a young king amongst her neighbours, who was unmarried, very handsome, and very rich. When he heard all that was said about the Fair with Golden Hair, although he had never seen her, he felt so deeply in love with her, that he could neither eat nor drink, and therefore resolved to send an ambassador to ask her hand in marriage.

He had a magnificent coach made for this ambassador, gave him upwards of a hundred horses and as many servants, and charged him particularly not to return without the princess. From the moment that the envoy had taken leave of the king, the whole court talked of nothing else; and the king, who never doubted that the Fair with Golden Hair would consent to his proposal, ordered immediately fine dresses and splendid furniture to be prepared for her.

While the workmen were hard at work, the ambassador arrived at the Fair one’s court and delivered his little message; but whether she was that day out of temper, or that the compliment was not agreeable to her, she answered the ambassador, that she thanked the king, but had no inclination to marry. The ambassador quitted the court of the princess very low-spirited at not being able to bring her with him. He carried back all the presents he had been the bearer of from the king, for the princess was very prudent, and was perfectly aware that young ladies should never receive gifts from bachelors; so she declined accepting the beautiful diamonds and the other valuable articles, and only retained, in order not to affront the king, a quarter of a pound of English pins.

When the ambassador reached the capital city of the king, where he was so impatiently awaited, everybody was afflicted that he did not bring back with him the Fair with Golden Hair, and the king began to cry like a child. They endeavoured to console him, but without the least success.

There was a youth at court who was as beautiful as the sun, and had the finest figure in the kingdom. On account of his graceful manners and his intelligence he was called Avenant. Everybody loved him, except the envious, who were vexed that the king conferred favours upon him and daily confided to him his affairs.

Avenant was in company with some persons who were talking of the return of the ambassador, and saying he had done no good. “If the king had sent me to the Fair with Golden Hair,” said he to them carelessly, “I am certain she would have returned with me.” These mischief-makers went immediately to the king, and said, “Sire, you know not what Avenant asserts,—That if you had sent him to the Fair with Golden Hair he would have brought her back with him. Observe his malice! He pretends that he is handsomer than you, and that she would have been so fond of him that she would have followed him anywhere.”

At this the king flew into a rage—a rage so terrible, that he was quite beside himself. “Ha, ha!” he cried, “this pretty minion laughs at my misfortune, and values himself above me! Go!—fling him into the great tower, and let him starve to death!”

The royal guards hastened in search of Avenant, who had quite forgotten what he had said. They dragged him to prison, inflicting a thousand injuries upon him. The poor youth had only a little straw to lie upon, and would soon have perished but for a tiny spring that trickled through the foundations of the tower, and of which he drank a few drops to refresh himself, his mouth being parched with thirst.

One day, when he was quite exhausted, he exclaimed, with a heavy sigh, “What does the king complain of? He has not a subject more loyal than I am,—I have never done anything to offend him!”

The king by chance passed close by the tower, and hearing the voice of one he had loved so dearly, he stopped to listen, notwithstanding those who were with him, who hated Avenant, and said to the king, “What interests you, Sire?—Do you not know he is a rogue?”

The king replied, “Leave me alone; I would hear what he has to say.”

Having listened to his complaints, the tears stood in his eyes: he opened the door of the tower and called to the prisoner. Avenant came, and knelt before him in deep sorrow, and kissed his feet.

“What have I done, Sire, that I am thus severely treated?”

“You have made game of me, and of my ambassador,” answered the king. “You have boasted, that if I had sent you to the Fair with Golden Hair, you would certainly have brought her back with you.”

“It is true, Sire,” rejoined Avenant, “that I should have so impressed her with the sense of your majesty’s high qualities, that I feel persuaded she could not have refused you; and in saying that, Sire, I uttered nothing that could be disagreeable to you.”

The king saw clearly that Avenant was innocent. He cast an angry look upon the people who had undermined his favourite, and brought him away with him, sincerely repenting the wrong he had done to him.

After giving him an excellent supper he called him into his cabinet and said to him: “Avenant, I still love the Fair with Golden Hair; her refusal has not discouraged me: but I know not what course to take to induce her to marry me. I am tempted to send you to her to see if you could succeed.”

Avenant replied that he was ready to obey him in everything, and that he would set out the next day.

“Hold,” said the king; “I would give you a splendid team.”

“It is unnecessary,” answered Avenant; “I need only a good horse, and letters of credence from your majesty.”

The king embraced him, for he was delighted to find him prepared to start so quickly.

It was on a Monday morning that he took leave of the king and of his friends to proceed on his embassy, quite alone and without pomp or noise. His mind was occupied solely with schemes to induce the Fair with Golden Hair to marry the king. He had a writing-case in his pocket, and when a happy idea occurred to him for his introductory address, he alighted from his steed and seated himself under the trees to commit it to paper, so that he might not forget anything.

The next morning that he had set out at the first peep of day, in passing through a large meadow, a charming idea came into his head: he dismounted, and seated himself beside some willows and poplars which were planted along the bank of a little river that ran by the edge of the meadow. After he had made his note, he looked about him, delighted to find himself in so beautiful a spot.

He perceived on the grass a large gilded carp gasping and nearly exhausted, for in trying to catch some little flies it had leaped so far out of the water that it had fallen on the grass, and was all but dead. Avenant took pity upon it, and, although it was a fast-day, and he might have carried it off for his dinner, he picked it up and put it gently back into the river. As soon as my friend the carp felt the freshness of the water, she began to recover herself, and glided down to the very bottom, then rising again joyously to the bank of the stream,

“Avenant,” said she, “I thank you for the kindness you have done me; but for you I should have died. You have saved me; I will do as much for you.” After this little compliment she darted down again into the water, leaving Avenant much surprised at her intelligence and great civility.

Another day, as he continued his journey, he saw a crow in great distress. The poor bird was pursued by a large eagle (a great devourer of crows), which had nearly caught it, and would have swallowed it like a lentil if Avenant had not felt compassion for its misfortune. “Thus,” he cried, “do the strong oppress the weak. What right has the eagle to eat the crow?”

He seized his bow and arrow, which he always carried with him, and taking a good aim at the eagle, whizz! he sent the shaft right through its body; it fell dead, and the crow, enraptured, came and perched on a tree.

“Avenant,” it cried to him, “it was very generous of you thus to succour me, I who am only a poor crow; but I will not be ungrateful, I will do as much for you.”

Avenant admired the good sense of the crow, and resumed his journey.

Entering a great wood so early in the morning that there was scarcely light enough for him to see his road, he heard an owl screeching, like an owl in despair.

“Hey-day!” said he, “here’s an owl in great affliction. It has been caught, perhaps, in some net.” He searched on all sides, and at last discovered some large nets, which had been spread by fowlers during the night to catch small birds. “What a pity,” said he, “that men are only made to torment each other, or to persecute poor animals which do them no wrong or mischief.” He drew his knife and cut the cords.

The owl took flight: but returning swiftly on the wing,—”Avenant,” it cried, “it is needless for me to make a long speech to enable you to comprehend the obligation I am under to you: it speaks plainly enough for itself. The hunters would soon have been here. I had been taken, I had been dead, but for your assistance. I have a grateful heart; I will do as much for you.”

These were the three most important adventures which befell Avenant on his journey. He was so eager to reach the end of it, that he lost no time in repairing to the palace of the Fair with Golden Hair. Everything about it was admirable. There were diamonds to be seen in heaps, as though they were pebbles. Fine clothes, sweetmeats, money,—the most wonderful sight that ever was seen; and Avenant thought in his heart, if he could persuade the princess to leave all this to go to the king his master, he should be very lucky indeed. He dressed himself in a suit of brocade, with a plume of carnation and white feathers; combed and powdered himself, washed his face, put a richly embroidered scarf round his neck, with a little basket, and in it a beautiful little dog which he had bought as he came through Bologna. Avenant was so handsome, so amiable, and did everything with so much grace, that when he presented himself at the palace gate, the guards saluted him most respectfully, and they ran to inform the Fair with Golden Hair, that Avenant, ambassador from the king, her nearest neighbour, requested to be presented to her.

At the name of Avenant, the princess said, “That betokens something agreeable to me. I would wager he is a pretty fellow, and pleases everybody.” “Yes, in sooth, Madam,” exclaimed all her maids of honour, “We saw him from the loft in which we were dressing your flax, and as long as he remained under the windows we could do no work.”

“Very pretty,” replied the Fair with Golden Hair, “Amusing yourselves with looking at young men!—Here, give me my grand gown of blue embroidered satin, and arrange my fair hair very tastefully; get me some garlands of fresh flowers, my high-heeled shoes, and my fan. Let them sweep my presence-chamber, and dust my throne; for I would have him declare everywhere that I am truly the Fair with Golden Hair.”

All her women hastened to attire her like a queen. They were in such a hurry that they ran against each other, and made scarcely any progress. At length, however, the princess passed into the great gallery of mirrors, to see if anything was wanting, and then ascended her throne of gold, ivory, and ebony, which emitted a perfume like balsam, and commanded her maids of honour to take their instruments, and sing very softly so as not to confuse anyone.

Avenant was ushered into the hall of audience. He was so struck with admiration, that he has since declared frequently that he could scarcely speak; nevertheless, he took courage, and delivered his oration to perfection. He beseeched the princess that he might not have the mortification of returning without her.

“Gentle Avenant,” she replied, “the arguments you have adduced are all of them exceedingly good, and I assure you I should be very happy to favour you more than another, but you must know that about a month ago I was walking by the river side, with all my ladies in waiting, and in pulling off my glove in order to take some refreshment that was served me I drew from my finger a ring, which unfortunately fell into the stream. I valued it more than my kingdom. I leave you to imagine the grief its loss occasioned me. I have made a vow never to listen to any offers of marriage, if the ambassador, who proposes the husband, does not restore to me my ring. You now see therefore what you have to do in this matter, for though you should talk to me for a fortnight, night and day, you would never persuade me to change my mind.”

Avenant was much surprised at this answer: he made the princess a low bow, and begged her to accept the little dog, the basket, and the scarf; but she replied that she would receive no presents, and bade him go and reflect on what she had said to him. When he returned to his lodgings, he went to bed without eating any supper, and his little dog, whose name was Cabriolle, would take none himself, and went and laid down beside his master.

All night long Avenant never ceased sighing. “Where can I hope to find a ring that fell a month ago into a great river?” said he; “it would be folly to attempt looking for it. The princess only named this condition to me because she knew it was impossible for me to fulfil it.” And then he sighed again and was very sorrowful.

Cabriolle, who heard him, said, “My dear master, I entreat you not to despair of your good fortune: you are too amiable not to be happy. Let us go to the river side as soon as it is daylight.” Avenant gave him two little pats, without saying a word, and, worn out with grieving, fell asleep.

Cabriolle, as soon as he saw daybreak, frisked about so that he woke Avenant, and said to him, “Dress yourself, master, and let us go out.” Avenant was quite willing; he arose, dressed, and descended into the garden, and from the garden strayed mechanically towards the river, on the banks of which he strolled with his hat pulled over his eyes, and his arms folded, thinking only of taking his departure, when suddenly he heard himself called by his name—”Avenant! Avenant!”

He looked all around him, and could see nobody: he thought he was dreaming. He resumed his walk, when again the voice called, “Avenant! Avenant!”

“Who calls me?” he asked. Cabriolle, who was very little and was looking close down into the water, replied, “Never trust me if it be not a golden carp that I see here.”

Immediately the carp appeared on the surface, and said to Avenant, “You saved my life in the nettle-tree meadow, where I must have perished but for your assistance. I promised to do as much for you. Here, dear Avenant, is the ring of the Fair with Golden Hair.”

Avenant stooped and took the ring out of his friend the carp’s mouth, whom he thanked a thousand times. Instead of returning to his lodgings he went directly to the palace, followed by little Cabriolle, who was very glad he had induced his master to take a walk by the river side.

The princess was informed that Avenant requested to see her.

“Alas! poor youth,” said she, “he is come to take leave of me. He is convinced that I required an impossibility, and he is about to return with these tidings to his master.”

Avenant was introduced, and presented her with the ring, saying, “Madam, I have obeyed your commands. Will it please you to accept the king my master for your husband?”

When she saw her ring quite perfect she was so astonished—so astonished—that she thought she was dreaming!

“Really,” said she, “Courteous Avenant, you must be favoured by a fairy, for by natural means this is impossible.”

“Madam,” he answered, “I am not acquainted with any fairy, but I was very anxious to obey you.”

“As you are so obliging,” continued she, “You must do me another service, without which I never will be married. There is a prince not far from here, named Galifron, who has taken it into his head he will make me his wife. He declared to me his determination, accompanying it by the most terrible threats, that if I refused him he would lay waste my kingdom; but judge if I could accept him. He is a giant taller than a high tower; he eats a man as a monkey eats a chestnut; when he goes into the country he carries in his pockets small cannons which he uses for pistols, and when he speaks very loud those who are near him become deaf. I sent word to him that I did not wish to marry, and that he must excuse me, but he has never ceased to persecute me. He kills all my subjects, and before anything can be done you must fight him and bring me his head.”

Avenant was a little astounded at this proposition; he mused for a few minutes upon it, and then answered, “Well, Madam, I will fight Galifron; I believe I shall be conquered, but I will die as becomes a brave man.”

The princess was much surprised at his determination; she said a thousand things to prevent his undertaking the adventure. It was of no use. He withdrew to seek for weapons and everything else he might require. When he had made his preparations, he replaced little Cabriolle in his basket, mounted a fine horse, and rode into the dominions of Galifron.

He inquired about him of all he met, and everyone told him he was a very demon whom nobody dared approach. The more he heard of him the more his alarm increased.

Cabriolle encouraged him, and said, “My dear Master, while you fight him I will bite his legs; he will stoop to rid himself of me, and then you can kill him easily.”

Avenant admired the wit of the little dog, but he knew well enough that his help could be of little avail. At length he arrived in the neighbourhood of Galifron’s castle. All the roads to it were strewed with the bones and bodies of men whom he had eaten or torn to pieces. He did not wait long before he saw the monster coming through a wood; his head was visible above the highest trees, and he sang in a terrible voice—

“Ho! bring me some babies, fat or lean,

That I may crunch ’em my teeth between!

I could eat so many! so many! so many!

That in the wide world there would not be left any!

Upon which Avenant immediately sang to the same tune—

“Ho! Here is Avenant to be seen,

Who comes to draw your teeth so keen;

He’s not the greatest man to view,

But he’s big enough to conquer you.”

The rhymes were not quite adapted to the music, but he made them in a great hurry; and it is really a miracle they were not much worse, for he was in a desperate fright.

When Galifron heard these words, he looked about him in every direction, and caught sight of Avenant, who, sword in hand, uttered several taunts to provoke him. They were needless, however. He was in a dreadful rage, and snatching up an iron mace, he would have crushed the gentle Avenant at one blow, had not a crow lighted at that instant on his head, and with its beak most accurately picked out both his eyes. The blood ran down his face, and he laid about him on all sides like a madman. Avenant avoided his blows, and gave him such thrusts with his sword, running it up to the hilt in his body, that at last he fell bleeding from a thousand wounds.

Avenant quickly cut off his head, quite transported with joy at his good fortune; and the crow, who had perched itself on the nearest tree, said to him: “I have not forgotten the service you rendered me in killing the eagle which pursued me. I promised you I would return the obligation. I trust I have done so to-day.”

“I owe all to you, Monsieur Crow,” replied Avenant, “And remain your obliged servant;” and forthwith mounted his horse, laden with the horrible head of Galifron. When he reached the city, all the people followed him, crying, “Behold the brave Avenant, who has slain the monster!” So that the princess, who heard a great uproar, and who trembled lest they should come and announce to her the death of Avenant, dared not inquire what had happened. But the next moment she saw Avenant enter, bearing the giant’s head, which still impressed her with terror, although there was no longer any occasion for alarm.

“Madam,” said Avenant to the princess, “Your enemy is dead: I trust you will no longer refuse the king my master.”

“Ah! pardon me,” said the Fair with Golden Hair; “But, indeed, I must refuse him, unless you can find means, before my departure, to bring me some water from the Gloomy Grotto. Hard by there is a deep cavern, full six leagues in extent. At the mouth of it are two dragons, who prevent any one from entering: flames issue from their jaws and eyes. Inside the cavern is a deep pit, into which you must descend: it is full of toads, adders, and serpents. At the bottom of this pit there is a small cavity, through which flows the fountain of Health and Beauty. Some of that water I must absolutely obtain. Whatever is washed with it becomes something marvellous. If persons are handsome, they remain so for ever; if ugly, they become beautiful: if young, they remain always young; if old, they become young again. You may well imagine, Avenant, that I would not quit my kingdom without some of this wonderful water.”

“Madam,” he replied, “You are so beautiful already, that this water will be quite useless to you; but I am an unfortunate ambassador, whose death you desire. I go in search of that which you covet, with the certainty that I shall never return.”

The Fair with Golden Hair was immovable, and Avenant set out with the little dog Cabriolle to seek in the Gloomy Grotto the water of beauty. Everybody who met him on the road exclaimed, “‘Tis a pity to see so amiable a youth wantonly court destruction. He goes alone to the grotto, when even if he had a hundred men to back him he could not accomplish his object. Why will the princess only demand impossibilities?” Avenant passed on without saying a word, but he was in very low spirits.

Having nearly got to the top of a mountain, he sat down to rest a little, allowing his horse to graze and Cabriolle to run after the flies. He knew that the Gloomy Grotto was not far from that spot, and looked about to see if he could discover it. He perceived a horrible rock, as black as ink, out of which issued a thick smoke; and the next minute one of the dragons, casting out fire from his mouth and eyes. It had a green and yellow body, great claws, and a long tail, coiled round in more than a hundred folds.

Cabriolle saw all this, and was so frightened he did not know where to hide himself. Avenant, perfectly prepared to die, drew his sword, and descended towards the cavern, with a phial which the Fair with Golden Hair had given him to fill with the water of beauty. He said to his little dog Cabriolle, “It is all over with me; I shall never be able to obtain the water which is guarded by those dragons. When I am dead, fill the phial with my blood, and carry it to the princess, that she may see what she has cost me. Then go to the king my master, and tell him my sad story.”

As he uttered these words, he heard a voice calling, “Avenant! Avenant!”

“Who calls me?” he asked; and he saw an owl in the hollow of an old tree, who said to him:

“You let me out of the fowler’s net in which I was caught, and saved my life. I promised I would do you as good a turn, and now is the time. Give me your phial. I am familiar with all the windings in the Gloomy Grotto. I will fetch you some of the water of beauty.”

Oh, I leave you to imagine who was delighted! Avenant quickly handed the phial to the owl, and saw it enter the grotto without the least difficulty. In less than a quarter of an hour the bird returned with the phial full of water, and tightly stopped. Avenant was in ecstasies! He thanked the owl heartily, and, re-ascending the mountain, joyfully took his way back to the city.

He went straight to the palace and presented the phial to the Fair with Golden Hair, who had no longer an excuse to make. She thanked Avenant, gave orders for everything to be got ready for her departure, and finally set out with him on their journey. She found him an exceedingly agreeable companion, and said to him more than once, “If you had wished it, I would have made you king, and there would have been no occasion for us to quit my dominions.” But his answer was always, “I would not be guilty of such treachery to my master for all the kingdoms on the face of the earth, although you are to me more beautiful than the sun!”

At length they arrived at the king’s capital city, and his majesty, hearing the Fair with Golden Hair was approaching, went to meet her, and made her the most superb presents in the world! The marriage was celebrated with such great rejoicings, that folks could talk of nothing else. But the Fair with Golden Hair, who secretly loved Avenant, was never happy when he was out of her sight, and was always praising him. “But for Avenant,” she would say to the king, “I should never have been here. For my sake he has done impossibilities. You should feel deeply indebted to him. He obtained for me the water of beauty. I shall never grow old, and I shall always remain handsome.”

The envious courtiers who heard the queen express herself thus, said to the king, “You are not jealous, and yet you have good cause to be so. The queen is so deeply in love with Avenant, that she can neither eat nor drink. She can talk of nothing but him, and of the obligations you are under to him. As if any one else it had pleased you to send to her would not have done as much!”

“That’s quite true,” said the king, “Now I think of it. Let him be put in the tower, with irons on his hands and feet.”

Avenant was accordingly seized, and in return for his faithful service to the king, fettered hand and foot in a dungeon. He was allowed to see no one but the gaoler, who threw him a morsel of black bread through a hole, and gave him some water in an earthen pan. His little dog Cabriolle, however, did not desert him; but came daily to console him and tell him all the news.

When the Fair with Golden Hair heard of Avenant’s disgrace, she flung herself at the king’s feet, and, bathed in tears, implored him to release Avenant from prison. But the more she entreated, the more angry the king became, for he thought to himself, “It is because she loves him,” so he refused to stir in the matter. The queen ceased to urge him, and fell into a deep melancholy.

The king took it into his head, that perhaps she did not think him handsome enough. He longed to wash his face with the water of beauty, in hopes that the queen would then feel more affection for him. The phial full of this water stood on the chimney-piece in the queen’s chamber: she had placed it there for the pleasure of looking at it more frequently: but one of her chamber-maids, trying to kill a spider with a broom, unfortunately threw down the phial, which broke in the fall, and all the water was lost. She swept the fragments of glass away quickly; and not knowing what to do, it suddenly occurred to her, that she had seen in the king’s cabinet a phial precisely similar, full of water, as clear as the water of beauty; so, without a word to any one, she adroitly managed to get possession of it, and placed it on the queen’s chimney-piece.

The water which was in the king’s cabinet was used for the execution of princes and great noblemen who were condemned to die for any crime. Instead of beheading or hanging them, their faces were rubbed with this water, which had the fatal property of throwing them into a deep sleep, from which they never awakened. So it happened one evening that the king took down the phial which he fancied contained the water of beauty, and rubbing the contents well over his face, he fell into a profound slumber and expired. The little dog, Cabriolle, was the first to hear the news of the king’s death, and ran with it to Avenant, who begged him to go and find the Fair with Golden Hair, and remind her of the poor prisoner.

Cabriolle slipped quietly through the crowd, for there was great confusion at court, in consequence of the king’s death, and said to the queen, “Madam, do not forget poor Avenant.” She immediately recalled to her mind all that he had suffered on her account, and his extreme fidelity.

She left the palace without speaking to any one, and went directly to the tower, where with her own hands she took the irons off the hands and feet of Avenant, and putting a crown of gold upon his head, and a royal mantle over his shoulders, she said, “Come, charming Avenant, I make you king, and take you for my husband.” He threw himself at her feet in joy and gratitude. Everybody was delighted to have him for their master. His nuptials were the most splendid that ever were seen in the world, and the Fair with Golden Hair reigned long and happily with the handsome Avenant.

A kindly action never fail to do.

The smallest brings a blessing back to you.

When Avenant preserved the carp and crow,

And even had compassion on the woe

Of an ill-omen’d and ill-favour’d owl,

Who would have dream’d a feeble fish or fowl

Would place him on the pinnacle of fame?

When of his king he urged the tender flame,

And won the fair he for another woo’d,

Unshaken in his loyalty he stood.

Innocent victim of a rival’s hate,

When all seem’d lost—when darkest frown’d his fate,

Just Providence reversed the ruthless doom,—

To Virtue gave the throne, to Tyranny a tomb.

French Fairy Tale by the Countess d’Aulnoy

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Love, Friendship

1. Avenant loves The Fair with the Golden Hair, but will not marry her. Why? Do you think people always marry those they love?

2. The King punishes Avenant when he believes The Fair with the Golden Hair is in love with him. Do you think he was right to do this? Why or why not?

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This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen who had only one son, of whom they were passionately fond, though he was a very ill-shapen boy. He was as stout as the biggest man and as short as the tiniest dwarf. But the ugliness of his face and the deformity of his body were as nothing compared to his evil disposition.

He was a self-willed little wretch, and a nuisance to everybody. From his earliest childhood the king had noticed this, but the queen was foolishly blind to his faults, and helped to spoil him still more by her excessive indulgence, which let him plainly see the power he had over her.

To gain favour with this princess you had but to tell her that her son was handsome and clever. She wished to give him a name that would inspire respect and fear, and after racking her brains for a long time she called him Furibon.

When he was old enough to have a tutor, the king chose for this purpose a prince who had ancient claims on the crown, and who would have maintained them like a man of spirit, if his affairs had been in a better state. But he had long given up all thought of this, and his whole time was occupied with the education of his only son. Never was there a lad gifted with a finer nature, a quicker or keener mind, or a gentler, meeker spirit. Everything he said had a happy turn and a special grace of its own, and in his person he was charming.

The king having chosen this great lord to be the guide of Furibon’s youth, told his son to be very obedient, but Furibon was a naughty urchin to whom a hundred floggings made no difference. The tutor’s son was called Leander, and everybody liked him. The ladies looked on him with much interest, but as he paid no special attention to any of them, they called him the Fair Indifferent. And they laid siege to him to make him change his manner towards them, but for all that he hardly ever left Furibon.

Furibon, however, only seemed to them the more hideous now that he appeared side by side with Leander, for he never came near the ladies except to say rude things to them: sometimes to tell them they were badly dressed, or that they were like country cousins, or-and this before everybody-that their faces were painted. He would get to know their secrets, only to tell them to the queen, who scolded them, and as a punishment cut short their rations.

All this made them hate Furibon with a deadly hatred. He knew it, and he took his revenge on young Leander.

“You are very lucky,” he said, looking at him sulkily. “The ladies are always praising you, but they behave very differently to me.”

“My lord,” said Leander, modestly. “The respect they have for you prevents their being on such familiar terms.”

“It is just as well for them they do feel so,” he said. “For otherwise I would beat them to a jelly to teach them their duty.”

One day, when ambassadors from a far country were expected, the prince and Leander were waiting in a gallery to see them go past. As soon as the ambassadors saw Leander they came forward and made profound bows before him, showing in every way their admiration. Then, looking at Furibon, thinking he must be the prince’s inferior, they took him by the arm, and twirled him round and round in spite of himself.

Leander was in despair. He made every effort to make them understand that it was the king’s son they were treating in this fashion. They did not know what he was saying, and unfortunately the interpreter had gone to await them by the king. Leander, seeing that they did not understand his signs, humbled himself still more before Furibon, and the ambassadors and their suite, thinking he was playing, laughed like to split their sides, and wanted to tweak the prince by the noise, after the fashion of their country. Furibon, in a towering rage, drew his little sword, which was no longer than a fan, and would have attacked them if the king had not come at that moment to meet the ambassadors, and been a witness to this violent scene. He apologised to them, for he knew their tongue, but they answered that it was of no consequence, for they had seen very well that the hideous Furibon was in a bad temper. The king was much distressed that the ugly face and the violence of his son should prevent his being recognised.

When the king and the ambassadors were out of sight Furibon took Leander by the hair, and plucked out two or three handfuls, and he would have strangled him if he had been able. Then he told him never again to come into his presence.

Leander’s father, very angry at what Furibon had done, sent his son away to a castle he had in the country. There Leander never found time to lay heavily on his hands, for he was fond of hunting, fishing, and walking. He could paint; he read a great deal, and could play on several instruments. He thought himself lucky no longer to have to pay court to the eccentric prince, and in spite of his being all by himself he was never lonely.

One day when he had been walking for a long time in his gardens, the heat becoming very great, he went into a little wood where the trees were tall and the foliage thick, to enjoy the pleasant shade. He began playing the flute to amuse himself, when he felt something turning round his leg and gripping it very tight. He looked to see what it could be, and was much astonished to find a great adder.

Taking his handkerchief he seized it by the head, and was just going to kill it when the creature twisted the rest of its body round his arm, and fixed its eyes on him as if asking for mercy.

One of his gardeners came up at that moment, and no sooner had he seen the adder than he cried out to his master:

“My lord, hold it fast. For a whole hour I have been running after it trying to kill it. It is the slyest beast in the world, and ruins our flower beds.”

Leander cast his eyes again on the adder. It was spotted all over with a thousand different colours. It looked at him still fixedly, but made not a movement to defend itself.

“Since you wished to kill it,” he said to his gardener, “and it has come to take refuge with me, I forbid you to hurt it in any way. I wish to feed it, and when it has cast off its beautiful skin I shall let it go.” Then he went back to his castle, and put it in a large room of which he kept the key, and sent bran, and milk, and flowers, and herbs to feed it and make it happy.

What a lucky snake! Sometimes he would go to see it, and as soon as it caught sight of him it came to meet him, crawling along and putting on all the little airs and graces an adder is capable of. The prince was very much surprised, yet he paid no great attention to the matter. Meanwhile all the ladies of the court were grieved at Leander’s absence, and their talk was of nothing but him and of how they wished he were back again.

“Alas!” they said, “there is no more pleasure at the court since Leander has gone, and it is all the fault of that wicked Furibon. Why should he be jealous because Leander is handsomer and more beloved than himself? Must Leander, to please him, disfigure his shape and his face? Must he dislocate his bones to be like him, or split his mouth from ear to ear, or close up his fine eyes, or cut off his nose? What an unreasonable little wretch! He will never be happy his whole life long, for he will never find anyone who is not handsomer than himself.”

But however wicked princes may be, they always have flatterers – and, in fact, wicked princes have even more than others. So it was with Furibon. His power over the mind of the queen made him formidable. When he heard what the ladies said he was mad with rage, and going to the queen’s room he told her he would kill himself before her face if she did not find some means of putting Leander to death. The queen, who hated Leander because he was handsomer than her son, replied that she had long looked upon him as a traitor, and that with a right good will she would have a hand in his death.

So he planned that he would go hunting with those favourites whom he could put most trust in, and that when Leander joined them they would teach him what comes of people worming themselves into everybody’s favour. Furibon, therefore, went a-hunting.

When Leander heard the dogs and the horns in his woods, he mounted his horse and rode out to see what was happening. When he saw the prince he was very much surprised, and dismounting, he saluted him respectfully. Furibon received him better than he expected, and told him to follow him. Then, turning round, he made a sign to the assassins not to fail in their attack. He himself was riding off at full speed when a lion of an enormous size came out of the depths of its cavern, and rushing on him, threw him to the ground. Those who were with him ran away.

Leander alone remained to face the furious animal.

Advancing with his sword in his hand, at the risk of being devoured, by his valour and his dexterity he saved his most cruel enemy. Furibon had fainted from fright. Leander tended him in the most careful fashion, and when he had recovered consciousness, he set him on his own horse.

Anyone but a thankless wretch would have felt grateful to the very depths of his soul for so great and recent a service, and by word and deed would have shown his gratitude. Not so Furibon. He did not even look at Leander, and only used his horse to go and seek the assassins, whom he again ordered to kill his preserver. They therefore surrounded Leander, who must certainly have been killed had his courage been less.

Making for a tree, he leant up against it so as not to be attacked from behind, and, sparing none of his enemies, he fought desperately. Furibon, thinking he was dead, hastened up to have the pleasure of looking on his dead body, but a very different scene from what he expected met his eyes, for the whole gang of villains were breathing their last.

Leander saw him, he came forward and said: “My lord, if it is by your order that they attempted to murder me, I am sorry I resisted “.

“Get you gone with your insolence,” replied the prince, in wrath. “If ever you appear before me again I will put you to death.”

Leander made no reply, and, sad at heart, he made his way home.

The night was spent in thinking what he should do, for there seemed no likelihood of his being able to successfully resist the king’s son; so he made up his mind to travel over the whole world. But just when he was ready to set off, he remembered the adder, and went to take it some milk and fruit.

As he was opening the door, he saw a strange light shining in one of the corners of the room. Looking more closely, he was much astonished to see a lady, whose noble and majestic presence gave evidence of her high rank. Her dress was of amaranth satin, embroidered with diamonds and pearls. Coming forward with a gracious air, she said to him:

“Young prince, do not seek here for the adder you brought hither. It is here no longer, and you find me in its place to pay you its debt. But to speak more plainly: well, I am fairy Gentille, famous for the many merry and dexterous tricks I know how to perform. All our family live for a hundred years without growing old. We are never ill: we have no sorrows or pains. That time over, we become adders for eight days. It is this period alone that is dangerous for us, for then we can neither foresee nor prevent any misfortunes that may happen to us; and if we are killed we never live again. The eight days past, we assume once more our ordinary shape, our beauty, our power, and our treasures. Now you understand, my lord, what I owe you, and it is only just that I should pay my debt. Think, therefore, what would be useful to you, and be sure of my good will.”

The young prince, who up to this time had had no dealings with the fairies, was so filled with astonishment that it was long before he could speak. But, making her a low bow, he said:

“Madam, after the honour that has been mine in serving you, fortune has nothing left to give me. “

“I should be very sorry,” she said, “were you not to give me a chance of being useful to you. Think a little, for I can make you a great king. I can prolong your life; make you even handsomer than you are; give you mines of diamonds, and houses full of gold. I can make you a fine orator, a poet, a musician, a painter. I can give you favour in the ladies’ eyes: I can give you a fuller intelligence. I can turn you into a spirit of the air, the water, and the earth.”

Here Leander interrupted her. “Forgive me for asking, madam,’ he said, “but what would be the good of being a spirit?”

“Why, it would have all kinds of uses and delights,” replied the fairy. “You could cross in a moment the vast plains of the universe. You could mount into the air without wings. You could visit the depths of the earth without being dead; sound the abysses of the sea without being drowned: gain entrance everywhere though the windows and the doors be shut. Then, whenever you liked, you could take your own natural shape again.”

“Ah, madam!” he cried, “I should like to be such a spirit. I am on the point of setting out on my travels, and I can imagine the infinite delight which I could enjoy with the powers you describe, and I prefer this gift to all those you have so generously offered to me.”

“Then,” replied Gentille, passing her hand three times over his eyes and face, “henceforth be Ariel, Ariel the beloved, Ariel the beautiful, Ariel the merry.” She kissed him, and gave him a little red hat, decked with parrots’ feathers. “When you put on this hat,” she said, “you will be invisible; when you take it off you will be visible.”

Leander, in great delight, clapped the little red hat on his head, and wished that he might go into the forest and pick the wild roses he had seen there. At that moment his body became light as thought. He was transported into the forest, passing through the window and flying like a bird. He could not help feeling afraid when he saw himself so high in the air, and when he was above a river he feared he might fall into it without the fairy having the power of preventing it. But he found himself safely at the foot of the rose tree, and plucking three roses, he returned at once to the room where the fairy still was.

He presented them to her, full of delight that his little trial trip had succeeded so well. But she told him to keep the roses: that one of them would supply him with all the money he would need; that if he put the second on his mistress’s throat he would know if she loved him truly; and that the third would prevent his falling ill. Then, without waiting for his thanks, she wished him bon voyage and vanished.

He was greatly delighted with the fine gift he had just received. “Could I ever have thought,” he said, “that saving a poor snake from the hands of my gardener would have brought me such a wonderful, such a splendid reward? Oh, how happy I shall be! What a pleasant time I shall have! How much I shall learn! When I am invisible I can find out the greatest secrets.”

It passed through his mind, too, that he should very much enjoy taking vengeance on Furibon. Setting his affairs hastily in order, he mounted the finest horse in his stable, which was called Grisdelin, and ordered some of his servants in his own livery to follow him, in order that the news of his return to court might the sooner get abroad.

Now you must know that Furibon, who was a great liar, had reported that had it not been for his own bravery, Leander would have murdered him while they were out hunting, that he had killed all his men, and that he must be brought to justice. The king, urged by the queen, ordered him to be arrested, so that when Leander came to court in this bold fashion, Furibon was warned of his arrival. He was too timid to go to meet him himself; but running to his mother’s room, he told her that Leander had just come, and begged her to have him seized. The queen, ever eager to fulfil the least desire of her miserable son, set off at once to find the king, and the prince impatient to know the decision, followed her in silence.

Stopping at the door, he leaned his ear to the key hole, putting his hair aside so as to hear the better. Meanwhile Leander came into the great hail of the palace wearing his little red hat, which, of course, made him invisible. When he saw Furibon listening he took a hammer and nail and nailed his ear fast to the door. Furibon, desperate, raging with pain, knocked at the door like a madman, shrieking loudly.

At his voice the queen ran to open the door, and in doing so tore off the prince’s ear, which made him bleed as if he had been murdered, and caused him to make faces horrible to see. The queen, inconsolable, took him on her knee, and taking the ear in her hand, kissed it and stuck it on again. Ariel seized a bunch of rods that were used for beating the king’s little dogs, and with these he rapped the queen’s knuckles and her son’s nose several times. She shrieked out that she was being murdered. The king looked everywhere. Everybody ran hither and thither, hut no one was to be seen, and they whispered that the queen must be mad from the grief of seeing Furibon’s ear torn off. It was the king who first thought so, and when she came near him he moved out of her way. It was a very awful scene!

At last, after Ariel had given Furibon a good beating, he left the room, and went into the garden, where he made himself visible again. Here he openly plucked the cherries, the apricots, the strawberries, and the flowers from the queen’s beds. She used to water these herself, and it was as much as anyone’s life was worth to touch them. The gardeners, very much surprised, came and told their majesties that Prince Leander was robbing the trees of their fruit and the garden of its flowers.

“What insolence!” cried the queen. “My little Furibon, my own darling, forget for a moment your hurt, and run after this villain. Take the guards, the musketeers, the policemen, the courtiers. Place yourself at their head, seize him, and cut him to pieces.”

Furibon, fired by his mother’s words, and followed by a thousand well-armed men, entered the garden, and saw Leander under a tree. Leander threw a stone at Furibon and broke his arm, and he pelted the rest of the troop with oranges. They rushed towards him, but lo! at that moment he had disappeared. Stepping behind Furibon, who was already in a sorry plight, he passed a cord through his legs, which threw him on his nose. The prince was picked up and taken home to bed, very ill.

Leander, satisfied with this revenge, returned to his attendants, who were waiting for him, and giving them money, he sent them back to his castle, not wishing to take anyone with him who might know the secret of the little red hat and the roses. Not having made up his mind where he wished to go, he mounted his beautiful horse Grisdelin and let it go at its will. He passed through countless woods, over plains, hills and valleys, resting now and again, eating and sleeping, without meeting any remarkable adventure.

At last he reached a forest, where he stopped to enjoy the shade for a little, for it was very hot. After a moment he heard the sound of sighing and sobbing, and looking round everywhere, he saw a man running, then stopping, now crying out, now saying nothing for a while, tearing his hair, beating his body, till Leander had no doubt but that he was some miserable person who had lost his wits. He seemed to be handsome and young. His clothes had once been splendid, but now they were all tattered. The prince, moved with compassion, addressed him:

“I see you in so unhappy a condition that I cannot help asking you what is the matter and offering you my services”.

“Ah! my lord,” replied the young man, “there is no remedy for my ills. Today my dear mistress is going to be sacrificed to a jealous old wretch, who is rich in the world’s goods, but who will make her the unhappiest creature in the whole world!”

“She loves you then,” said Leander.

“I may flatter myself she does,” he answered.

“And where is she?” said the prince.

“In a castle at the farther end of this forest,” replied the lover.

“Very well, wait for me,” said Leander again. “I will bring you good news before very long.”

And so saying, he put on the little red hat, and wished himself in the castle.

He had not reached it before he heard the sound of beautiful music; and, on entering, the whole palace resounded with the noise of violins and other instruments. He made his way into a great hail thronged with the relatives and friends of the old man and the young damsel. Nothing could have been lovelier than she was, but the pallor of her complexion, the sadness in her face, and the tears that flooded her eyes from time to time, were quite enough to show her suffering.

Leander, who had now turned into the invisible Ariel, remained in a corner to watch some of those who were present. He saw the father and mother of the pretty maiden, who were scolding her for the discontented face she was wearing. When they had returned to their places, Ariel stationed himself behind the mother, and whispered in her ear:

“Since you force your daughter to give her hand to this old villain, know for certain that before eight days are over you will be punished by death “.

The woman, terrified at hearing a voice and seeing no one, and still more at the threat which had been uttered, screamed aloud and fell down on the floor. Her husband asked what was the matter, and she cried out that she was a dead woman if her daughter’s marriage took place, and that for all the riches of the world she would not permit it.

The husband laughed at her, and told her she was dreaming; but Ariel, going up to him, said:

“Old skeptic, if you do not believe what your wife says, you will pay for your doubt with your life. Break off your daughter’s wedding, and give her up at once to the man she loves.”

These words produced a wonderful effect. Without more ado they despatched the bridegroom, telling him they would not have broken off the match but for orders from on high.

He did not believe what they said, and would have sought to gain his end by trickery, for he was a Norman; but Ariel shouted so loud in his ear that he was nearly deafened, and to make sure of his departure, he trod so hard on his gouty feet that he nearly squeezed them flat. So they ran to seek for the lover in the wood, who in the meanwhile was in despair.

Ariel was waiting for him with the utmost impatience, only less than that of his young mistress. The lover and his bride nearly died of joy. The feast prepared for the old mans wedding served for the happy lovers, and Ariel taking his human shape again, appeared suddenly at the hail door in the guise of a stranger drawn thither by the noise of the feast. As soon as the bridegroom saw him, he ran and threw himself at his feet, calling him every name that his gratitude could suggest to him.

Leander spent two days in this castle, and if he had liked he might have ruined them, for they offered him all they possessed; and he did not quit such good company without regret.

Going on his way, he reached a large city where lived a queen whose great desire was to gather about her court all the handsomest persons in her kingdom. Leander on his arrival had the finest equipage prepared that ever was seen; for, after all, he had only to shake the rose, and money never failed him.

It is easy to imagine that being handsome, young, witty, and, above all, splendid in appearance, the queen and all the princesses received him with every mark of respect and consideration. This was the most gallant court in the whole world, and not to be in love there was to be laughed at. So wishing to follow the custom, he thought he would play at falling in love, and that when he went away he could leave his love behind him as easily as his suite. And he cast his eyes on one of the queen’s maids-of-honour, called Fair Blondine.

This lady was very clever, but so cold and so serious that he did not know very well what to do to please her. He arranged wonderful fetes, and balls, and plays every night. He sent for rarities from all parts of the world, but it seemed to have no effect on her. Still, the more indifferent she was, the more was he determined to gain her favour. What chiefly attracted him was that he believed she had never loved anyone else. But to be certain he thought he should like to try on her the power of the rose. So, as if playfully, he placed it on Blondine’s bosom, when suddenly, fresh and blooming as it had been, it withered and faded.

That was enough to let Leander know that he had a rival whom she loved. He felt this very keenly, and to be convinced of it by his own eyes, he wished himself in Blondine’s room in the evening. There he saw a musician come in who had the most villainous face imaginable. This man screeched out three or four couplets he had made for her, the Words and the music of which were alike detestable, but she enjoyed them as if they were the finest things she had ever heard in her life. He made faces as if he were possessed, and even these she praised, so mad about him was she; and at last she let this hideous wretch kiss her hand as a reward.

Ariel, enraged, threw himself on this impertinent musician; and pushing him roughly against a balcony, flung him into the garden, where he broke his few remaining teeth. If a thunderbolt had fallen on Blondine she could not have been more surprised. She thought it must be the work of some spirit. Ariel vanished from the room without showing himself, and at once returned to his own quarters, where he wrote to Blondine, heaping reproaches upon her. Without awaiting her answer he set off, leaving behind him his equipage, which he presented to his squires and his gentlemen, and rewarding the rest of his people. Then mounting on his trusty Grisdelin, he made up his mind never to fall in love again after what had happened.

He set out at full speed. For a long time he was very melancholy, but his good sense and absence from Blondine came to his aid in time. On his arrival in another town he learnt that a great ceremony was to take place that day, on the occasion of the admission of a maiden among the vestal virgins, though she had no wish to be one.

The prince was much touched when he heard of this. He now felt that the little red hat had only been given him to repair public wrongs and to comfort the distressed. So he hastened to the temple. There the young girl was crowned with flowers, dressed in white, and her long hair falling over her like a mantle. Two of her brothers led her by the hand, and her mother followed her with a great company of men and women. The eldest vestal was waiting for her at the temple door.

At that moment Ariel called out: “Stop, stop, wicked brethren, cruel mother, stop! heaven will not consent to this wrong being done. If you go on you will be trampled to death like frogs.”

They looked round everywhere without finding out where the terrible threats were coming from. The brothers said it must be their sister’s lover who was hiding at the bottom of some hole to play the oracle, but Ariel, flying into a rage, took a long stick and beat them soundly. You could see the stick rise and fall about their shoulders like a hammer on an anvil, and the blows at least were real enough. The vestals were seized with terror, and fled, the others following.

Ariel remained with the young victim. Taking off his little hat, he asked her in what way he could help her. She told him, with more courage than could have been expected of a girl of her age, that there was a knight whom she cared for very much, but who was poor. Then he shook Fairy Gentille’s rose so vigorously that he shot out ten million gold coins for her and her lover. The two young people got married, and lived happy ever afterwards.

The last adventure he had was the best of all. Entering a great forest he heard the piteous cries of a young maiden, who he had no doubt was being hurt in some way. Looking all around he saw four men, fully armed, bearing away a damsel who seemed to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age.

Advancing as speedily as possible, he cried out: “What has this child done that you should treat her as a slave? “

“And what is that to you, my little lordling? “said he who seemed to be the leader of the band.

“I command you,” said Leander, “to let her go at once.”

“Oh, certainly, certainly!” they answered, laughing. In great wrath the prince dismounted, and put on the little red hat, for he did not think it would be wise to attack all by himself four men strong enough to be a match for twelve. When he had on his little hat you would have been very clever if you could have seen him.

The robbers said: “He is gone; Don’t let us mind about him. Seize his horse only.”

One stopped to guard the young damsel, while the other three ran after Grisdelin, who gave them no end of trouble.

“Alas, fair princess!” said the girl, “how happy I was in your palace! How can I live without you? If you knew what has happened to me, you would send your Amazons after poor Abricotine.”

Leander listened, and without a moment’s delay he seized the arm of the robber who kept the girl, and tied it to a tree before he had the time to defend himself, for he did not even know who it was that had bound him. At his cries one of his comrades came running up out of breath and asked him who had tied him to the tree.

“I do not know. I have seen no one.”

“That is only an excuse,” said the other. “But I have known for long that you were nothing but a coward, and I shall treat you as you deserve.” Thereupon he belaboured him with his stirrup leathers. Ariel was much amused to hear him shouting.

Then going up to the second robber he took him by the arm, and fastened him also to a tree, just opposite his comrade, not forgetting to ask him: “Well, my good fellow, and who has dared to attack you? Are you not a great coward to have permitted it?”

The man answered not a word, but bent his head for shame, unable to imagine how he had been tied to the tree without seeing anyone.

Meanwhile Abricotine took the opportunity of running away, without even knowing where she was going. Leander, no longer seeing her, called out to Grisdelin, and the horse, eager to find his master, freed himself by two kicks from the robbers who had caught him, breaking the head of one and three ribs of the other.

The first thing to be done now was to rejoin Abricotine, for Ariel thought her very pretty, and he wished to be in the young damsel’s company. In a moment he had reached her, and found her so very, very tired that she was leaning up against a tree, hardly able to stand.

When she saw Grisdelin coming along so gaily, she cried out: “What good luck! Here is a pretty horse to carry Abricotine to the Palace of Delights.”

Ariel heard what she said, but she did not see him. He went up to her; Grisdelin stopped; and she sprang on his back. Ariel clasped her in his arms, and set her gently in front of him. Oh! how terrified Abricotine was to feel someone there, and yet to see nobody! She dared not move, and she shut her eyes for fear she should see a spirit, and did not utter a syllable. The prince, who had always his pockets full of the nicest sugar-plums in the world, tried to put some in her mouth, but she shut her teeth and lips quite tight. At last, taking off his little hat, he said:

“Why, Abricotine, you are a very timid girl to be so much afraid of me. It was I who saved you out of the robbers’ hands.”

Then she opened her eyes and recognised him. “Ah my lord,” she said, “I owe you everything. It is true I was terrified at being in the company of someone whom I could not see.”

“I am not invisible,” he replied; “but you have evidently hurt your eyes, and you could not therefore see me.” Abricotine believed him, though for all that she was sharp enough as a rule.

After talking for some time on things in general, Leander begged her to tell him her age, where her home was, and by what mischance she had fallen into the bandits’ hands.

“I owe you too much,” she said, “not to satisfy your curiosity; but, my lord, I beg you to give less attention to my story than to the means of getting on our way speedily. A fairy, who surpassed every other in fairy lore,” began Abricotine, “fell so madly in love with a certain prince that, though she was the first of her race who had been so weak, she married him, in spite of all persuasions to the contrary from the other fairies, who placed before her ceaselessly the wrong she was doing to their kind. They refused to let her live amongst them any longer, and all she could do was to build a great palace on the borders of their kingdom. But the prince whom she had married got tired of her. He was much annoyed because she had the power of seeing all his actions; and as soon as he showed the least favour to any other lady she made a terrible commotion, and would revenge herself on the prettiest damsel in the world by making her hideously ugly. The prince, feeling very uncomfortable by such an inconvenient amount of affection, set off one fine morning with post horses, and journeyed a long, long way off, to hide himself in a big hole in the depths of a mountain, in order that she might not be able to find him. It was no use. She followed him, and, telling him that a child was about to be born, begged him to return to his palace; that she would give him money, and horses, and dogs, and arms; that she would have a riding-school built, and a tennis-court and a mall made for his amusement. All this had no effect on him, for by nature he was very obstinate and fond of lawless pleasures. He said all sorts of rude things to her, and called her an old surly witch. ‘It is very lucky for you,’ she said, ‘that my good temper is greater than your folly, otherwise I would turn you into a cat, and you should pass your life mewling on the spout, or into a filthy toad, dabbling in the mud, or into a pumpkin or an owl. But the worst I can possibly do is to leave you to your own folly. Stay here, then, in your hole, in your dark cave with the bears. Call the shepherdesses of the neighbourhood round you, in time you will get to know the difference between the low country folks and a fairy like me, who can be as charming as she likes.'”

“With this she mounted on her flying car, and sped away as swift as a bird. As soon as she reached her home she transported her palace to an island, drove away her guards and her officers, took women of the Amazonian race and set them round her isle to keep a careful watch so that no men might ever set foot thereon. She called the spot the Isle of Calm Delights, and she used to say that no true pleasures were possible wherein men had any part. She bred up her daughter in this opinion. Never was there such a beautiful maiden. She is the princess I serve,” continued Abricotine; “and, as pleasures reign where she is, no one grows old in her palace. To look at me you would not think it, but I am more than two hundred years old. When my mistress grew up her fairy mother left her her island; and having given her many lessons in the art of living a happy- life, went back to the realm of Faërie once more. And the Princess of Calm Delights governs her state in an admirable fashion. I do not remember in all my life having seen an other men than those robbers who carried me off; and now you, my lord. Those men told me that they had been sent by a certain ugly, misshapen creature called Furibon, who loves my mistress, though he has only seen her portrait. They hung round the island with out daring to set foot on it, for our Amazons are too watchful to let anyone land. But I have charge of the princess’s birds, and I let a beautiful parrot escape, and fearing I should be scolded, I imprudently left the island to seek for it. So they’ caught me, and would have taken me away with them had it not been for your help.”

“If you really feel grateful,” said Leander, “may I not hope, fair Abricotine, that you will let me land on the Isle of Calm Delights, and let me see this wonderful princess who never grows old? “

“Ah! my lord,” she said, “we should be ruined, both you and I, if we did anything of the kind. It should be very easy for you to do without a pleasure which you have never known. You have never been in this palace: imagine to yourself that it does not exist.”

“It is not so easy as you think,” answered the prince, “to wipe out of one’s memory the things that take kindly root there; and I do not agree with you that to banish our sex is a sure means of securing calm delights.”

“My lord,” she replied, “it is not for me to decide. I even confess that if all men were like you I should be glad that the princess should make other laws; but having only seen five, four of whom were villains, I conclude that the wicked outnumber the good, and that it is therefore best to banish all of them.”

While they were speaking, they arrived at the banks of a great river. Abricotine jumped lightly to the ground.

“Adieu, my lord,” she said to the prince, making him a low bow; “I wish you so much happiness that the whole earth may be for you an island of delights. Now go away in haste, lest our Amazons see you.”

“And as for me,” he answered, “fair Abricotine, I pray that a tender heart may be given you, so that some memory of me may remain with you.” Then he went on his way.

In the thickest part of a wood which he saw near the river he unharnessed Grisdelin, so that he might wander about and graze for a little. Putting on the little red hat, he wished himself in the Isle of Calm Delights. His wish was granted at once, and he found himself in a very beautiful and very extraordinary place.

The palace was of pure gold, with figures on the roof of crystal and precious stones, representing the signs of the zodiac and all the wonders of nature-the sciences, the arts, the elements, the sea with its fish, the earth with its living things; Diana at the chase with her nymphs, the noble exercises of the Amazons, the amusements of a country life, shepherdesses with their flocks and their dogs; rustic labours, agriculture, harvesting, gardens, flowers, bees… and yet amongst all those different things there was never the image of a man nor a boy, not even a little Cupid; for the fairy had been too angry with her disloyal husband to show favour to any of his unfaithful sex.

“Abricotine has not deceived me,” said the prince to himself. “The very idea of men has been banished from this place; let us see whether they lose much thereby.”

Entering the palace, at every step he took such wonderful things met his eyes that it was with great difficulty he could withdraw them again. The gold and the diamonds were wonderful, even more for their workmanship than for their intrinsic worth. Everywhere he met maidens of gentle look, innocent and merry, and fair as a sunny morning.

Passing through endless vast rooms, he found some full of exquisite china vases, the odour from which, along with the odd colours and designs, delighted him greatly. Some of the rooms had walls of porcelain, so fine that you could see the light through them. Others were of engraved rock crystal, others of amber and coral, lapis lazuli, agate, and cornelian, while the princess’s room was all made of great mirrors, for so fair an object could not be too often seen. The throne was made of a single pearl, hollowed out like a shell, in which she sat with perfect ease. It was all hung round with branched candlesticks decked with rubies and diamonds.

But this splendour was as nothing by the side of the incomparable beauty of the princess herself. Her childlike air had all the grace of youth with the dignity of a riper age. Nothing could equal the gentleness and the brightness of her eyes. In fact, it was impossible to find fault with her at any point.

She was just then smiling graciously to her maids-of-honour, who that day had dressed themselves as nymphs for her amusement. Not seeing Abricotine, she asked where she was. The nymphs replied that they had sought her in vain. She was nowhere to be found.

Ariel was dying to speak to her, and so he imitated the shrill little voice of a parrot (there were several in the room), and said:

“Dear princess, Abricotine will come back soon. She was in great danger of being carried off, had not a young prince found her.”

“You are very pretty, my little parrot,” she said, “but I think you are mistaken, and when Abricotine returns she will beat you.”

“I shall not be beaten,” said Ariel, still in the parrot’s voice. “She will tell you how much the stranger wished he might come into this palace, to root out from your mind your false ideas against his sex.”

“Really, my pretty Polly,” cried the princess, “it is quite a pity that you are not as amusing every day. I would love you dearly.”

“Ah if I need only talk to please you,” said Ariel, “I shall not stop talking for a minute.”

“Well, no,” said the princess. “Would you not certainly say this parrot was a wizard?”

“He is too much of a lover to be a wizard,” he answered.

At that moment Abricotine entered; and threw herself at her fair mistress’s feet, she told her adventure, and painted the prince’s portrait in the brightest and most pleasing colours.

“I should have hated all men,” she added, “if I had not seen him. Ah! madam, how charming he is! In his look and his whole manner there is something noble and spiritual, and as everything he says is most fascinating, I think I have done wisely in not bringing him here.”

The princess made no answer to this, but went on questioning Abricotine about the prince, as to his name, his country, his birth, where he came from, where he was going to. Afterwards she fell into a deep reverie. Ariel watched everything, and continued to speak in the same voice.

“Abricotine is an ungrateful girl, madam,” he said. “This poor stranger will die of grief if he does not see you.”

“Very well, Polly, let him die; and, since you take upon yourself to talk seriously, I forbid you ever to speak to me again of that unknown prince.”

Leander was delighted to see that Abricotine’s story and the parrot’s had made such an impression on the princess, and he looked at her with a pleasure which made him forget his former vows never to fall in love in his life – for there was no comparison between her and the vain Blondine.

“Is it possible,” he said to himself, “that this masterpiece of nature, this miracle of our days, must stay forever on an island where no mortal man may dare approach her! But after all,” he went on, “what does it matter that all the rest are banished, since I have the honour of being here, since I see her, hear her, admire her, since I love her better than my life!”

It was late, and the princess passed into a hall all of marble and porphyry, where fountains were playing, and everything was pleasant and cool. As soon as she had entered, a symphony began and a sumptuous supper was served. At the side of the hail there were long aviaries filled with rare birds which Abricotine tended. Leander had learnt on his travels how to sing like birds; he used even to invent songs such as no living birds ever sang. The princess listened, looked in great astonishment, then left the table and came near. Ariel then gave out a louder, stronger note, and in the voice of a canary he sang these words to an impromptu air:-

“O! heavy the tread of the march of life,

And weary the striving and vain the strife,

And lonely the way for you and for me

If Love be not of the company.

For life is love, and love is life,

And everything else is useless strife

See, Love is beckoning you and me,

Haste then and join his company.”

The princess, still more astonished, sent for Abricotine, and asked her if she had taught any of the canaries to sing. She said no, but she thought that canaries were probably as intelligent as parrots. The princess smiled, and thought all the same that Abricotine had given the birds singing lessons. Then she sat down to table again to finish her supper.

Leander’s journey had been long enough to give him an appetite, and he made his way towards the good things, the very smell of which was grateful to him.

The princess had a blue cat-a very fashionable colour for cats at that period-which she was very fond of, and one of her maidens held it in her arms, saying: “Madam, I assure you Bluet is hungry “.

So they seated him at the table, with a little golden plate and a lace napkin neatly folded. He wore a golden bell and a pearl collar. With a voracious appetite he began to eat.

“Oh, ho!” said Ariel. “A great blue tom-cat, who probably never caught a mouse in his life, and who certainly is not of better birth than I, has the honour of supping with my fair princess! I would like to know if he loves her as much as I do, and if it is right that I have nothing but the smell of the dishes for my supper, while he munches all the dainty bits?”

Thereupon he very quietly removed Bluet, sat down himself in the armchair, and took the cat on his lap. No one saw Ariel. How could they have seen him, for he had his little red hat on? The princess put partridge, quail, and pheasant on Bluet’s golden plate. The partridge, quail, and pheasant disappeared in a moment, and the whole court said there never was a cat with such an appetite.

The ragouts were excellent, too; and Ariel taking a fork, and holding it in the cat’s paw, tasted them. Sometimes he took rather much on his fork, and Bluet, who did not understand a joke, mewed, and tried to scratch viciously. Then the princess would say: “Put that tart, or that fricassee, near poor Bluet. Hear how he is crying to have it!”

Leander laughed to himself at such a funny adventure. But now he felt very thirsty, not being used to such long repasts without drinking. So he caught hold of a large melon with the cat’s paw, and this satisfied him somewhat, and when supper was nearly over he ran to the sideboard and drank two bottles of delicious nectar.

The princess retired to her room, telling Abricotine to come along with her, and to shut the door. Ariel followed fast after, and made an unseen third to the company. The princess said to her confidant:

“Confess, now, that you were exaggerating in drawing the portrait of this unknown prince. It does not seem to me possible for him to be so beautiful as you say.”

“I assure you, madam,” she answered, “that if I have failed in any way it is that I have said too little.”

The princess sighed, and for a moment she was silent. Then, speaking again, she said:

“It was wise of you to have refused to bring him with you “.

“But, madam,” answered Abricotine, who was in fact a sly little monkey, and who already guessed what was in her mistress’s mind. “Even if he had come to admire the wonders of this lovely place, what harm could he have done you? Do you wish to live forever unknown in a corner of the world, hidden away from the rest of mortals? What is the use of so much grandeur, pomp, and magnificence if nobody sees it all?”

“Hold your tongue, you little chatterbox,” said the princess, “and do not trouble the happy calm which has been mine for two hundred years. Think you, if I had lived an anxious, noisy life, I should have lived so long? It is only innocent and quiet pleasures that leave no bad effects behind. Have we not heard in the best histories of revolutions in great states, of the unforeseen strokes of fickle fortune, the terrible disturbances caused by love, the griefs of absence and of jealousy? What is it brings about all these sorrows and troubles? Nothing but the interrelations of human beings with each other. Now, thanks to the care of my mother, I am free from all these crosses. I know neither bitterness of heart, nor vain desires, nor envy, nor love, nor hate. Ah, let us go on living always in this same calm!”

Abricotine dared not answer. The princess waited some time, and then asked her if she had nothing to say. Abricotine inquired why she had sent her portrait to various courts, where it could only make people miserable, for everyone who saw it would wish to see the original, and, being unable to, they would be in despair.

“I confess, in spite of that,” replied the princess, “that I would like my portrait to fall into the hands of that stranger, whose name I do not know.”

“Ah, madam!” she replied, “is he not already eager enough to see you? Would you have him more so?”

“Yes,” said the princess. “A certain impulse of vanity, which has been unknown to me till now, breeds this desire in me.”

Ariel listened to all this without losing a single one of the words: some of them gave him flattering hopes, which were dashed to pieces by others. It grew late, and the princess went to her room to bed. Ariel would have much liked to have been present when she made her toilette, but though this was possible, the respect he had for her prevented him. It seemed to him that he ought to take no liberties with her but those she might have permitted; and his affection for her was so delicate and so refined that he tormented himself about the smallest things. So he went into a cabinet near the princess’s room to have at least the pleasure of hearing her speak.

At that moment she was asking Abricotine if she had seen nothing extraordinary during her little journey.

“Madam,” she said, “I passed through a forest where I saw animals very much like children. They were leaping and dancing about the trees like squirrels. They were very ugly, but wonderfully nimble.”

“Ah, how I should like to have some of them!” said the princess. “If they were less agile one could catch them.”

Ariel, who had passed through this forest, knew the animals must be monkeys.

Thereupon he wished himself back in their haunts, where he caught a dozen, little and big. Putting them all into a sack, he wished himself at Paris, where he had heard you could have anything you liked for money. So he went to Dautel, a dealer in curiosities, and bought a little golden coach, to which he harnessed six green monkeys, with little trappings of flame-coloured morocco pricked out with gold. Then he hastened to Brioche, a famous marionette show man, where he found two very clever monkeys-one, the more intelligent, called Briscambille, the other Perceforêt. They were very polite and very well-bred. Briscambille he dressed as a king, and put him in the coach; Perceforêt was the coachman, while the rest of the monkeys were pages.

Never was seen anything so pretty. He put the carriage and the dressed-up monkeys in the same sack and returned. As the princess had not yet gone to bed she heard the noise of the little coach in her gallery, and her nymphs came to tell her of the arrival of the king of the dwarfs. At that moment the coach with its procession of monkeys entered her room, and the country monkeys did as pretty tricks as even Briscambille and Perceforêt. To tell the truth, it was Ariel who was leading the whole of them. Taking the monkey out of the little golden coach, he made him gracefully present a box covered with diamonds to the princess. She opened it at once, and found inside a letter, in which she read these verses:–

“Here is pleasure’s dwelling-place,

Palace bright, ‘mid gardens shady;

Fair the spot and full of grace,

Yet not so fair as my fair lady.

“All unseen, I envying see

Life’s cool stream here calmly gliding;

Bound and struggling restlessly,

All my passion from her hiding.”

It is not difficult to imagine her astonishment. Briscambille made a sign to Perceforêt to come and dance with him, and they excelled all the most celebrated performing monkeys that ever lived. But the princess, uneasy at being unable to guess whence the verses came, sent the dancers away sooner than she would other wise have done, for they amused her endlessly, and she had laughed at first enough to make her ill.

When they were gone she gave herself up entirely to her own thoughts, but she could make nothing of so dark a mystery. Leander, much pleased by the interest with which his verses had been read, and by the delight of the princess in looking at the monkeys, now thought of taking some rest, of which he stood in much need. But he feared lest he might choose some room occupied by one of the princess’s nymphs, and therefore he waited for a time in the great gallery of the palace.

When at last he went downstairs, he found an open door, and entering noiselessly, found himself in a room on one of the lower floors – the prettiest, the pleasantest ever seen. The bed was hung with green and gold gauze, draped in festoons, with ropes of pearls and tassels of rubies and emeralds. It was still light enough to enable him to admire all this wonderful splendour.

After shutting the door he fell asleep; but the remembrance of his fair princess woke him up several times, anti he could not keep from heaving sighs for his great love for her.

He rose so very early that the time dragged till he could see her. Looking about him, he saw a canvas ready prepared, and colours, and he called to mind what his princess had said to Abricotine about her portrait. Now he could paint better than the great masters, and without losing a moment he sat down before a large mirror and painted his own picture; also, in an oval, that of the princess, her face being so present to his imagination that he had no need to see her for this first sketch. Afterwards he touched up the work with her before him, though she was unconscious of his presence; and as it was the desire of pleasing her that gave him the impulse to work, never was a portrait more perfectly finished. He had represented himself as kneeling before her, holding the princess’s portrait in one hand and in the other a scroll, on which was written:–

“The likeness graven on my heart is fairer far”.

When she entered the cabinet she was astonished to see there the portrait of a man, and she fixed her eyes on it with the greater wonder inasmuch as she recognised her own as well. The words written on the scroll gave her abundant matter for curiosity and thought.

At that moment she was alone. She knew not what to think of such an extraordinary incident; but she persuaded herself it must be Abricotine who had played her this trick. The only thing to do was to find out whether the picture of this knight was painted from her imagination, or if there had been a living model.

Getting up quickly, she ran to call Abricotine. Ariel was already in the cabinet with the little red hat, very curious to hear what would take place.

The princess told Abricotine to cast her eyes on that picture, and tell her what she thought.

As soon as she saw it she cried out: “Madam, I protest to you this is the portrait of that generous stranger to whom I owe my life. Yes, it is indeed the same; there is no doubt of it. These are his features, his figure, his hair, his whole bearing.”

“You pretend to be surprised,” said the princess, smiling; “but it was you that put it here.”

“I, madam!” said Abricotine. “I swear to you I have never seen this picture before in all my life. Could I be so bold as to hide anything which could be of interest to you? And by what miracle could it have fallen into lily hands? I cannot paint. No man has ever entered this place; yet – here he is, and painted along with you.”

“I am seized with terror,” said the princess. “Some demon must have brought it here.”

“Madam,” said Abricotine, “may it not have been Love? If you think so too, I advise you to have it burned at once.”

“What a pity that would be!” said the princess, sighing. “It seems to me my boudoir could have no prettier decoration than this picture.”

While she said so, she looked at it; but Abricotine persisted in saying she should burn a thing that could only have come there by magic power.

“And these words:-

“The likeness graven on my heart is fairer far,”-

said the princess. “Shall we burn them too? “

“We must spare nothing,” replied Abricotine, “not even your own portrait.”

She ran off at once to fetch a light. The princess went and stood near the window, unable to look any longer at a portrait which made such an impression on her heart.

But Ariel, unwilling to let them burn it, took advantage of this moment, and ran off with it unseen. Hardly was he out of the room when she turned round to look again at the magic portrait which pleased her so much. What was her surprise to see it gone! She looked on all sides.

When Abricotine came in again the princess asked if it was she who had just taken it away, but Abricotine said “No,” and this last adventure really did frighten them.

After hiding the portrait Leander came back. During these days it was a source of much delight to him to hear and see his fair princess. Every day he ate at the table along with the blue cat, whose appetite was none the more satisfied in consequence. Yet Ariel’s happiness was far from perfect, since he dared neither speak nor let himself be seen, and without that one has little chance of being loved.

The princess delighted in all beautiful things, and in the present state of her heart she had need of amusement. One day when she was with her nymphs, she told them that she should like very much to know how the ladies of all the different courts in the universe were clad, in order that she might dress according to the finest model.

A suggestion was all that Ariel wanted to make him set off on a journey through the whole earth. So, clapping on his little red hat, he wished himself in China, where he bought the finest stuffs and took patterns of the costumes. Then he flew to Siam, where he did the same. He ran through the four quarters of the world in three days, and when he was laden he came back to the Palace of Calm Delights, and hid in a room all that he had brought. When he had in this way collected a number of wonderful curiosities (for money was nothing to him, his rose furnishing a constant supply), he bought five or six dozen dolls, which he had dressed in Paris, for there more than anywhere else in the world fashion has sway. There were costumes of all kinds, and of an untold splendour. All these Ariel arranged in the princess’s cabinet.

When she entered she was surprised beyond words. Every doll carried a present, either watches, bracelets, diamond buttons, or necklaces, whilst the principal one had a case containing a portrait. Opening it, the princess found a miniature of Leander. Her remembrance of the first one made her recognise the second. She uttered a loud cry, then, looking at Abricotine, she said:

“I cannot understand all that has been passing for some time in this palace. My birds talk like rational beings. It seems I have only to wish in order to be obeyed. I twice see the portrait of him who saved you from the bandits. Here are Stuffs, diamonds, embroideries, lace, and wonderful curiosities. Who is then the fairy, who is the demon, that seeks with such care to please me so? “

Leander, hearing her speak, wrote these words on his tablets, and threw them at the princess’s feet:-

“Neither sprite am I nor fairy;

But, though near you still I hover,

Yet to show my face I’m chary-

Pity your unhappy lover,

PRINCE ARIEL”.

The tablets were so splendid with gold and jewels that as soon as she saw them she opened them, and read with the utmost astonishment what Leander had written.

“This invisible creature must be a monster, then,” she said, “since he dares not show himself; but if it were true that he had some attachment for me, he would surely have delicacy enough not to present me with so attractive a portrait. He cannot love me, else he would not expose my heart to this trial, or he has such a good opinion of himself that he thinks himself handsomer than he is in reality.”

“I have heard tell, madam,” replied Abricotine, “that there are spirits made of air and fire; they have no body, and it is only their mind and their will that act.”

“I am very glad of it,” replied the princess. “A lover like that could hardly disturb the calm of my life.”

Leander was delighted to hear her, and to see her so much occupied with his portrait. He called to mind that in a grotto which she often used to visit was a pedestal on which a Diana, still unfinished, was one day to be placed. He went and stood there in a strange dress, crowned with laurels and holding a lyre in his hand, which he could play better than Apollo. Then he waited patiently for his princess to come, as she did every day, for it was here she came to dream about her unknown lover.

Abricotine’s account of her champion, added to the pleasure she had in looking at Leander’s picture, hardly left her a moment of rest. She loved solitude, and her merry humour had changed so much that her nymphs hardly recognised her. When she entered the grotto, she signed to them not to follow her, so they each went away along separate walks. Meanwhile she threw herself on a grassy bed, sighing, shedding tears, even speaking, but so low that Ariel could not hear her.

At first he had put on the little red hat, so that she might not see him. When he took it off she gazed on him with the utmost astonishment, imagining that it was a statue, for he tried not to change the attitude he had chosen. It was with a joy mingled with fear that she looked on him. This vision so unexpected filled her with surprise, but in the end the pleasure cast out the fear, and she was just growing used to seeing so lifelike a figure when the prince tuned his lyre and sang these words:–

“There lurketh here such dangerous art

That stones and stones might feel it.

In vain I vowed to guard my heart,

Nor let the fair ones steal it.

Now, wounded, who will heal it, will heal it

“Is this the Isle of Calm Delights

Here passion met me on the shore,

Made me a slave beneath his might;

Yet, spite of freedom heretofore, ‘

Tis here I’d stay for evermore, for evermore.’

Although Leander’s voice was charming, the princess could not master the terror that seized her. Suddenly she grew pale, and fell in a swoon.

Ariel, alarmed, leaped from the pedestal to the ground, and put on his little red hat so that no one might see him. Then taking the princess in his arms, he tended her with the utmost care and eagerness.

She opened her beautiful eyes and cast them about on all sides, as if to look for him. She saw no one, but yet she felt someone near her, holding her hands, kissing them, and moistening them with tears. It was long before she dared to speak, her fluttered spirit hovering between fear and hope. She feared the invisible Ariel, but she loved him when he took the figure of the stranger.

At last she cried out: “Ariel, brave Ariel, why are you not he whom I desire? “

At these words Ariel was on the point of making himself known, but he dared not do it yet. “If I terrify this lady whom I love,” he said; “if she fears me, she will never love me.” This thought made him keep silence, and induced him to retire into a corner of the grotto.

The princess, thinking she was alone, called for Abricotine, and told her the wonders of the animated statue, whose voice was so heavenly, and that in her swoon Arjel had tended her so well.

“What a pity,” she said, “that this spirit is deformed and hideous, for could anyone have more gracious and pleasant manners?”

“And who told you,” said Abricotine, “that he is as you imagine him to be? Did not Psyche think that love was a serpent? Your adventure is something like hers. You are no less beautiful. If it were Cupid that loved you, would you not love him?”

“If Cupid and the unknown were the same,” said the princess, blushing, “alas! I would indeed love Cupid. But how far I am from such happiness! I am following a chimera, and that fatal portrait of the stranger, added to what you have told me, makes me wish for things so opposed to my mother’s precepts that I am sure to be punished.”

“Ah! madam,” said Abricotine, interrupting her, “have you not already trouble enough? Why look forward to the evils that will never come to pass?”

It is easy to imagine all the pleasure such a conversation gave to Leander. Meanwhile little Furibon, still in love with the princess, though he had never seen her, waited impatiently for the return of the four men whom he had sent to the Island of Calm Delights.

Only one, came back, who gave him an account of what had passed, telling him that it had been defended by Amazons, and that unless he were to lead a great army there he would never enter the island.

His father, the king, had just died, and Furibon now found himself sole master. So he gathered together more than four hundred thousand men, and set off at their head. Truly he was a fine general! Briscambille or Perceforêt would have done better than this dwarf, with his war-horse hardly half-an-ell in height.

When the Amazons saw this great army they warned the princess, who at once sent Abricotine to the kingdom of the fairies to beg her mother to tell her what she should do to drive little Furibon out of her states.

But Abricotine found the fairy very angry. “I know quite well all that my daughter is doing,” she said. “Prince Leander is in her palace. He loves her, and she loves him. All my care has not been able to save her from the tyranny of love, and now she is under his fatal sway. Alas! the cruel god is not satisfied with the harm he has done me: he exercises his power on what I love better than my life. Such are the decrees of fate, and I cannot resist them. Return, Abricotine; I do not wish even to hear of the daughter who grieves me in this way.”

Abricotine brought back the bad news to the princess, who was on the point of despair. Ariel was near her, invisible, and he saw with extreme sorrow her great grief.

He did not dare to speak to her at that moment, but he remembered that Furibon was very avaricious, and that by giving him money he might be induced to go away. So he dressed himself as an Amazon, and wished himself first of all in the forest, that he might secure his horse. He called out: “Grisdelin!” and Grisdelin came to him, leaping and bounding, for he was very wearied at being so long away from his dear master. But when he saw him dressed as a woman he did not recognise him, and feared some mistake.

When Leander arrived at Furibon’s camp everybody took him for an Amazon, so handsome was he. The king was told that a young lady wished to deliver him a message from the Princess of Calm Delights, so, quickly putting on his royal robes, he went and sat on his throne, looking like a big toad playing at being king.

Leander spoke, telling him that the princess, who preferred a quiet, peaceful life to the troubles of war, sent to offer him as much money as he wanted if she might be left in peace; but that, if he refused her offer, she would take every means to defend herself.

Furibon replied that he was willing to show mercy to her, that he accorded her the honour of his protection, and that she had only to send him a hundred thousand billions of gold coins and he would return at once to his own kingdom.

Leander said it would take too long to count so many, but that he had only to say how many roomfuls he wished for, and that the princess was generous enough and rich enough not to look to a gold coin more or less.

Furibon was much astonished that instead of beating him down they proposed to give him even more than he demanded. He thought to himself that he would do well to take all the money he could get; then he could arrest the Amazon and kill her, so that she might not return to her mistress. So he told Leander he would like thirty very large rooms quite filled with gold pieces, and he would give his word as a king to go back to his own country.

Leander was led into the rooms to be filled with gold, and, taking the rose, shook it and shook it till there rained from it torrents of gold coins as had never been seen. Nothing could have been prettier than this shower of gold.

Furibon was beside himself with joy, and the more gold he saw the more desirous was he of seizing the Amazon and carrying off the princess. As soon as the thirty rooms were full he cried to his guards “Arrest that cheat! It is false money she has brought me-arrest her!”.

All the guards tried to get hold of the Amazon, but at that moment the little red hat was put on, and Ariel disappeared. They thought he had fled outside, and running after him, they left Furibon alone. Then Ariel took him by the hair and disarmed him, before ever the unfortunate little king could even see the hand that was taking his life.

As soon as Ariel had secured the kings head he wished himself in the Palace of Delights. The princess was walking in the grounds thinking in deep sadness of what her mother had said, and wondering what means she could take to repulse Furibon. It was a very difficult task for her and her little band of Amazons, who could not possibly defend her against four hundred thousand men. But then she heard a voice saying: “Fear no more, dear princess; Furibon is dead, and will never again do you wrong”.

Abricotine recognised the voice of Leander, and cried out: “I assure you, madam, that the unseen one who is speaking is the stranger who came to my aid.”

The princess was astonished and delighted. “Ah!” she said, “if it is true that Ariel and the stranger are the same, I confess I should be very pleased to prove my gratitude to him.”

Ariel went away, saying: “I want still to work that I may be worthy of her.”

And he returned to the army of Furibon, the noise of whose death had been spread abroad. As soon as he appeared amongst them in his ordinary dress, everyone came up to him: the captains and the soldiers surrounded him, shouting aloud for joy, proclaiming him their king, and telling him the crown belonged to him. He divided the thirty rooms full of gold generously amongst them, so that the soldiers were made rich forever. And after some formalities, which assured Leander of the loyalty of the soldiers, he returned to the princess, ordering his army to make their way gradually back to his own kingdom.

The princess had gone to bed when Leander returned to the palace, and the deep respect which he had for her prevented his entering her room. So he went to his own, for he still kept the one below. He was tired enough to be glad of some rest, and this made him forget to shut the door as carefully as he usually did.

The princess, who was in a fever of anxiety, got up before the dawn, and in her morning went to her room downstairs. But what was her surprise to find Leander asleep on a bed! She had time enough to look at him without being seen, and to be convinced that it was the person whose portrait was in the diamond case.

“It is not possible,” she said, “that it is Ariel; for, do spirits sleep? Is that body made of air or fire, as Abricotine said? Does it not fill space?” She touched his hair gently: she heard him breathe, and she could not tear herself away, being half delighted and half alarmed at having found him.

Just as she was looking at him with eager eyes, her fairy mother entered with such a terrible noise that Leander awoke with a start. How surprised, how grieved he was to see his princess in the utmost despair! Her mother was dragging her off, loading her with reproaches. Oh, what grief for these young lovers about to be separated for ever!

The princess dared not say a word to this terrible fairy, and turned her eyes towards Leander as if to ask for help. He knew well enough that he could not keep her against the wish of so powerful a lady; but he trusted somewhat to his persuasive tongue and the mildness of his manner for appeasing this angry mother.

He ran after her, threw himself at her feet, and begged her to take pity on a young king who would never cease to love her daughter, and whose highest happiness would he to make her happy. The princess, encouraged by this example, then clung about her mother’s knees, saying that without the king she could not be content, and she owed him much.

“You do not know the trouble of love,” cried the fairy, “nor the treasons of which lovers are capable. They only fascinate in order to poison us. I have experienced it. Do you wish your fate to be like mine?”

“Ah, madam,” replied the princess, “is there no exception? Do you not think that the assurances which the king gives you, and which seem so sincere, will shelter me from what you dread?”

But the obstinate fairy let them sigh at her feet. In vain did they moisten her hands with their tears. She took no notice, and she would certainly never have forgiven them had not the lovely Fairy Gentille appeared in the room, shining brighter than the sun. The Graces accompanied her, and she was followed by a troop of loves, of sports, and of pleasures, who sang a thousand pretty songs that had never been heard before, dancing about as merry as children the while.

Embracing the old fairy, Gentille said: “My clear sister, I am sure you have not forgotten the services I did you when you wished to return to our kingdom. Had it not been for me you would never have been received. Since then I have asked for nothing in return; but at last the time is come when you can do me a real favour. Forgive this fair princess; give your consent to her marriage with this young king, and I will answer for him that he will never cease to love her. The web of their life will be spun with threads of silk and gold, and their union will give you infinite pleasure, while I shall never forget the kindness you have done me.”

“I consent to all you ask, dear Gentille,” cried the fairy. “Come, my children, come to my arms, and receive the assurance of my love.” With that she embraced the princess and her lover.

The Fairy Gentille was full of joy, and the whole troop began to sing the wedding hymns and the soft music having awakened all the nymphs of the palace, they came running in their light gauze robes to learn what was happening. Here was a pleasant surprise for Abricotine! No sooner had she set eyes on Leander than she recognised him; and seeing him holding the princess’s hand, she felt sure that they had both been made happy. What confirmed her was that the fairy mother said she would transport the Isle of Calm Delights, with the castle and all the wonders it contained, into Leander’s kingdom; that she would dwell with them there, and would heap still greater riches on them.

“Whatever your generosity may suggest to you to bestow on me,” answered the king, “it is impossible that you can give me anything equal to what I have received to-day.” This little compliment pleased the fairy very much, for she belonged to the olden time, when they would compliment each other all day long for some trifle no bigger than a pin-point.

As Gentille had forgotten nothing, she had had, by the power of Brelic Breloc, the generals and the captains of Furibon’s army brought to the palace of the princess, in order that they might be present at the splendid feast that was about to take place. It was she who took charge of the arrangements; and five or six volumes would not be enough to describe the comedies, the operas, the running at the ring, the music, the gladiator fights, the hunts, and the other splendid amusements of this charming wedding-feast.

But, most wonderful of all, each nymph found among the brave soldiers that Gentille had brought to this beautiful spot, a husband as affectionate as if she had known him for ten years. Yet their acquaintance had only lasted four-and-twenty hours; but then the little wand can do even more wonderful things than that.

French Fairy Tale by the Countess d’Aulnoy

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Love

1. Leander loves the Princess. What are some of the ways that he shows his love in this story?

2. Do you think it’s important to do things for the people we love? Why or why not?  

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The post Prince Ariel first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand if your child is sensitive to such themes.

There was once upon a time a king who was very rich in lands and money. When his wife died he was inconsolable, and for eight whole days he shut himself up in a little room, and knocked his head against the wall, so desperate was he.

They feared lest he should kill himself, and they therefore put mattresses between the tapestry and the wall, so that however hard he might strike his head, he could do himself no harm. All his subjects planned amongst themselves to go and see him, and to say everything they could think of as likely to comfort him in his sorrow. Some of them made up grave and serious speeches; others again went with cheerful, even gay words on their tongues, but none of them made any impression on him. In fact he hardly heard what they said.

At last there came before him a woman clad all in black crape, with veil and mantle and long mourning garments, who wept and sobbed so loud and so violently that he was filled with astonishment. She said that, unlike the others, she had come with the object of adding to, rather than of lessening, his grief; for what could be more natural than to sorrow for a good wife? As for her, she had had the best husband in the whole world, and it was her part now to weep for him while she had eyes in her head. Thereupon she redoubled her cries, and the king following her example, began to wail aloud.

He gave her a better reception than he had done to the others, entertaining her with an account of the fine qualities of his dear dead lady, while she waxed eloquent on those of her beloved husband. They talked and talked till they had not a word more to say on the subject of their sorrows. When the cunning widow saw that there was nothing more to be said on the matter, she lifted her veil just a little, and it was some relief to the king in the midst of his distress to look on this poor lady afflicted like himself. Her large blue eyes, fringed with long black eyelashes, she rolled this way and that way, to make the most of their beauty; and then her cheeks were rosy too. The king looked at her very attentively.

Gradually he spoke less of his wife; then he stopped speaking of her altogether. The widow still declared she would always lament her husband, but the king begged her not to sorrow for ever. In the end, to everybody’s astonishment, he married her; and her mourning garments were changed to gowns of green and rose colour. It often happens that you have but to know people’s weak points to win their hearts and do with them what you will.

The king had only one daughter by his first marriage, and she was looked on as the eighth wonder of the world. They called her Florine, because she was like Flora, so fresh and young and beautiful was she. She did not care to be dressed very grandly, but liked rather robes of floating taffeta, with jewelled clasps, and garlands of flowers to adorn her lovely hair. When the king married again she was only fifteen years old.

The new queen sent for her own daughter, who had been brought up in the house of her god-mother, Soussio the fairy, though she was none the more graceful or beautiful for that. Soussio had done what she could for her, but without success. Yet she loved her dearly none the less.

They called the girl Truitonne, for her face had as many red spots as a trout. Her black hair was so dirty and greasy that you could not touch it, and oil oozed out from her yellow skin. All the same the queen loved her to distraction, and would speak of nothing but of Truitonne’s charms.

But as Florine was far more attractive, the queen was in despair. In all kinds of ways she tried to raise quarrels between her and the king, and not a day passed but she and Truitonne did Florine some bad turn. The princess was, however, good-tempered and intelligent, and endeavoured to take no notice of their bad behaviour.

One day the king said to the queen that Florine and Truitonne were old enough to be married, and that the hand of one of them must be bestowed on the first prince who should come to the court.

“I think,” said the queen “that my daughter should be thought of first of all, seeing that she is older than yours; and as she is far more amiable there can be no hesitation in agreeing to this.” The king did not like disputing, so he said he was quite willing, and the queen might do as she liked.

Some little time after they heard that King Charming was going to pay them a visit. Never was there so splendid and so gallant a prince, and every thing in his mind and person answered to his name. When the queen heard of his coming she employed all the embroiderers, and all the dressmakers, and all the craftsmen, to make things for Truitonne. She begged the king to give Florine nothing new; and, by bribing her maids, she had all her dresses, and wreaths, and jewels taken away the very day that Charming arrived, so that when the princess wished to deck herself she could not find so much as a ribbon.

Florine was well aware to whom she owed this bad turn. When she sent to buy stuffs the merchants told her the queen had forbidden them to sell her any. So she had nothing to put on but a dirty little frock; and so much ashamed of it was she that she sat down in a corner of the hall when King Charming came in.

The queen received him with much ceremony, and presented her daughter to him, clad in the most splendid apparel, and uglier than usual in her grandeur. When the king turned away his eyes the queen would have liked to persuade her self that it was because Truitonne dazzled him too much, and that he feared the effect of her charms on him; so she always pushed her forward.

He asked if there was not another princess called Florine.

“Yes,” said Truitonne, pointing to her. “She is hiding over there, because she is not very nicely dressed.” Florine blushed, and looked at that moment so beautiful, so very, very beautiful, that King Charming was quite dazzled.

Rising quickly, he made a deep bow to the princess, saying:

“Madam, your incomparable beauty already adorns you too well for you to need any other aid “.

“Your majesty,” she answered, “I must tell you I am little accustomed to wearing so poor a dress as this, and I should have liked better had you taken no notice of me.”

“It would have been impossible,” cried Charming, “that so lovely a princess should have been anywhere near me and that I should have had eyes for anyone else.”

“Ah,” said the queen, who was much annoyed. “What a waste of time is this! Believe me, sire, Florine is vain enough already. She doesn’t need so many compliments paid to her.”

King Charming understood at once the motives that made the queen speak in this way, but as he was not in a humour to restrain his feelings he let all his admiration for Florine be seen, and talked to her for three hours on end.

The queen was in despair; and Truitonne was inconsolable at not being preferred to the princess. They complained loudly to the king, and forced him to consent during King Charming’s stay to shut Florine up in a tower, where they would not see each other. So as soon as she had gone back to her room four men with masks carried her off to the top of the tower, and left her there in the utmost distress. She knew quite well she was only treated thus to prevent her from pleasing King Charming, whom she already liked very much and whom she would willing have accepted as a husband.

As Charming was ignorant of the wrong they had done to the princess, he was waiting the hour when he would see her again with the greatest impatience. He spoke of her to those whom the king had ordered to be in attendance on him, but by the queen’s command they told him all the harm they could of her – that she was vain, and of an uncertain and violent temper, that she was a plague to her friends and her servants, that she was slovenly, and so avaricious that she preferred to be dressed like a little shepherdess rather than to buy rich stuffs with the money the king, her father, gave her.

Charming writhed to hear all this, and he had much ado to restrain the anger that stirred within him.

“No,” he said to himself. “It is not possible that heaven should have made so evil a soul to dwell in nature’s masterpiece. I own she was not suitably dressed when I saw her, but her evident shame shows she is not used to being in that condition, What! So they tell me she could be wicked with that charming look of modesty and gentleness! Such a thing could not possibly be it is easier for me to believe that the queen slanders her. She is not a step-mother for nothing, and Princess Truitonne is such an ugly creature that it would not be strange if she were jealous of the most perfect being in the world.”

While he was thinking over all this, the courtiers who were with him saw quite well from his manner that he was not pleased at their speaking evil of Florine. There was one amongst them sharper than the others, and he, changing his tone and language in order to find out what the prince really felt, began to pay compliments to the princess. At this Charming woke up as from a profound sleep, and took part in the conversation, his face showing perfectly the joy he felt.

Love, how difficult it is to hide thee! Thou art everywhere visible, on a lover’s lips, in his eyes, in the sound of his voice. When we love, the signs of it appear in our every action, in our silence, our conversation, in our joy, in our sorrow.

The queen, impatient to know if King Charming was really impressed, sent for those she had taken into her confidence, and she spent the rest of the night in questioning them. All they told her only served to confirm the opinion that the king was in love with Florine.

But what shall I say of the melancholy condition of that poor princess, as she lay on the floor of the dungeon in that terrible tower into which the masked men had brought her?

“It would be easier to bear,” she said, “if they had put me here before I had seen that king, who is so amiable. The recollection of him only makes my distress harder to bear, and I have no doubt that it is to hinder me from seeing him any more that the queen treats me so cruelly. Alas! whatever beauty heaven may have endowed me with will have to be paid for by my happiness!” Then she cried, and cried so bitterly, that her worst enemy would have been sorry for her had she seen her misery.

So the night passed. The queen, who wished to attach King Charming to her by all the marks of attention possible, sent him costumes of a richness and magnificence nowhere else to be found, fashioned after the mode of the country, and also the Order of the Knights of Love, which she had made the king institute on their wedding-day. It was a golden heart enamelled in fire-colour. There were several arrows round it, and one that pierced it through, and the words: One alone wounds me.

The queen had had the heart for Charming’s order cut out of a ruby as big as an ostrich’s egg. Each arrow was made of a single diamond as long as your finger, and the chain from which it hung was made of pearls, the smallest of which weighed a pound. In short, since the beginning of the world, a like thing had never been seen.

At sight of it the king was so astounded that for some minutes he could not speak. At the same time he was presented with a book, the leaves of which were of vellum, with wonderful miniatures. The cover was of gold, studded with precious stones, and it contained the statutes of the Order of the Knights of Love, written in very tender and very gallant style.

They told the king that the princess whom he had seen begged him to be her knight, and that she sent him this present. On hearing this he flattered himself it might be from her whom he loved.

“What! the fair Princess Florine!” cried he. “She remembers me in so charming and so generous a fashion.”

“Your majesty,” they said. “You make a mistake in the name. It is from the lovely Truitonne we come.”

“Then it is Truitonne who begs me to be her knight?” said the king, in a cold and serious manner. “I am sorry not to be able to accept this honour, but a sovereign is not sufficiently his own master to do everything he would like. I know the duties of a knight, and I would like to fulfil them all, but I prefer rather to decline the favours she offers me than to prove myself unworthy of them.”

So saying, he put back the heart, the chain, and the book in the same basket, and returned all of them to the queen, who, as well as her daughter, was nearly mad with rage at the scornful way in which the stranger king had received so special a favour.

As soon as he found opportunity he went to the apartment of the king and queen, hoping Florine would be there, and looking about everywhere to see her. Whenever anyone came into the room he turned his head abruptly towards the door, and seemed anxious and disappointed. The wicked queen knew well enough what was passing in his mind, but she did not let him see that she did, and spoke of nothing but pleasure-parties, receiving from him quite foolish answers in return.

At last he asked where the Princess Florine was.

“Your Majesty,” said the queen, hotly. “The king, her father, has forbidden her to leave her own apartments till my daughter be married.”

“And what reason can there be for keeping this fair lady a prisoner?”

“I do not know,” said the queen. “And even if I did I might be excused from telling you.”

The king was in a fury of passion, and cast black looks at Truitonne as he thought to himself it was on account of that little monster that they robbed him of the pleasure of seeing the princess. Then he left the queen abruptly, for her presence was more than he could bear.

When he was again in his own room he told a young prince who had come with him, and whom he loved dearly, to give any bribe in the world to one of the attendants of the princess, so that he might speak with her a moment. The prince had no difficulty in finding some ladies-in-waiting who were willing to be taken into his confidence, and one of them assured him that every evening Florine would be at a little window overlooking the garden, where she could speak to him, provided he took great precautions to prevent its being known. “For,” she added, “the king and the queen are so severe that they would kill me if they discovered that I had favoured Charming’s suit.”

The prince, de lighted at having thus far succeeded, promised all she wished, and ran to pay his respects to the king, and to tell him the hour appointed. But the faithless waiting-woman did not fail to go and warn the queen of what was going on, and to take her orders accordingly.

The queen at once made up her mind to send her daughter to the little window. She gave her instructions what to do, and Truitonne remembered them every one, though she was naturally very stupid.

The night was so dark that it would have been impossible for the king to see the trick that was being played him, even if he had been less confident than he was. So he drew near to the window with such transports of joy as cannot be described, and said to Truitonne all he would have said to Florine, to persuade her to believe what love he felt for her.

Truitonne, making the best of the opportunity, told him she was the most unhappy girl in the world to have so cruel a step-mother, and that she would always have to suffer till her step-sister should get married. The king assured her that if she would have him for a husband he would be delighted to share with her his crown and his heart.

So saying, he drew the ring from his finger, and putting it on Truitonne’s, he told her it was for an everlasting token of his faith, and that she had only to fix the time and they would set off without delay. Truitonne gave what answer she could to all his passionate speeches, but he noticed that there was very little in what she said. This would have grieved him had he not persuaded himself that the fear of being surprised by the queen was a check on her spirits. He only left her on condition that he might come back next night at the same hour, to which she consented with the utmost willingness. The queen was in great hopes after hearing of the success of this interview.

Now the day of their escape being fixed, the king came to take the princess away in a flying chaise, drawn by winged frogs, which one of his friends, a wizard, had made him a present of. The night was very dark. Truitonne crept out of a little door with great mystery, and the king, who was waiting for her, received her in his arms and swore eternal faithfulness to her. But as he had no desire to go flying through the air in this chaise for ever so long without marrying the princess whom he loved, he asked her when she would like their wedding to take place.

She told him that she had for god-mother a very celebrated fairy called Soussio, and that she wished to go and visit her at her castle. Although the king did not know the way, he had nothing to do but tell his big frogs to take them there, for they knew the chart of the whole world, and in no time they landed the king and Truitonne at Soussio’s dwelling.

The castle was so brilliantly lighted that there the king would have found out his mistake had not the princess carefully covered herself with her veil. Having asked to see her god-mother she spoke to her in private, telling her how she had entrapped Charming, and begging Soussio to make her peace with him.

“But, my daughter,” said the fairy, “that is no easy thing. He is much too fond of Florine for that, and I feel certain he will disappoint us.”

Meanwhile the king awaited them in a hail, whose walls were of diamonds, so clear and transparent that through them he saw Soussio and Truitonne talking together. He thought he must be dreaming.

“What,” he said, “have I been tricked? Have the demons brought hither that enemy of our happiness? Has she come to interfere with my marriage? My dear Florine is not to be seen. Perhaps her father has followed her.”

All kinds of things suggested themselves to his mind, and he began to be in despair. But it was much worse when they came into the room, and when Soussio said, in a commanding tone: “King Charming, here is Princess Truitonne, to whom you have pledged your word. She is my god and I command that you marry her at once.”

“What, I?” cried the king. “I marry this little monster? You must think me of a very docile disposition since you make such a proposal to me. In truth, I have promised her nothing, and if she says anything to the contrary she . . .”

“Stop,” interrupted Soussio, “and never be so bold as to fail in respect for me.”

“I am quite willing,” answered the king, “to give you all the respect that is due to a fairy, provided that you give me back my princess.”

“And am I not your Princess, faithless wretch?” said Truitonne, showing him the ring. “To whom did you give this ring as a token of fidelity? To whom did you speak at the little window, if not to me?”

“What!” he cried; “I have been tricked and deceived! But, no; I shall not be your dupe. Quick there! my frogs, my frogs! I shall depart at once!

“Ho!” said Soussio. “That is not in your power unless I give leave”; and so saying she touched him, and his feet stuck fast to the floor as if they had been nailed to it.

“Though you were to stone me, or to flog me,” said the king, “I shall never own another mistress but Florine. On this I am determined, and, knowing that, you can use your power as you like.”

Soussio tried every means to soften his resolve–gentleness, threats, promises, supplications. Truitonne wept, cried aloud, groaned, flew into tempers, and cooled down again. The king said not a word; and looking at them both with the most scornful air in the world, paid not the faintest attention to all they said to him.

Twenty days and twenty nights passed away in this fashion, during which they never stopped talking, never ate, never slept, never sat down. At last Soussio, tired out, could endure it no longer, and said to the king: “Well, you are indeed stubborn! Why will you not listen to reason? Take your choice: you shall have seven years’ penance for having made a promise you have not kept, or you shall marry my god.

The king, who had never uttered a word till now, cried out suddenly: “Do whatever you like with me, only deliver me from this detestable creature!”

“I am no more detestable than you,” said Truitonne, wrathfully. “You silly little king, coming with your equipage, fit only for the bogs, to my country, to insult and to break faith with me. If you had a particle of honour, would you behave so?”

“These reproaches touch me deeply,” said the king, in mocking tone. “How foolish not to take so fair a lady for my wife!”

“No, no,” said Soussio, angrily. “She will never marry you. You have only to fly out of the window if you want to. For seven years you will be changed into a blue bird.”

At that moment the king’s person changed. His arms were covered with feathers, and turned into wings. His legs and feet became black and shrunken, with hooked claws. His body dwindled in size, and was all covered with long fine feathers, some of them of sky blue; his eyes became round, and shone like two planets; his nose was nothing but an ivory beak; and on his head stood up a white plume in the shape of a crown. He could sing exquisitely and speak too. He uttered a cry of pain to see himself metamorphosed, and flew as fast as ever he could to escape from Soussio’s horrible palace.

In the melancholy state into which he had fallen he hopped about from branch to branch, choosing only those trees consecrated to love and sorrow: now on a myrtle, now on a cypress, singing sad songs, in which he lamented the evil fortune that pursued Florine anti himself.

“Where have her enemies hidden her?” said he. “What has become of that fair victim? Does the cruelty of the queen still deprive her of her liberty? Where can I seek for her? Am I doomed to spend seven years without her? Perhaps during that time they will give her in marriage, and I shall lose for ever the hope that sustains my life.” All these thoughts so filled Blue Bird with despair that he wished to die.

To return to Truitonne: the fairy Soussio sent her back to the queen, who was most anxious to hear how the wedding had passed off. But when she saw her daughter, and heard from her all that had happened, she flew into a terrible passion, of which the full force fell on poor Florine.

“She shall duly repent,” said the queen, “of having found favour in Charming’s eyes.” She went up the tower with Truitonne, whom she had dressed in her grandest clothes. On her head was a diamond crown, and three daughters of the richest barons in the kingdom held the train of her royal mantle. On her thumb was Charming’s ring that Florine had noticed the day they had talked together. She was very much surprised to see Truitonne in such gorgeous apparel.

“Here comes my daughter, who brings you presents in honour of her wedding,” said the queen. “King Charming has married her; he loves her to distraction, and there never were two happier people.” Then they spread out before the princess gold and silver stuffs, jewels, laces, ribbons, in great baskets of gold filigree work. In presenting all these things Truitonne never forgot for a moment to make the king’s ring flash; and Princess Florine, no longer able to hide from herself her misfortune, begged them with cries of despair to take all these miserable presents out of her sight, that she would never again wear anything hut black, or rather that she would like now to die. Then she fainted, and the cruel queen, delighted at her success, would not allow anyone to come to Florine’s aid. She left her alone in the most deplorable condition, and went and told the king maliciously that his daughter was so excited by her love that nothing could equal the absurd things she did, and that on no account must they allow her to get out of the tower. The king said she might manage the matter as she liked, and he would be satisfied whatever she did.

When the princess recovered from her fainting fit, and began to reflect on the way she was treated, the cruelty of her wicked step-mother towards her, and the hope she was losing for ever of marrying King Charming, her grief became so keen that she cried all night, and in this condition she sat herself down at the window where she uttered sad and plaintive laments. When day was near she shut the window and wept anew.

The following night she opened the window and sat heaving deep sighs, sobbing bitterly, and shedding torrents of tears. When day came she retired into her room. But King Charming, or rather the beautiful Blue Bird, flew round and round the palace, thinking his dear princess was inside; and if her laments were sad, his were no less so. He came as near to the windows as he could to peer into the room, but the fear lest Truitonne should see him, and discover who he was, kept him from doing all he wished.

“It would cost me my life,” said he to himself. “If those wicked princesses find out where I am they will seek to revenge themselves. I must go away if I do not wish to run into the utmost danger.” These considerations made him take great precautions, and as a rule he sang only at night-time.

In front of Florine’s window was a cypress of a tremendous height, and there the blue bird came and perched. Hardly was he there before he heard the cries of a lady.

“How long will my sufferings last?” she said. “Will death not come to my aid? To those who fear him he comes but too soon, but for me, who long for him, he tarries cruelly. Ah, cruel queen! what harm have done you that you should keep me shut up in this horrible prison? Are there not other ways enough in which to torture me? You need only let me look on at the happiness which your wicked daughter enjoys with King Charming.’

The blue bird had lost not a word of this lament, which filled him with astonishment, and he waited for daylight with the utmost impatience to see the sorrowful lady. But before the dawn she had shut her window and gone out of sight.

The bird, full of curiosity, did not fail to return next night. By the light of the moon that was then in the sky he saw a damsel at the window of the tower, and heard her beginning her lament. “Fortune,” she said-” that flatters me by setting me in a place of power; that made me the darling of my father- what have I done that thou shouldst all at once plunge me into the bitterest waters? Should I begin to feel thy changefulness in these my tender years? Return, cruel one; return, if possible, and all I ask of thee is to end my unhappy life.”

The blue bird listened, and the longer he listened the more persuaded was he that it was his dear princess who was uttering these laments.

“Adorable Florine,” he said, “the wonder of our days, why do you long that yours should be so soon ended? Your misfortunes are not without a remedy.”

“Ah! who is it speaks to me with words of comfort?” she cried.

“An unhappy king,’ replied the bird. “He loves you, and will never love anyone else.”

“A king who loves me?” she said. “Is this some snare my enemy has laid for me? But in the end what would she gain by it? If she seeks to find out what my feelings are, I am ready to make them all known to her.”

“No, my princess he answered. “The lover who now speaks to you is not capable of betraying you.” And so saying he flew on to the window-sill.

At first Florine was very much afraid of a bird so strange, that spoke as sensibly as a man, though in the gentle notes of a nightingale. But the beauty of its plumage and the words it said reassured her.

“Do I in truth see you again, my princess?” he cried. “Can I taste such perfect happiness and not die for joy? But, alas! how my joy is troubled by your captivity, and at the shape into which Soussio has changed me for seven years.”

“And who are you, you charming bird?” said the princess, caressing him.

“You call me by my name,” said the king, “and you pretend not to know me!”

“What!” said the princess. “The little bird in my hand is King- Charming!”

“Alas! fair Florine, it is but too true,” he replied. “And if anything could console me it is that I have preferred to suffer this rather than give up my love for you.”

“For me!” said Florine. “Ah! do not seek to deceive me. I know, I know that you have married Truitonne. I recognised the ring on her finger as yours. I saw her sparkling with the diamonds you had given her. She came to insult me in my sad captivity, wearing a grand crown and royal mantle that she got from you; and all the while I was laden with chains and irons.”

“You saw Truitonne in such a dress!” interrupted the king. “Her mother and herself have dared to say that these baubles came from me! Heaven! is it possible I hear such horrible lies, and that I cannot take my revenge on the spot? Believe me, they tried to deceive me, and by using your name they managed to make me run away with the hideous Truitonne, but as soon as I discovered my mistake I left her, choosing rather to be Blue Bird for seven long years than break my troth to you.”

Florine was in such delight to hear these words from her dear lover that she forgot altogether her sufferings in the prison. What did she not say to him to comfort him for his sad mischance, and to persuade him that she would do no less for him than he had done for her? The day appeared, and the greater number of the officers of the court were already stirring while Blue Bird and the princess were still speaking together. It was terrible to tear themselves apart, and they only did so after promising to see each other in this way every night. The joy they felt at having found each other again was so great that there are no words to describe it. Each of them in turn gave thanks to Love and Fortune, yet Florine was sad on Blue Bird’s account.

“Who will protect him from the fowlers?” she said. “Or from the sharp claw of some eagle or famished vulture? Who will devour him none the less greedily that he is a great king. O heaven! what would become of me if his light and delicate feathers, driven by the wind, were to come to my prison and to announce the danger that I fear?”

For this thought the princess could not close an eye, for when one is in love illusions appear real, and what at another time would be thought impossible seems easy then, so that she spent her day in weeping till the hour came to seat herself at the window.

The lovely bird, hidden in the hollow of a tree, had been all day long thinking of his dear princess. “How happy I am!” he said, “to have found her again! Anti how charming she is! And how grateful I am for all her kindness to me!” This tender lover counted every moment of the time of trial during which he could not marry her, and never was the end of anything longed for more passionately. As he wished to pay Florine every attention within his power, he flew to the capital of his kingdom, entered his own room by a broken pane of glass, chose out diamond ear-rings so perfect and so beautiful that nothing in the world could be compared to them. That evening he took them to Florine, and begged her to put them on.

“I would do so willingly,” she said, “if you saw me during the day, but since I never speak to you but in the night I shall not put them on.” The bird promised to choose his time so well that he would come to the tower at any hour she liked. Then she put on the ear-rings, and the night, like the last, was spent in talking.

The next day Blue Bird returned to his kingdom, went to his palace, entered his own room by the broken pane, and carried off the richest bracelets that were ever seen. They were made of a single emerald, cut in facets, with a hole bored through the middle through which to pass the hand and wrist.

“Do you think that my love for you needs to be fed by gifts? Ah, how little you know of it!”

“No, madam,” he answered; “I do not think that the trifles I offer you are needed to safeguard your tenderness for me, but mine would suffer hurt if I neglected any opportunity of showing my attention, and when I am away from you these little trinkets will remind you of me.”

Florine answered him with many loving words, to which he replied by others none the less so.

The following night the bird, eager to show his love, did not fail to bring to his fair lady a watch of just the right size. It was encased in a pearl, and the excellence of the workmanship excelled even the material it was made of.

“What is the use of a watch to me?” she said, by way of a compliment. “When you are away from me the hours seem never-ending. When you are with me they pass like a dream. And thus I can never measure them exactly.”

“Alas! my princess,” cried Blue Bird, “I feel just as you do; indeed I believe I feel this even more keenly than yourself.”

“After what you suffer by reason of your faithfulness to me,” she answered, “I am ready to believe that greater respect and love than you bear me would be impossible.”

As soon as daylight appeared the bird flew into the hollow of his tree, where he lived on fruits. Sometimes he would sing beautiful airs, delighting the passers-by, who hearing him and seeing no one, came to the conclusion that it was spirit voices they heard. This opinion became so common that no one dared enter the wood. Endless fabulous adventures were recounted, and in the general terror consisted Blue Bird’s safety. Never a day passed but he made some present to Florine, a pearl necklace, or rings with the most brilliant jewels and of the finest workmanship, clusters of diamonds, bodkins, bouquets of precious stones to imitate the colours of flowers, delightful books, medals-in short, an endless number of rare wonders. She never decked herself except in the night-time to please the king, and during the day, having nowhere else to put her fine things, she hid them carefully in her mattress.

Two years passed away like this, and Florine never once uttered a complaint about her imprisonment. And why should she have done so? Every night she had the satisfaction of speaking to her love, and never were such pretty things said as during these conversations. Although she saw no one, and Blue Bird passed the day in the hollow of a tree, they had always a thousand fresh things to say to each other. Their material was inexhaustible, for in their own hearts and minds they found abundant subjects of conversation.

Meanwhile the wicked queen, who kept her in this cruel fashion in prison, was making vain efforts to get Truitonne married. She sent ambassadors to offer her to all the princes whose names she knew, but as soon as they arrived they were sent away without ceremony.

“If you had come about Princess Florine, we should have welcomed you gladly,” they were told. “But for Truitonne, she may remain a vestal for ever for all anybody cares.”

Hearing this, Truitonne and her mother were beside themselves with anger against the innocent princess whom they persecuted.

“What!” they said. “In spite of her being in prison, this bold hussy comes in our way! How can we ever forgive the evil turns she has done us? She must keep up a secret correspondence with foreign countries. She is a State criminal, and must be dealt with as such. Let us seek her conviction.”

Their consultation lasted so long that it was nearly midnight when they decided to mount the tower to question the Princess. Florine was with Blue Bird at the window, decked in all her jewels, her beautiful hair dressed with a care which is not usual with anyone in distress. Her room and her bed were heaped with flowers, and the Spanish pastilles which she had been burning gave out a delicious scent. Listening at the door, the queen thought she heard a two-part song being sung. Florine had a voice like an angel’s, and what she now sang sounded to the queen like a love song. Here are the words of it:–

“Weary our lot and full of woe,


And all our days in pain are spent,


Oh! hard and cruel punishment!


Because our love we’d not forego


Yet may they plot and plague us ever,


Our constant hearts they cannot sever.”

What sighs followed their little concert!

“Ah, my Truitonne, we are betrayed!” cried the queen, suddenly throwing the door open and bursting into the room. At sight of her, Florine was in despair. She closed the little window without delay to give time to Blue Bird to fly off, much more anxious about his safety than her own. But he had not the strength to go. His keen eyes had recognised the danger to which the princess was exposed. He had seen the queen and Truitonne, and he deplored the sad fate that hindered him from protecting his mistress.

They approached her like furies ready to devour her. “Your plots against the State are known,” cried the queen. “Do not imagine that your rank will save you from the punishment you deserve.”

“And with whom have I plotted, madam?” answered the princess. “You have been my gaoler for two years, have you not? Have I seen any persons but those you have sent to me?”

While she was speaking the queen and her daughter were examining her with the utmost wonder, for her marvellous beauty and her wonderful apparel dazzled them.

“And whence, madam, come these jewels that shine brighter than the sun?” said the queen. “Will you have us believe that there are mines of them in this tower?”

“I found them here,” replied Florine; “that is all I know.”

The queen looked at her searchingly to see what was passing in Florine’s secret heart.

“We are not your dupes,” she said. “You think you can deceive us: but, princess, we know all you do from morning till night. You have been given all these jewels as a bribe to you to sell your father’s kingdom.”

“Of course I should be the very person to do such a thing,” she replied, with a disdainful smile. “An unhappy princess, who has languished in prison for years, can do a great deal in a plot of that kind!”

“And for whom then have you decked your hair like a little coquette; for whom does the pastille scent your room; and for whom have you put on such gay apparel, more magnificent than if you had been to appear at the court?”

“I have time enough on my hands,” said the princess. “It is, therefore, not strange that I spend a few moments on my own adornment. I need hardly reproach myself on account of that, seeing I have to spend so many in weeping for my unhappy lot.”

“Ha! but we shall see if this innocent damsel has not all the same made a treaty with our enemies.”

There upon she set to searching all round, and coming to the bed, which she had shaken out, she found in it such a quantity of diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds, topazes, that she could not think where they had come from. She had determined to hide somewhere papers of such a nature as would ruin the princess. When no one was looking she hid them in the chimney, but by good luck Blue Bird was perched on the top of it, and seeing better than a lynx, and hearing all, he cried: “Take care, Florine; your enemy is seeking to betray you “.

This voice, so unexpected, frightened the queen to such a degree that she did not dare to do what she had intended.

“You see, madam,” said the princess, “that the spirits of the air are my friends.”

“I believe,” answered the queen, beside herself with anger, “that you have the demons on your side, but in spite of them your father will know how to right himself.”

“Heaven grant,” cried Florine, “that I may never have worse to fear than my father’s wrath! Yours, madam, is more terrible.”

The queen left her in great trouble at all she had seen and heard, and took counsel as to what she should do to defeat the princess. They told her that if some fairy or some enchanter had taken her under their protection, it would only irritate them to torment her further, and it would he best to try to discover her secret.

The queen approved of this suggestion, and sent a young girl to sleep in her room, who played the part of an innocent, and by her orders told Florine she had come for the purpose of waiting on her. But it was not very likely the princess would fall into such a clumsy trap. Florine looked on her as a spy, and she was more troubled than ever.

“What! I can never speak again to the bird that is so dear to me!” she said. “He helped me to bear my sorrows; I comforted him in his: our love was everything to us. What will he do? What shall I do myself?” And thinking on all this, her eyes flowed with tears.

No longer did she dare to sit at the little window, although she heard the bird flying about. She was dying to open it for him, but she feared to run any risk with her dear lover’s life. She spent a whole month without showing herself at the window, and Blue Bird was in despair. How he did lament! How was he to live without seeing his princess? Never had he felt more keenly the misfortunes of absence and of his metamorphosis, and he sought remedies in vain for one and the other. He racked his brains and found no comfort.

The princess’s spy, who had been watching day and night for a month, was so overcome with fatigue that at last she fell into a deep sleep. Florine noticed this, and opening the little window, she called out:–

“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,
 Haste to where I wait for you”.

These are her own words, which it has been thought best to keep unchanged. The bird heard them so distinctly that he came at once to the window. What joy to see each other again! How much they had to tell! Loving words and vows of faithfulness were repeated again and again; and when the princess could not keep from shedding tears her lover was melted with pity, and sought to console her as best he could. At last, the hour of parting having come, they said farewell to each other in the tenderest way, though the gaoler had not yet awakened.

The next day again the spy fell asleep: the princess without delay sat down at the window, saying, as before:–

“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,
 Haste to where I wait for you”.


The bird came at the moment, and the night passed like the other without noise or disturbance, and our lovers were delighted, flattering themselves that the watcher would be so glad to sleep that she would do so every night. And, in fact, the third one passed very happily too.

But on the following night the sleeper heard a noise, and lay listening quietly. Then she peered out curiously, and by the light of the moon saw the prettiest bird in the world speaking to the princess, and caressing her with his claws and pecking at her softly. Then she heard some words of their conversation, which astonished her greatly, for the bird spoke like a lover, and Florine answered with affection.

Day dawned: they said farewell; and as they felt a presentiment of coming misfortune, they parted in great sorrow. The princess threw herself on her bed bathed in tears, and the king returned to his hollow tree. Her gaoler ran to the queen, and told her all she had seen and heard. The queen sent for Truitonne and her confidants, and after a long consultation they came to the conclusion that Blue Bird was King Charming.

“What an insult!” cried the queen; “What an insult, Truitonne! This insolent princess, who I thought was in such distress, has been enjoying at her ease the pleasant company of that ungrateful wretch. Ah! but I shall have my revenge, and in so deadly a way that it will be heard of!”

Truitonne begged her not to lose a moment; and, as she thought the matter concerned her more nearly than the queen, she was beside herself with joy at the thought of all that was going to be done to the hurt of the lover and his mistress.

The queen sent the spy again to the tower, ordering her to show neither suspicion nor curiosity, and to pretend to be in a deeper sleep than usual. She went to bed early, and snored as loud as she could, and the poor princess, deceived, opened the little window and:–

“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,
 Haste to where I wait for you”.

But all night long she called in vain; he did not come. For the wicked queen had tied spears and knives and razors and daggers to the cypress, and when he was alighting on it with all speed, these deadly weapons cut his feet. Then he fell on others which cut his wings, till at last, wounded all over, he flew in terrible pain to his tree, leaving a long track of blood.

“Why were you not there, fair princess, to comfort this royal bird?” he thought. But in truth she would have died to see him in such a deplorable condition. Meanwhile the Prince did not care to tend his life in any way, thinking that it must have been Florine who had played him this trick.

“Ah, cruel one,” he said, in sorrow, “is it thus you reward the purest and the tenderest passion, such as the world can never know again? If you desired my death, why did you not seek it yourself? Death would have been a precious gift from your hand! I was coming to meet you with such love and confidence. I was suffering for you, suffering without complaint. And now you have sacrificed me to the cruellest of women. She was the enemy of both of us, and you have made your peace with her at my expense. And it is you, Florine, you, who wound me! You have borrowed Truitonne’s hand and aimed it at my bosom!” And overcome by these sad thoughts, he determined to die.

But his friend the enchanter, who had seen the flying frogs come back with the chariot, but no trace of the king, was so anxious as to what might have happened to him that he went round the world eight times in his search, but in vain. He was just making his ninth round when he entered the wood where the king was. According to the rules which had to be observed, he blew a long blast on the horn, and then called out as loud as he could: “King Charming, King Charming, where are you?”

The king knew the voice for that of his best friend. “Come,” he answered “come to this tree, and see the unhappy king whom you love drowned in his blood.”

The enchanter looked all round in surprise without seeing anything.

“I am a blue bird,” said the king, in a weak and languid tone.

Hearing this, the enchanter found him without trouble in his little nest. Any other would have been much more astonished than he was, but there was not a trick of necromancy that was unknown to him. A word or two was enough to stop the blood that was flowing still, and with some herbs that he found in the wood, over which he muttered some magic words, he cured the king as completely as though he had never been wounded. Then he begged him to tell him by what mischance he had been turned into a bird, and also asked him who had wounded him so cruelly.

The king satisfied his curiosity saying that it was Florine who had revealed the sacred mystery of the secret visits he paid to her, and that to make her peace with the queen she had allowed the cypress to be stuck all over with daggers and razors, by which he had been well nigh hacked to pieces. He railed against the faithlessness of the princess saying he would rather have died than have known the wickedness of her heart.

The magician broke out against her and against all women, and advised the king to forget all about her. “Think what a misfortune it would be were you capable of still loving that ungrateful princess. After what she has done you, anything might be expected of her.”

But Blue Bird was not of this opinion. He loved Florine still too dearly, and the enchanter, who knew what he was thinking in spite of all the trouble he took to hide it, said to him:–

“Reason is vain and comfort pales


In midst of desolation.


The ear lists only the heart’s cries,


Is closed to consolation.


Time with his torch will yet ere long


Light up the darkest spot,


But till that brighter hour come round


Comfort availeth not.”

And the royal bird agreed. Then he begged his friend to take him home and put him in a cage, where he would be safe from the cat and from murderous weapons.

“But,” said the enchanter, “will you remain for five years still in a condition so deplorable and so little befitting your duties and your dignity? For, frankly, you have enemies who declare that you are dead. They wish to take possession of your kingdom, and I fear it may be lost to you before you have regained your former shape.”

“Could I not go to my palace and carry on the government as I used to do?”

“Ah!” cried his friend, “that would be difficult. They who would willingly obey a man would hardly own a parrot as master; and while they would fear you as a king surrounded with splendour and pomp, they would pluck out your feathers when they saw you a little bird.’

“Ah, how weak men are!” cried the king. “A brilliant exterior means after all nothing in the way of merit or virtue, and yet it is well nigh impossible to keep out of the circle of its influence. Ah, well!” he continued; “let us be philosophers, and despise what may not be ours: our lot will be none the harder.”

“I do not give up so quickly,” said the magician. “I hope to be able to find some means of solving the difficulty.”

Florine, poor Florine, in despair at not seeing the king, passed days and nights at the window, with these words ever on her tongue:–

“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,
 Haste to where I wait for you”.

The presence of the spy did not keep her silent, for her distress was such that she became quite reckless.

“What has become of you, King Charming?” she cried. “Have your enemies and mine made you feel the cruel effects of their rage? Are you a victim to their fury? Alas, alas! are you then dead? Shall I never see you any more? Or, tired of me and my sorrows, have you left me to my unhappy lot?”

Arid then the tears, the sobs, that would follow her pitiful laments! How the hours dragged in the absence of a lover so tender, so beloved! The princess, worn out, ill, thin, and sadly changed, could hardly bear her life any longer, feeling certain that the most terrible fate had overtaken the king.

The queen and Truitonne were joyful; they were more delighted with their vengeance than they had formerly been annoyed by the offence. And in reality, what offence had been given them? King Charming had not been willing to marry a little monster whom he had every reason in the world to detest.

But now Florine’s father grew old, fell ill, and died. The fortunes of the wicked queen and her daughter wore a different face. They were looked on as favourites who had abused their influence, and the people, in rebellion, hastened to the palace, demanding the Princess Florine, owning her as their sovereign. The queen, in a passion, would have liked to have treated the matter with a high hand, and going out on a balcony she threatened the rebels. Then the sedition spread the doors of her room were forced, the room was pillaged, and the queen was stoned to death. Truitonne fled to her god-mother, the fairy Soussio, for she ran no less a risk than her mother.

The nobles of the kingdom assembled at once, and mounted the tower where the princess was lying very ill, unconscious of the death of her father or the punishment of her enemy. When she heard all the noise she did not doubt but that they were coming to put her to death; yet she was not afraid, for life was hateful to her since she had lost Blue Bird. But her subjects, throwing them selves at her feet, made known to her the change in her fortunes, news which left her cold and indifferent. Taking her away to the palace, they crowned her.

The infinite care that was taken of her health, and her strong desire to go in search of Blue Bird, helped to cure her, and before long she felt well enough to nominate a council to take charge of the kingdom in her absence. Then choosing out jewels to the value of an immense sum, she set out one night quite alone, without letting anyone know where she was going.

The enchanter who was looking after King Charming’s affairs, not being powerful enough to undo all that Soussio had done, determined to go and find her, and to propose to her some arrangement by means of which the king would have his natural shape restored to him. Taking the frogs, he flew to the fairy, who at that moment was speaking with Truitonne.

There is not very much difference between an enchanter and a fairy. These two had known each other for five or six hundred years, and in that space of time they had had a hundred quarrels and made them up again. She received him very kindly.

“Well, and what does my comrade want?” she said. (They all call each other comrades.) “Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Yes, mother,” said the magician, “you can do everything I want. I have come on a matter concerning my best friend, a king whom you have ruined.”

“Ha, ha! I understand you, comrade,” cried Soussio. “He has incurred my wrath, and there is no pardon to be hoped for him unless he will marry my god-daughter. Here she is; beautiful and charming, as you see. Let him choose.”

The enchanter was almost struck dumb at her intense ugliness; yet he could not make up his mind to go away without making some arrangement with the fairy, for the king had run a thousand risks since he had been in the cage. The nail to which it was hung had got broken, the cage had fallen, and his feathered majesty had suffered much in consequence. Ninet, the cat, was in the room when the accident happened, and scratched his eye with its paw, which all but blinded him. Another time they had forgotten to give him anything to drink, and he was on the way to have the pip when they saved him from it by giving him a few drops of water. A mischievous little monkey, having got loose, caught hold of his feathers through the bars of the cage, and spared him not a whit more than if he had been a jay or a blackbird. The worst of all was that he was on the point of losing his kingdom, and every day the heirs foraged out some fresh stories to prove he was dead.

At last the enchanter made an arrangement with Soussio that she would take Truitonne to the palace of King Charming, that she should stay there several months, during which he would make up his mind to marry her; that, in return, Soussio would restore him his own shape, he to be ready to assume the bird’s again if he refused to marry.

The fairy gave Truitonne dresses all of gold and silver. Then she mounted her behind herself on a dragon, and they repaired to the land of Charming, who had just arrived with his faithful friend, the enchanter. With three waves of the wand he was again as he had used to be-handsome, amiable, witty, and splendidly attired. But the cutting short of his punishment was dear bought, for the mere thought of marrying Truitonne made him shudder. The enchanter gave him all the best reasons he could think of, but they made but slight impression on the king’s mind; and he was less taken up with the government of his kingdom than with the means of prolonging the time which Soussio had given him before marrying Truitonne.

Meanwhile Queen Florine, disguised in a peasant’s dress, her hair all in disorder and hanging over her face, a straw hat on her head, and a canvas bag over her shoulder, set out on her journey, sometimes walking, sometimes riding, sometimes by sea, sometimes by land. She made as much speed as possible, but, not knowing where to turn her steps, she was always in fear lest while she went in one direction her dear king should be in the other.

One day she stopped at the side of a stream, where the silver water rushed over little pebbles, and, wishing to bathe her feet, she sat down on the grass, and tying up her fair hair with a ribbon, put her feet in the water, like Diana, bathing on her return from the chase. There passed by a little old woman, quite bent, and leaning on a big stick. Stopping, she said to Florine:

“What are you doing there, my pretty maid, so all by yourself?”

“My good mother,” said the queen, “I do not want for company, for all my sorrows, anxieties, and disappointments abide with me.” At these words her eyes filled with tears.

“What! so young, and weeping!” said the good woman. “Ah! my daughter, do not distress your self. Tell me frankly what is the matter, and I hope to be able to comfort you.”

The queen consented, and told her troubles, the fairy Soussio’s part in the business, and, finally, how she was now in search of Blue Bird.

The little old woman drew herself up, shook herself out; her appearance changed all at once, and she became beautiful, young, superbly dressed, and looking at the queen with a gracious smile, she said: “Incomparable Florine, the king you are seeking is no longer a bird. My sister Soussio has restored to him his former shape, and he is now in his own kingdom. Do not despair. You will reach him, and will gain your end. Here are four eggs: you can break them when you are in urgent need of help, and will find in them what will serve you well.” And saying these words, she vanished.

Florine felt much consoled by what she had just heard, and putting the eggs in her bag, turned her steps towards the kingdom of King Charming. After walking eight days and eight nights without stopping, she reached the base of a mountain of a prodigious height, all made of ivory, and so steep that you could not set foot on it without falling. Over and over again she tried, but in vain. She slipped, she tired herself out, and in despair at so insurmountable an obstacle, she lay down at the foot of the mountain, with no other desire but to die, when she remembered the eggs which the fairy had given her.

Taking one of them, she said:

“Let me see if she was not laughing at me, in promising me the help of which I stand in need.”

As soon as she had cracked it, she found inside little golden grappling irons, which she attached to her feet and hands. As soon as she had them on she climbed the ivory mountain without any difficulty for the irons stuck into the ground and kept her from slipping.

When she was quite at the top, a new difficulty met her — how to get down again — for the whole valley was one sheet of mirror. All round were ranged more than sixty thousand women looking at themselves with the utmost delight, for this mirror was more than two leagues wide and six high; and there everyone saw herself as she wished to be. The red-haired maiden saw herself with fair ringlets, and brown hair looked black. The old dame saw herself young again, and the young never grew aged there. In short, all one’s defects were so well hidden that people came from the four quarters of the globe.

It was enough to make one die of laughing to see the grimaces and the affectations of the greater number of those vain creatures. And men were no less attracted by the flattery, for the mirror pleased them too. This one looking at himself would think what beautiful hair he had; others would seem to themselves to have grown in height, and to have a much finer figure than before, a more soldierly bearing, or a handsomer face. The women whom they laughed at, laughed just as much at them. And this mountain was called by all sorts of different names. No one had ever reached the top, and when Florine was seen up there the ladies broke out into loud cries of despair.

“Where is this unlucky girl going?” they said. “Doubtless she is mad enough to walk on our mirror, and at the first step she will break it all.”

And they set up such a hullabaloo! The queen did not know what to do, for she saw great danger in descending that way. So she broke another egg, out of which came two pigeons and a chariot, which became on the spot big enough for her to get into comfortably. Then the pigeons descended lightly with the queen, without the slightest accident.

“My little friends,” she said to them. “If you would but take me to the place where King Charming holds his court, it would be a service which would never be forgotten.”

The pigeons were willing and docile, and they stopped neither night nor day till they had reached the gate of the town. Florine got down and gave each of them a sweet kiss, a greater reward than a crown would have been.

Oh! how her heart beat fast as she entered. In order that she might not be recognised she besmeared her face, and then asked the passers-by where she could see the king. Some of them began to laugh. “See the king!” they said, “little dirty face? Go away, go away and wash yourself. Your eyes are not good enough to look upon such a monarch.”

The queen answered nothing but passed on gently, and asked those whom she next met where she should stand to see the king.

“He will be coming to the temple to-morrow with Princess Truitonne,” they said; “for at last he has consented to marry her.”

Heavens! what news was this! Truitonne, the wicked Truitonne, about to marry the king! Florine thought she would die. She had no strength left to speak or move, and she sat down under a doorway on a heap of stones, her face well hidden by her hair and her straw hat. “Ah! how unhappy I am,” she said, “to come here to render the triumph of my rival greater, and to be a witness to her joy. It was because of her then that Blue Bird stopped coming to see me. It was for this little monster that he has been so cruelly faithless to me. While I was plunged in grief and anxiety lest he should be dead, the traitor had changed; and thinking no more of me than if he had never seen me, left me to mourn his too long absence without concerning himself about mine.”

When one is very unhappy one’s appetite is not usually very good, so the queen sought for a lodging, and went to bed supperless. Rising with the day, she hastened to the temple, and entered only after receiving endless rebuffs from the guards and the soldiers. Then she saw the king’s throne and Truitonne’s, who was already looked on as queen. What sorrow for a heart so tender and sensitive as Florine’s! She went up to her rival’s throne, and stood there leaning against a marble pillar.

The king was the first to arrive – handsomer, comelier than ever. Truitonne followed, richly clad, but so ugly that she frightened all those who set eyes on her. Looking at the queen, she frowned and said: “Are you that dares to approach my fair presence, and to stand near my golden throne?”

“My name is Mie Souillon,” she answered; “I come from a long way off to sell you rarities.” Then she rummaged in her sack and drew out the emerald bracelets that King Charming had given her.

“Ho, ho!” said Truitonne; “these are pretty bits of glass. Will you have a five sou piece for them?”

“Show them to those who know their value, madam,” said the queen, “and then we can make our bargain.”

Truitonne, who loved the king more tenderly than such a monster seemed capable of, was delighted to find opportunities of speaking to him, and approaching his throne, showed him the bracelets, and asked him what he thought of them. At sight of them he called to mind those he had given to Florine, and grew pale, sighed, and remained long without answering a word. At length, fearing lest they should notice evidences of the conflicting thoughts within him, he made an effort, and answered: “These bracelets are worth, I should think, as much as my kingdom. I thought there was but one such pair in the world, yet here are others just like.”

Truitonne came back and sat on her throne, where she looked not quite so pretty as an oyster in a shell. Then she asked the queen how much, without overcharging, she would take for these bracelets.

“You would never be able to pay me, madam,” she said. “I’ll rather propose another bargain to you. If you will let me sleep one night in the echo room of the king’s palace I shall give you the emeralds.”

“Very well, little dirty face,” said Truitonne, laughing like a madwoman and showing her teeth, which were longer than a wild boar’s tusks.

The king never asked where the bracelets came from, not so much from in difference to her who presented them, although she was hardly of a condition to rouse his curiosity, as from an antipathy he could not master that he felt towards Truitonne.

Now you must know that while he was Blue Bird he had told the princess that under his apartment there was a little room called the echo room, so ingeniously made that all that was said quite low in it was heard by the king when he lay in his own room; and as Florine wished to reproach him with his unfaithfulness, she could think of no better means.

By order of Truitonne she was brought into this cabinet, and there she began her cries and laments.

“The misfortune which I only feared is now but too certain. Cruel Blue Bird!” she said, “you have forgotten me. You love my wicked rival. The bracelets I received from your faithless hand could not recall me to you, so far have I slipped out of your remembrance!” Then sobs interrupted her words, and when she had regained strength enough to speak her cries broke out anew, and went on till daybreak. The valets-de-chambre had heard her all night long groaning and sighing, and told Truitonne, who asked her what noise she had been making. The queen said she was such a sound sleeper that usually she dreamt, and that very often in dreaming she spoke quite loud. As for the king, by a strange fatality he had not heard her, for since ever he had loved Florine he could not sleep, and when he went to bed to rest they gave him a sleep tonic.

The queen passed a part of the day in a wondering anxiety. “If he heard me,” she said, “could he be more cruelly indifferent? If he did not, what shall I do to make him hear me?” She had no more rare curiosities. She had, it is true, beautiful jewels, but it was necessary to find something which would take Truitonne’s fancy.

She, therefore, had recourse to her eggs. As soon as she broke one out came a little coach of polished steel inlaid with gold. Six green mice were harnessed to it. The driver was a rose-coloured rat, and the postillions, also of the rat family, were of a flax grey. In this coach were four marionettes, livelier and funnier than any of those you would see at St. Germain’s or St. Lawrence’s Fair. The things they did were extraordinary, especially two little gypsies who could dance a saraband or a jig as well as Leance.

The queen was delighted with this fresh wonder of magic, but she kept it to herself till evening, at which time Truitonne used to go for a walk. Then, stationing herself in one of the avenues, she set the mice off at a gallop with the coach, the rats, and the marionettes. Truitonne was so astonished at this curiosity that she cried out two or three times: “Mie Souillon, Mie Souillon, will you take five halfpence for your coach and mice?”

“Ask the learned men and the scholars of this kingdom,” said Florine, “the worth of such a curiosity, and I will take whatever the most learned may say is its value.”

Truitonne, who was always very imperious, said: “Tell me the price of it, and take your dirty face out of my sight “.

“To sleep again in the echo chamber,” she answered. “That is all I ask.”

“‘Well, be off with you, poor wretch,” said Truitonne. “You won’t be refused that.” And turning towards her ladies-in-waiting, she added: “What a fool she is to get so little profit out of her curiosities!”

Night came. Florine said the tenderest things she could think of, but all in vain as before, for the king never failed to take his sleeping tonic. The valets said to each other: “Not a doubt but this peasant girl is mad. What does she talk for all night long?”

“All the same,” some of them remarked. “Neither sense nor tenderness is lacking in what she says.”

She waited with impatience for the day to see what effect her words had had.

“What! is this wretch grown deaf to my voice? Does he no longer hear his beloved Florine? Ah, how weak I am to care for him still, and I deserve the contempt he pours on me!” But it was in vain she reasoned thus; she could not kill the affection she felt for him.

The only thing she could now hope for help from was the one egg left in her bag. She broke it, and out came a pie made of six birds, all larded, cooked, and beautifully dressed. The pie sang in a wonderful fashion, told fortunes, and knew more of medicine than even Aesculapius.

The queen, delighted with the wonderful thing, hastened with her talking pie into Truitonne’s ante-chamber. While she was waiting for her to come that way, one of the king’s valets come up to her, and said: “Mie Souillon, do you know that if the king did not take a sleeping tonic to make him sleep, you would certainly drive him wild, for you chatter during the night in such an astonishing fashion?”

Florine no longer wondered that he had not heard her, and rummaging in her bag, she said: “I have so little fear of disturbing the king’s rest that if you give him no sleeping tonic tonight, and let me sleep in that same room, all these pearls and all these diamonds will be yours.” The valet agreed, and gave her his word on it.

A few minutes after, Truitonne came along. Seeing the queen with her pie, pretending as if she were going to eat it, she said: “What are you doing there, Mie Souillon?”

“Madam,” replied Florine, “I am eating astrologers, musicians, and doctors.”

At that moment all the birds began to sing more sweetly than sirens, and cried: “Give us a silver penny, and we will tell you your fortune.”

A duck appeared to be the leader, and he called out louder than the others: “Quack, quack, quack! I am a physician; I can cure every ill and every kind of madness except love.”

Truitonne, more surprised by such wonders than ever she had been in her life, swore: “Bless my heart, but here is a fine pie! I must have it. Come, now, Mie Souillon, what shall I give you for it?”

“The usual price,” she answered. “Let me sleep in the echo room, nothing more.”

“See,” said Truitonne, generously (for she was in a very good temper at having got such a pie), “I’ll also give you gold coins.”

And Florine, better pleased than she had yet been, thinking that the king might hear her this time, withdrew, giving thanks to Truitonne.

As soon as night came on she betook herself to the echo room, hoping eagerly that the valet had kept his word, and that instead of giving the king a sleeping tonic, he had given him something to keep him awake. When she knew that everybody else was asleep she began her usual laments.

“To what dangers am I exposed in my search for you!” she said. “And all the while you flee me and wish to marry Truitonne. What have I done, cruel man, that you should for get your oaths? Do you remember your metamorphosis, my kindness to you, and our loving conversations?” Then she repeated nearly the whole of them, with a memory which amply proved that nothing was dearer to her than this remembrance.

The king was not sleeping, and he heard Florine’s voice so distinctly, and all she said, that he could not understand where the words came from. But his heart, overpowered with sudden tenderness, called back in such a life-like way the memory of his incomparable princess that he felt his separation from her as keenly as he did the moment when the knives had wounded him in the cypress tree.

Then on his part he began to speak after the fashion of the queen.

“Ah! princess,” he said. “You have been too cruel to the lover who adored you. Is it possible you sacrificed me to the enemies of us both?”

Florine heard what he said, and did not fail to reply, and to let him know that if he would talk over the matter with Mie Souillon, all the mysteries he had not been able to understand till now would be cleared up.

At these words the king, without waiting a moment, called for one of his valets, and asked him if he could not find Mie Souillon and bring her to the palace. The valet said nothing was easier, for she was sleeping in the echo room.

The king did not know what to think. How could he believe that so great a queen as Florine should be disguised as Souillon? And how could he believe that Mie Souillon had the queen’s voice, and knew her most intimate secrets, unless she were the queen herself?

In this uncertainty he rose, dressed quickly, and went by a secret stair case to the echo room. The queen had taken away the key, but the king had one that opened all the doors of the palace. He found her wrapped in a light robe of white taffeta, which she wore under her old clothes. Her beautiful hair hung over her shoulders as she lay on a couch, a lamp some little way off giving only a sombre light. The king entered suddenly, and his love getting the better of his anger, as soon as he recognised her he threw himself at her feet, and bathed her hands in his tears. He thought he must die of joy, of grief, of the thousand different feelings that crowded all at once into his soul.

The queen was no less disturbed. She felt a weight on her heart, and could hardly breathe, but lay looking fixedly at the king without saying a word. When she recovered strength enough to speak, she had none to use for reproaches, and the pleasure of seeing him once more made her forget for some time her grievances against him. At last they came to an understanding: they justified themselves: their tenderness awoke again, and their only trouble was the fairy Soussio.

But just at that moment the enchanter, who loved the king, arrived with a celebrated fairy, the very one who had given the four eggs to Florine. After the first greeting, the enchanter and the fairy declared that they had joined their power together in favour of the king and the queen. Soussio was, therefore, powerless against them, and the wedding need not be delayed.

It is easy to picture the joy of these two young lovers. As soon as daylight came it was known throughout the palace, and everyone was delighted to see Florine. The news reached Truitonne who ran to the king. What a surprise for her to find her fair rival with him! When she was just opening her mouth to call Florine names, the enchanter and the fairy appeared and changed her into a sow, so that at least a part of her name and her surly temper remained to her. She ran away grunting, grunting, down to the backyard, where the loud laughter she was met with put a climax to her misery.

King Charming and Queen Florine, free from this hateful woman, gave themselves up to planning their wedding feast, and everything was as elegant as it was superb. And it is not difficult to imagine how happy they were after having known so many hardships.

Classic Fairy Tale by Madame d’Aulnoy

Beauty

1. Do you think Truitonne really was ugly? Why or why not?

Love

1. Do you think Florine and King Charming loved one another? What things in the story show their love?

2. What do you think is the strongest thing that shows when we love someone?

Find more books about love for children!

Or read the complete Storyberries collection of books about love here:

The post The Blue Bird first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand  if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there was a king who had been at war for a long time with his neighbours. After many battles had been fought his capital was besieged by the enemy. Fearing for the safety of the queen, the king implored her to take refuge in a stronghold to which he himself had never been but once. The queen besought him with tears to let her remain at his side, and share his fate, and lamented loudly when the king placed her in the carriage which was to take her away under escort.

The king promised to slip away whenever possible and pay her a visit, seeking thus to comfort her, although he knew that there was small chance of the hope being fulfilled. For the castle was a long way off, in the midst of a dense forest, and only those with a thorough knowledge of the roads could possibly reach it.

The queen was broken-hearted at having to leave her husband exposed to the perils of war, and though she made her journey by easy stages, lest the fatigue of so much travelling should make her ill, she was downcast and miserable when at length she reached the castle. She made excursions into the country round about, when sufficiently recovered, but found nothing to amuse or distract her. On all sides wide barren spaces met her eye, melancholy rather than pleasant to look upon.

‘How different from my old home!’ she exclaimed, as she gloomily surveyed the scene. ‘If I stay here long I shall die. To whom can I talk in this solitude? To whom can I unburden my grief? What have I done that the king should exile me? He must wish me, I suppose, to feel the bitterness of separation to the utmost, since he banishes me to this hateful castle.’

She grieved long and deeply, and though the king wrote every day to her with good news of the way the siege was going, she became more and more unhappy. At last she determined that she would go back to him, but knowing that her attendants had been forbidden to let her return, except under special orders from the king, she kept her intention to herself. On the pretext of wishing sometimes to join the hunt, she ordered a small chariot, capable of accommodating one person only, to be built for her. This she drove herself, and used to keep up with the hounds so closely that she would leave the rest of the hunt behind. The chariot being in her sole control, this gave her the opportunity to escape whenever she liked, and the only obstacle was her lack of familiarity with the roads through the forest. She trusted, however, to the favour of Providence to bring her safely through it.

She now gave orders for a great hunt to be held, and intimated her wish that every one should attend. She herself was to be present in her chariot, and she proposed that every follower of the chase should choose a different line, and so close every avenue of escape to the quarry. The arrangements were carried out according to the queen’s plan. Confident that she would soon see her husband again, she donned her most becoming attire. Her hat was trimmed with feathers of different colours, the front of her dress with a number of precious stones. Thus adorned, she looked in her beauty (which was of no ordinary stamp) like a second Diana.

When the excitement of the chase was at its height she gave rein to her horses, urging them on with voice and whip, until their pace quickened to a gallop. But then, getting their bits between their teeth, the team sped onwards so fast that presently the chariot seemed to be borne upon the wind, and to be travelling faster than the eye could follow. Too late the poor queen repented of her rashness. ‘What possessed me,’ she cried, ‘to think that I could manage such wild and fiery steeds? Alack! What will become of me! What would the king do if he knew of my great peril? He only sent me away because he loves me dearly, and wished me to be in greater safety—and this is the way I repay his tender care!’

Her piteous cries rang out upon the air, but though she called on Heaven and invoked the fairies to her aid, it seemed that all the unseen powers had forsaken her.

Over went the chariot. She lacked the strength to jump clear quickly enough, and her foot was caught between the wheel and the axle-tree. It was only by a miracle that she was not killed, and she lay stretched on the ground at the foot of a tree, with her heart scarcely beating and her face covered with blood, unable to speak.

For a long time she lay thus. At last she opened her eyes and saw, standing beside her, a woman of gigantic stature. The latter wore nought but a lion’s skin; her arms and legs were bare, and her hair was tied up with a dried snake’s skin, the head of which dangled over her shoulder. In her hand she carried, for walking-stick, a stone club, and a quiver full of arrows hung at her side.

This extraordinary apparition convinced the queen that she was dead, and indeed it seemed impossible that she could have survived so terrible a disaster. ‘No wonder death needs resolution,’ she murmured, ‘since sights so terrible await one in the other world.’

The giantess overheard these words, and laughed to find the queen thought herself dead.

‘Courage,’ she said; ‘you are still in the land of the living, though your lot is not improved. I am the Lion-Witch. My dwelling is near by; you must come and live with me.’

‘If you will have the kindness, good Lion-Witch, to take me back to my castle, the king, who loves me dearly, will not refuse you any ransom you demand, though it were the half of his kingdom.’

‘I will not do that,’ replied the giantess, ‘for I have wealth enough already. Moreover, I am tired of living alone, and as you have your wits about you it is possible you may be able to amuse me.’

With these words she assumed the shape of a lioness, and taking the queen on her back, bore her off into the depths of a cavern. There she anointed the queen’s wounds with an essence which quickly healed them.

But imagine the wonder and despair of the queen to find herself in this dismal lair! The approach to it was by ten thousand steps, which led downward to the centre of the earth, and the only light was that which came from a number of lofty lamps, reflected in a lake of quicksilver. This lake teemed with monsters, each of which was hideous enough to have terrified one far less timid than the queen. Ravens, screech-owls, and many another bird of evil omen filled the air with harsh cries. Far off could be espied a mountain, from the slopes of which there flowed the tears of all hapless lovers. Its sluggish stream was fed by every ill-starred love. The trees had neither leaves nor fruit, and the ground was cumbered with briars, nettles, and rank weeds. The food, too, was such as might be expected in such a horrid clime. A few dried roots, horse-chestnuts, and thorn-apples—this was all the fare with which the Lion-Witch appeased the hunger of those who fell into her clutches.

When the queen was well enough to be set to work, the Witch told her she might build herself a hut, since she was fated to remain in her company for the rest of her life. On hearing this the queen burst into tears. ‘Alas!’ she cried, ‘what have I done that you should keep me here? If my death, which I feel to be nigh, will cause you any pleasure, then I implore you to kill me: I dare not hope for any other kindness from you. But do not condemn me to the sadness of a life-long separation from my husband.’

But the Lion-Witch merely laughed at her, bidding her dry her tears, if she would be wise, and do her part to please her. Otherwise, she declared, her lot would be the most miserable in the world.

‘And what must I do to soften your heart?’ replied the queen.

‘I have a liking for fly-pasties,’ said the Lion-Witch. ‘And you must contrive to catch flies enough to make me a large and tasty one.’

‘But there are no flies here,’ rejoined the queen. ‘And even if there were there is not enough light to catch them by. Moreover, supposing I caught some, I have never in my life made pastry. You are therefore giving me orders which I cannot possibly carry out.’

‘No matter,’ said the pitiless Lion-Witch. ‘What I want I will have!’

The queen made no reply, but reflected that, no matter how cruel the Witch might be, she had only one life to lose, and in her present plight what terror could death hold for her? She did not attempt to look for flies, therefore, but sat down beneath a yew tree, and gave way to tears and lamentations. ‘Alas, dear husband,’ she cried. ‘How grieved you will be when you go to fetch me from the castle, and find me gone! You will suppose me to be dead or faithless; how I hope that you will mourn the loss of my life, not the loss of my love! Perhaps the remains of my chariot will be found in the wood, with all the ornaments I had put on to please you: at sight of these you will not doubt any more that I am dead. But then, how do I know that you will not bestow on some one else the heartfelt love which once belonged to me? At all events I shall be spared the sorrow of that knowledge, since I am never to return to the world.’

These thoughts would have filled her mind for a long time, but she was interrupted by the dismal croaking of a raven overhead. Lifting her eyes, she saw in the dim light a large raven on the point of swallowing a frog which it held in its beak. ‘Though I have no hope of help for myself,’ she said, ‘I will not let this unfortunate frog die, if I can save it; though our lots are so different, its sufferings are quite as great as mine.’ She picked up the first stick which came to hand, and made the raven let go its prey. The frog fell to the ground and lay for a time half stunned; but as soon as it could think, in its froggish way, it began to speak.

‘Beautiful queen,’ it said, ‘you are the first friendly soul that I have seen since my curiosity brought me here.’

‘By what magic are you endowed with speech, little Frog?’ replied the queen. ‘And what people are they whom you see here? I have seen none at all as yet.’

‘All the monsters with which the lake is teeming,’ replied the little Frog, ‘were once upon a time in the world. Some sat on thrones, some held high positions at Court; there are even some royal ladies here who were the cause of strife and bloodshed. It is these latter whom you see in the shape of leeches, and they are condemned to remain here for a certain time. But of those who come here none ever returns to the world better or wiser.’

‘I can quite understand,’ said the queen, ‘that wicked people are not improved by merely being thrown together. But how is it that you are here, my friendly little Frog?’

‘I came here out of curiosity,’ she replied. ‘I am part fairy, and though, in certain directions, my powers are limited, in others they are far-reaching. The Lion-Witch would kill me if she knew that I was in her domain.’

‘Whatever your fairy powers,’ said the queen, ‘I cannot understand how you could have fallen into the raven’s clutches and come so near to being devoured.’

‘That is easily explained,’ said the Frog. ‘I have nought to fear when my little cap of roses is on my head, for that is the source of my power. Unluckily I had left it in the marsh when that ugly raven pounced upon me, and but for you, Madam, I should not now be here. Since you have saved my life, you have only to command me and I will do everything in my power to lessen the misfortunes of your lot.’

‘Alas, dear Frog,’ said the queen. ‘The wicked fairy who holds me captive desires that I should make her a fly-pasty. But there are no flies here, and if there were I could not see to catch them in the dim light. I am like, therefore, to get a beating which will kill me.’

‘Leave that to me,’ said the Frog, ‘I will quickly get you some.’

Thereupon the Frog smeared sugar all over herself, and the same was done by more than six thousand of her froggy friends. They then made for a place where the fairy had a large store of flies, which she used to torment some of her luckless victims. No sooner did the flies smell the sugar than they flew to it, and found themselves sticking to the frogs. Away, then, went the latter at a gallop, to bring their friendly aid to the queen. Never was there such a catching of flies before, nor a better pasty than the one the queen made for the fairy. The surprise of the Witch was great when the queen handed it to her, for she was baffled to think how the flies could have been so cleverly caught.

The queen suffered so much from want of protection against the poisonous air that she cut down some cypress branches and began to build herself a hut. The Frog kindly offered her services. She summoned round her all those who had helped in the fly hunt, and they assisted the queen to build as pretty a little place to live in as you could find anywhere in the world.

But no sooner had she lain down to rest than the monsters of the lake, envious of her repose, gathered round the hut. They set up the most hideous noise that had ever been heard, and drove her so nearly mad that she got up and fled in fear and trembling from the house. This was just what the monsters were after, and a dragon, who had once upon a time ruled tyrannously over one of the greatest countries of the world, immediately took possession of it.

The poor queen tried to protest against this ill-treatment. But no one would listen to her: the monsters laughed and jeered at her, and the Lion-Witch said that if she came and dinned lamentations into her ears again she would give her a sound thrashing.

The queen was therefore obliged to hold her tongue. She sought out the Frog, who was the most sympathetic creature in the world, and they wept together; for the moment she put on her cap of roses the Frog became able to laugh or weep like anybody else.

‘I am so fond of you,’ said the Frog to the queen, ‘that I will build your house again, though every monster in the lake should be filled with envy.’

Forthwith she cut some wood, and a little country mansion for the queen sprang up so quickly that she was able to sleep in it that very night. Nothing that could make for the queen’s comfort was forgotten by the Frog, and there was even a bed of wild thyme.

When the wicked fairy learnt that the queen was not sleeping on the ground, she sent for her and asked:

‘What power is it, human or divine, that protects you? This land drinks only a rain of burning sulphur, and has never produced so much as a sage-leaf: yet they tell me fragrant herbs spring up beneath your feet.’

‘I cannot explain it, madam,’ said the queen, ‘unless it is due to the child I am expecting. Perhaps for her a less unhappy fate than mine is in store.’

‘I have a craving just now,’ said the Witch, ‘for a posy of rare flowers. See if this happiness which you expect will enable you to get them. If you do not succeed, such a thrashing as I know well how to give is surely in store for you.’

The queen began to weep, for threats like these distressed her, and she despaired as she thought of the impossibility of finding flowers. But when she returned to her little house, the friendly Frog met her.

‘How unhappy you look!’ she said.

‘Alas, dear friend,’ said the queen, ‘who would not be so? The Witch has demanded a posy of the most beautiful flowers. Where am I to find them? You see what sort of flowers grow here! Yet my life is forfeit if I do not procure them.’

‘Dear queen,’ said the Frog tenderly, ‘we must do our best to extricate you from this dilemma. Hereabouts there lives a bat of my acquaintance—a kindly soul. She moves about more quickly than I do, so I will give her my cap of roses, and with the aid of this she will be able to find you flowers.’

The queen curtseyed low, it being quite impossible to embrace the Frog, and the latter went off at once to speak to the bat. In a few hours the bat came back with some exquisite flowers tucked under her wings. Off went the queen with them to the Witch, who was more astonished than ever, being quite unable to understand in what marvellous way the queen had been assisted.

The queen never ceased to plot some means of escape, and told the Frog of her longings. ‘Madam,’ said the latter, ‘allow me first to take counsel with my little cap, and we will make plans according to what it advises.’ Having placed her cap upon some straw, she burnt in front of it a few juniper twigs, some capers, and a couple of green peas. She then croaked five times. This completed the rites, and having donned her cap again, she began to speak like an oracle.

‘Fate, the all-powerful, decrees that you must not leave this place. You will have a little princess more beautiful than Venus herself. Let nothing fret you; time alone can heal.’

The queen bowed her head and shed tears, but she determined to have faith in the friend she had found. ‘Whatever happens,’ she said, ‘do not leave me here alone, and befriend me when my little one is born.’ The Frog promised to remain with her, and did her best to comfort her.

It is now time to return to the king. So long as the enemy kept him confined within his capital he could not regularly send messengers to the queen. But at length, after many sorties, he forced the enemy to raise the siege. This success gave him pleasure not so much on his own account, as for the sake of the queen, who could now be brought home in safety. He knew nothing of the disaster which had befallen her, for none of his retinue had dared to tell him of it. They had found in the forest the remains of the chariot, the runaway horses, and the apparel in which she had driven forth to find her husband, and being convinced that she was killed or devoured by wild beasts, their one idea was to make the king believe that she had died suddenly.

It seemed as if the king could not survive this mournful news. He tore his hair, wept bitterly, and lamented his loss with all manner of sorrowful cries and sobs and sighs. For several days he would see nobody, and hid himself from view. Later, he returned to his capital and entered upon a long period of mourning, to the sincerity of which his heartfelt sorrow bore even plainer testimony than his sombre garb of woe. His royal neighbours all sent ambassadors with messages of condolence, and when the ceremonies proper to these occasions were at length over, he proclaimed a period of peace. He released his subjects from military service, and devoted himself to giving them every assistance in the development of commerce.

Of all this the queen knew nothing. A little princess had been born to her in the meantime, and her beauty did not belie the Frog’s prediction. They gave her the name of Moufette, but the queen had great difficulty in persuading the Witch to let her bring up the child, for her ferocity was such that she would have liked to eat it.

At the age of six months Moufette was a marvel of beauty, and often, as she gazed upon her with mingled tenderness and pity, the queen would say:

‘Could your father but see you, my poor child, how delighted he would be, and how dear you would be to him! But perhaps even now he has begun to forget me: doubtless he believes that death has robbed him of us, and it may be that another now fills the place I had in his affections.’

Many were the tears she shed over these sad thoughts, and the Frog, whose love for her was sincere, was moved one day by the sight of her grief to say to her:

‘If you like, Madam, I will go and seek your royal husband. It is a long journey, and I am but a tardy traveller, but sooner or later I have no doubt I shall get there.’

No suggestion could have been more warmly approved, the queen clasping her hands, and bidding little Moufette do the same, in token of the gratitude she felt towards the good Frog for offering to make the expedition. Nor would the king, she declared, be less grateful. ‘Of what advantage, however,’ she went on, ‘will it be to him to learn that I am in this dire abode, since it will be impossible for him to rescue me from it?’

‘That we must leave to Providence, Madam,’ said the Frog. ‘We can but make those efforts of which we are capable.’

They took farewell of each other, and the queen sent a message to the king. This was written with her blood on a piece of rag, for she had neither ink nor paper. The good Frog was bringing him news of herself, she wrote, and she implored him to give heed to all that she might tell him, and to believe everything she had to say.

It took the Frog a year and four days to climb the ten thousand steps which led from the gloomy realm in which she had left the queen, up into the world. Another year was spent in preparing her equipage, for she was too proud to consent to appear at Court like a poor and humble frog from the marshes. A little sedan-chair was made for her, large enough to hold a couple of eggs comfortably, and this was covered outside with tortoise-shell and lined with lizard-skin. From the little green frogs that hop about the meadows she selected fifty to act as maids of honour, and each of these was mounted on a snail. They had dainty saddles, and rode in dashing style with the leg thrown over the saddle-bow. A numerous bodyguard of rats, dressed like pages, ran before the snails—in short, nothing so captivating had ever been seen before. To crown all, the cap of roses, which never faded but was always in full bloom, most admirably became her. Being something of a coquette, too, she could not refrain from a touch of rouge and a patch or two; indeed, some said she was painted like a great many other ladies of the land, but it has been proved by inquiry that this report had its origin with her enemies.

The journey lasted seven years, and during all that time the poor queen endured unutterable pain and suffering. Had it not been for the solace of the beautiful Moufette she must have died a hundred times. Every word that the dear little creature uttered filled her with delight; indeed, with the exception of the Lion-Witch, there was nobody who was not charmed by her.

There came at length a day, after the queen had lived for six years in this dismal region, when the Witch told her that she could go hunting with her, on condition that she yielded up everything which she killed. The queen’s joy when she once more saw the sun may be imagined; though at first she thought she would be blinded, so unaccustomed to its light had she become. So quick and lively was Moufette, even at five or six years of age, that she never failed in her aim, and mother and daughter together were thus able to appease somewhat the fierce instincts of the Witch.

Meanwhile the Frog was travelling over hills and valleys. Day or night, she never stopped, and at last she came nigh to the capital, where the king was now in residence. To her astonishment signs of festivity met her eye at every turn; on all sides there was merriment, song and dancing, and the nearer she came to the city the more festive seemed the mood of the people. All flocked with amazement to see her rustic retinue, and by the time she reached the city the crowd had become so large that it was with difficulty she made her way to the palace.

At the palace all was splendour, for the king, who had been deprived of his wife’s society for nine years, had at last yielded to the petitions of his subjects, and was about to wed a princess who possessed many amiable qualities, though she lacked, admittedly, the beauty of his wife.

The good Frog descended from her sedan-chair, and with her attendants in her train entered the royal presence. To request an audience was unnecessary, for the king and his intended bride and all the princes were much too curious to learn why she had come to think of interrupting her.

‘Sire,’ said the Frog, ‘I am in doubt whether the news I bring will cause you joy or sorrow. I can only conclude, from the marriage which you are proposing to celebrate, that you are no longer faithful to your queen.’

Tears fell from the king’s eyes. ‘Her memory is as dear to me as ever,’ he declared; ‘but you must know, good Frog, that monarchs cannot always follow their own wishes. For nine years now my subjects have been urging me to take a wife, and indeed it is due to them that there should be an heir to the throne. Hence my choice of this young princess, whose charms are apparent.’

‘I warn you not to marry her,’ rejoined the Frog. ‘The queen is not dead, and I am the bearer of a letter from her, writ in her own blood. There has been born to you a little daughter, Moufette, who is more beautiful than the very heavens.’

The king took the rag on which the short message from the queen was written. He kissed it and moistened it with his tears; and declared, holding it up for all to see, that he recognised the handwriting of his wife. Then he plied the Frog with endless questions, to all of which she replied with lively intelligence.

The princess who was to have been queen, and the envoys who were attending the marriage ceremony, were somewhat out of countenance. ‘Sire,’ said one of the most distinguished guests, turning to the king, ‘can you contemplate the breaking of your solemn pledge upon the word of a toad like that? This scum of the marshes has the audacity to come and lie to the entire Court, just for the gratification of being listened to!’

‘I would have you know, your Excellency,’ replied the Frog, ‘that I am no scum of the marshes. Since you force me to display my powers—hither, fairies all!’

At these words the frogs, the rats, the snails, and the lizards all suddenly ranged themselves behind the Frog. But in place of their familiar natural forms, they appeared now as tall, majestic figures, handsome of mien, and with eyes that outshone the stars. Each wore a crown of jewels on his head, while over his shoulders hung a royal mantle of velvet, lined with ermine, the train of which was borne by dwarfs. Simultaneously the sound of trumpets, drums, and hautboys filled the air with martial melody, and all the fairies began to dance a ballet, with step so light that the least spring lifted them to the vaulted ceiling of the chamber.

The astonishment of the king and his future bride was in no way diminished when the fairy dancers suddenly changed before their eyes into flowers—jasmine, jonquils, violets, roses, and carnations—which carried on the dance just as though they were possessed of legs and feet. It was as though a flower-bed had come to life, every movement of which gave pleasure alike to eye and nostril. A moment later the flowers vanished, and in their place were fountains of leaping water that fell in a cascade and formed a lake beneath the castle walls. On the surface of the lake were little boats, painted and gilt, so pretty and dainty that the princess challenged the ambassadors to a voyage. None hesitated to do so, for they thought it was all a gay pastime, and a merry prelude to the marriage festivities. But no sooner had they embarked than boats, fountains, and lake vanished, and the frogs were frogs once more.

‘Sire,’ said the Frog, when the king asked what had become of the princess. ‘Your wife alone is your queen. Were my affection for her less than it is, I should not interfere; but she deserves so well, and your daughter Moufette is so charming, that you ought not to lose one moment in setting out to their rescue.’

‘I do assure you, Madam Frog,’ replied the king, ‘that if I could believe my wife to be alive, I would shrink from nothing in the world for sight of her again.’

‘Surely,’ said the Frog, ‘after the marvels I have shown you, there ought not to be doubt in your mind of the truth of what I say. Leave your realm in the hands of those whom you can trust, and set forth without delay. Take this ring—it will provide you with the means of seeing the queen, and of speaking with the Lion-Witch, notwithstanding that she is the most formidable creature in the world.’

The king refused to let any one accompany him, and after bestowing handsome gifts upon the Frog, he set forth. ‘Do not lose heart,’ she said to him. ‘You will encounter terrible difficulties, but I am convinced that your desires will meet with success.’ He plucked up courage at these words, and started upon the quest of his dear wife, though he had only the ring to guide him.

Now Moufette’s beauty became more and more perfect as she grew older, and all the monsters of the lake of quicksilver were enamoured of her. Hideous and terrifying to behold, they came and lay at her feet. Although Moufette had seen them ever since she was born, her lovely eyes could never grow accustomed to them, and she would run away and hide in her mother’s arms. ‘Shall we remain here long?’ she would ask. ‘Are we never to escape from misery?’

The queen would answer hopefully, so as to keep up the spirits of the child, but in her heart hope had died. The absence of the Frog and the lack of any news from her, together with the long time that had passed since she had heard anything of the king, filled her with grief and despair.

By now it had become a regular thing for them to go hunting with the Lion-Witch. The latter liked good things, and enjoyed the game which they killed for her. The head or the feet of the quarry was all the share they got, but there was compensation in being allowed to look again upon the daylight. The Witch would take the shape of a lioness, and the queen and her daughter would seat themselves on her back. In this fashion they ranged the forests a-hunting.

One day, when the king was resting in a forest to which his ring had guided him, he saw them shoot by like an arrow from the bow. They did not perceive him, and when he tried to follow them he lost sight of them completely. The queen was still as beautiful as of old, despite all that she had suffered, and she seemed to her husband more attractive than ever, so that he longed to have her with him again. He felt certain that the young princess with her was his dear little Moufette, and he resolved to face death a thousand times rather than abandon his intention of rescuing her.

With the assistance of his ring he penetrated to the gloomy region in which the queen had been for so many years. His astonishment was great to find himself descending to the centre of the earth, but with every new thing that met his eyes his amazement grew greater.

The Lion-Witch, from whom nothing was hid, knew well the day and hour of his destined arrival. Much did she wish that the powers in league with her could have ordered things otherwise, but she resolved to pit her strength against his to the full.

She built a palace of crystal which floated in the midst of the lake of quicksilver, rising and falling on its waves. Therein she imprisoned the queen and her daughter, and assembling the monsters, who were all admirers of Moufette, she gave them this warning:

‘You will lose this beautiful princess if you do not help me to keep her from a gallant who has come to bear her away.’

The monsters vowed that they would do everything in their power, and forthwith they surrounded the palace of crystal. The less heavy stationed themselves upon the roofs and walls, others mounted guard at the doors, while the remainder filled the lake.

Following the dictates of his faithful ring, the king went first to the Witch’s cavern. She was waiting for him in the form of a lioness, and the moment he appeared she sprang upon him. But she was not prepared for his valiant swordsmanship, and as she put forth a paw to fell him to the ground, he cut it off at the elbow-joint. She yelped loudly and fell over, whereupon he went up to her and set his foot upon her throat, swearing that he would kill her. Notwithstanding her uncontrollable rage, and the fact that she had nothing to fear from wounds, she felt cowed by him.

‘What do you seek to do to me?’ she asked. ‘What do you want of me?’

‘I intend to punish you,’ replied the king with dignity, ‘for having carried away my wife. Deliver her up to me, or I will strangle you on the spot.’

‘Turn your eyes to the lake,’ she answered, ‘and see if it lies in my power to do so.’

The king followed the direction she indicated, and saw the queen and her daughter in the palace of crystal, where it floated like a boat without oars or rudder on the lake of quicksilver. He was like to die of mingled joy and sorrow. He shouted to them at the top of his voice, and they heard him. But how was he to reach them?

While he pondered a plan for the accomplishment of this, the Lion-Witch vanished. He ran round and round the lake, but no sooner did the palace draw near enough, at one point or another, to let him make a spring for it, than it suddenly receded with menacing speed. As often as his hopes were raised they were dashed to the ground.

Fearing that he would presently tire, the queen cried to him that he must not lose courage, for the Lion-Witch sought to wear him down, but that true love could brave all obstacles. She stretched out imploring hands, and so did Moufette. At sight of this the king felt his courage renewed within him. Lifting his voice, he declared that he would rather live the rest of his life in this dismal region than go away without them.

Patience he certainly needed, for no monarch in the world ever spent such a miserable time. There was only the ground, cumbered with briars and thorns, for bed, and for food he had only wild fruit more bitter than gall. In addition, he was under the perpetual necessity of defending himself from the monsters of the lake.

Three years went by in this fashion, and the king could not pretend that he had gained the least advantage. He was almost in despair, and many a time was tempted to cast himself into the lake. He would have done so without hesitation had there been any hope that thereby the sufferings of the queen and the princess could be alleviated.

One day as he was running, after his custom, from one side of the lake to the other, he was hailed by one of the ugliest of the dragons. ‘Swear by your crown and sceptre, by your kingly robe, by your wife and child,’ said the monster, ‘to give me a certain tit-bit to eat for which I have a fancy, whenever I shall ask for it, and I will take you on my back: none of the monsters in this lake which are guarding the palace will prevent us from carrying away the queen and Princess Moufette.’

‘Best of dragons!’ cried the king; ‘I swear to you, and to all of dragon blood, that you shall have your fill of whatsoever you desire, and I will be for ever your devoted servant.’

‘Promise nothing which you do not mean to fulfil,’ replied the dragon; ‘for otherwise life-long misfortunes may overwhelm you.’

The king repeated his assurances, for he was dying of impatience to regain his beloved queen, and mounted the dragon just as though he were the most dashing of steeds. But now the other monsters rushed to bar the way. The combat was joined, and nought was audible save the hissing of the serpents, nought visible save the brimstone, fire and sulphur, which were belched forth in every direction.

The king reached the palace at last, but there fresh efforts were required of him, for the entrances were defended by bats and owls and ravens. But even the boldest of these was torn to pieces by the dragon, who attacked them tooth and nail. The queen, too, who was a spectator of this savage fight, kicked down chunks of the wall, and armed with these helped her dear husband in the fray. Victory at length rested with them, and as they flew to one another’s arms, the enchantment was brought to an end by a thunderbolt which plunged into the lake and dried it up.

The friendly dragon vanished, along with all the other monsters, and the king found himself (by what means he had not the least idea) home again in his own city, and seated, with his queen and Moufette beside him, in a splendid dining-hall before a table laid with the richest fare. Never before was there such amazement and delight as theirs. The populace came running for a sight of the queen and princess, and to add to the wonder of it all, the latter was seen to be attired in apparel of such magnificence that the gaze was almost dazzled by her jewels.

You can easily imagine what festivities now took place at the palace. There were masquerades, and tournaments with tilting at the ring which attracted the highest princes from all over the world; even more were these drawn by the bright eyes of Moufette.

Amongst the handsomest and most accomplished in skill-at-arms, there was none anywhere who could outshine Prince Moufy. He won the applause and admiration of all, and Moufette, who had hitherto known only dragons and serpents, was not backward in according him her share of praise. Prince Moufy was deeply in love with her, and not a day passed but he showed her some fresh attention in the hope of gaining her favour. In due course he offered himself as a suitor, informing the king and queen that his realm was of a richness and extent that might well claim their favourable consideration.

The king replied that Moufette should make her own choice of husband, for his only wish was to please her and make her happy. With this answer the prince was well satisfied, for he was already aware that the princess was not indifferent to him. He offered her his hand, and she declared that if he were not to be her husband, then no other man should be. Prince Moufy threw himself in rapture at her feet, and exacted, lover-like, a promise that she would keep her word with him.

The prince and princess were betrothed, and Prince Moufy then returned to his own realm, in order to make preparations for the marriage. Moufette wept much at his going, for she was oppressed by an inexplicable presentiment of evil. The prince likewise was much downcast, and the queen, noticing this, gave him a portrait of her daughter with an injunction to curtail the splendour of his preparations rather than allow his return to be delayed. The prince was nothing loth to obey her behest, and promised to adopt a course which so well consulted his own happiness.

One day, when she was in the queen’s apartment, the king rushed in. Tears were streaming down his face as he took his daughter in his arms and cried aloud: ‘Alas, my child! O wretched father! O miserable king!’ Sobs choked his utterance, and he could say no more.

Greatly alarmed, the queen and princess asked him what had happened, and at last he got out that there had just arrived an enormously tall giant, who professed to be an envoy of the dragon of the lake; and that in pursuance of the promise which the king had given in exchange for assistance in fighting the monsters, the dragon demanded that he should give up the princess, as he desired to make her into a pie for dinner. The king added that he had bound himself by solemn oaths to give the dragon what he asked—and in the days of which we are telling no one ever broke his word.

The queen received this dire news with piercing shrieks, and clasped her child to her bosom. ‘My life shall be forfeit,’ she cried, ‘ere my daughter is delivered up to this monster. Let him rather take our kingdom and all that we have. Unnatural father! Is it possible you can consent to such cruelty? What! My child to be made into a pie! The bare notion is intolerable! Send this grim envoy to me; it may be the spectacle of my anguish will soften his heart.’

The king said nothing, but went in quest of the giant. He brought him to the queen, who flung herself at his feet with her daughter. She begged him to have mercy, and to persuade the dragon to take all that they possessed, but to spare Moufette’s life. The giant replied, however, that the matter did not rest with him. The dragon, he said, was so obstinate, and so addicted to the pleasures of the table, that no power on earth would restrain him from eating what he had a mind to make a meal of. Furthermore, he counselled them, as a friend, to yield with a good grace lest greater ills should be in store. At these words the queen fainted, and the princess would have been in similar case, if she had not been obliged to go to the assistance of her mother.

No sooner was the dreadful news known throughout the palace than it spread all over the city. On all sides there was weeping and wailing, for Moufette was greatly beloved.

The king could not bring himself to give her up to the giant, and the latter, after waiting several days, grew restive and began to utter terrible threats. But the king and queen, taking counsel together, were agreed. ‘What is there worse that could happen to us?’ they said; ‘if the dragon of the lake were to come and eat us all up, we could not suffer more, for if Moufette is put into a pie that will be the end of us.’

Presently the giant informed them that he had received a message from the dragon, to the effect that if the princess would agree to marry one of his nephews, he would spare her life. This nephew was not only young and handsome, but a prince to boot; and there was no doubt of her being able to live very happily with him.

This proposal somewhat assuaged their grief, but when the queen mentioned it to the princess, she found her more ready to face death than entertain this marriage. ‘I cannot break faith just to save my life,’ said Moufette. ‘You promised me to Prince Moufy, and I will marry none else. Let me perish, for my death will enable you to live in peace.’ The king in his turn tried, with many endearments, to persuade her, but she could not be moved. Finally, therefore, it was arranged that she should be conducted to a mountain-top, there to await the dragon.

Everything was made ready for the great sacrificial rite, and nothing so mournful had ever been seen before. Black garments and pale, distraught faces were encountered at every turn. Four hundred maidens of the noblest birth, clad in long white robes and wearing crowns of cypress, accompanied the princess. The latter was borne in an open litter of black velvet, that all men might behold the wondrous miracle of her beauty. Her tresses, tied with crape, hung over her shoulders, and she wore a crown of jasmine and marigolds. The only thing that seemed to affect her was the grief of the king and queen, who walked behind her, overwhelmed with the burden of their sorrow. Beside the litter strode the giant, armed from top to toe, and looking hungrily at the princess, as though already he savoured his share of the dish she was to make. The air was filled with sighs and sobs, and the tears of the spectators made rivulets along the road.

‘O Frog, dear Frog,’ cried the queen; ‘you have indeed forsaken me! Why give me help in that dismal place and refuse it to me here? Had I but died then, I should not now be mourning the end of all my hopes, and I should have been spared the agony of waiting to see my darling Moufette devoured.’

Slowly the procession made its way to the summit of the fatal mountain. On arrival there the cries and lamentations broke out with renewed force, and a more pitiful noise was never heard before. The giant then directed that all farewells must be said, and a general withdrawal made, and his order was obeyed. Folks in those days were docile and obedient, and never thought of combating ill-fortune.

The king and queen, with all the Court, now climbed another hill-top, from which they could obtain a view of all that happened to the princess. They had not long to wait, for they quickly espied a dragon, half a league long, sailing through the sky. He flew laboriously, for his bulk was so great that even six large wings could hardly support it. His body was covered all over with immense blue scales and tongues of poison flame, his twisted tail had fifty coils and another half coil beyond that, while his claws were each as big as a windmill. His jaws were agape, and inside could be seen three rows of teeth as long as an elephant’s tusks.

Now while the dragon was slowly wending his way to the mountain-top, the good and faithful Frog, mounted on a hawk’s back, was flying at full speed to Prince Moufy. She was wearing her cap of roses, and though he was locked in his privy chamber she needed no key to enter.

‘Hapless lover!’ she cried; ‘what are you doing here? This very moment, while you sit dreaming about her beauty, Moufette is in direst peril! See, here is a rose-leaf; I have but to blow upon it and it will become a mettlesome steed.’

As she spoke there suddenly appeared a green horse. It had twelve hoofs and three heads, and from the latter it could spit forth fire, bomb-shells, and cannon-balls respectively. The Frog then gave the prince a sword, eight yards long and no heavier than a feather, and a garment fashioned out of a single diamond. This he slipped on like a coat, and though it was hard as rock it was so pliant that his movements were in no way impeded.

‘Now fly to the rescue of your love,’ said the Frog; ‘the green horse will carry you to her. Do not omit to let her know, when you have delivered her, of what my part has been.’

‘Great-hearted fairy!’ cried the prince, ‘this is no moment to return you thanks, but from henceforth I am your faithful servant.’

Off went the horse with the three heads, galloping on its twelve hoofs three times as fast, and more, than the best of ordinary steeds; and in a very short time the prince had reached the mountain, where he found his dear princess all alone.

As the dragon slowly drew near, the green horse began to throw out fire, bomb-shells, and cannon-balls, which greatly disconcerted the monster. Twenty balls lodged in his throat, his scaly armour was dinted, and the bomb-shells put out one of his eyes. This enraged him, and he tried to hurl himself upon the prince. But the latter’s long sword was so finely tempered that he could do what he liked with it, and now he plunged it in up to the hilt, now cut with it as though it had been a whip. The prince would have suffered, however, from the dragon’s claws had it not been for his diamond coat, which was impenetrable.

Moufette had recognised her lover from afar, for the gleaming diamond which covered him was transparent; and she was like to die of terror at the risk he ran. The king and queen, however, felt hope revive within them. They had little thought to see arriving so opportunely a horse with three heads and twelve hoofs that breathed forth fire and flame, nor yet a prince, in diamond mail, and armed with so redoubtable a sword, who performed such prodigies of valour. The king put his hat on the end of his stick, the queen tied a handkerchief to hers, and with all the Court following suit, there was no lack of signals of encouragement to the prince. Not that such were necessary, for his own stout heart and the peril in which he saw Moufette were enough to keep his courage up.

Heavens, how he fought! Barbs, talons, horns, wings, and scales fell from the dragon till the ground was covered with them, and the soil was dyed blue and green with the mingled blood of dragon and horse. Five times the prince was unhorsed, but each time he picked himself up and composedly mounted his steed again. Then would follow such cannonades, bombardments, and flame-throwing as had never been seen or heard of before.

At length, its strength exhausted, the dragon fell, and the prince delivered a finishing stroke. None could believe their eyes when from the gaping wound so made there stepped forth a handsome and elegant prince, clad in a coat of blue and gold velvet, embroidered with pearls, and wearing on his head a little Grecian helmet with a crest of white feathers. With outstretched hands this new-comer ran to Prince Moufy and embraced him.

‘How can I ever repay you, my gallant deliverer?’ he cried. ‘Never was monarch confined in a more dreadful prison than the one from which you have freed me. It is sixteen years since the Lion-Witch condemned me to it, and I have languished there ever since. Moreover, such is her power that she would have obliged me, against my will, to devour that sweet princess. I beg you to let me pay my respects to her, and explain my hapless plight!’

Astonished and delighted by the remarkable way in which his adventure had ended, Prince Moufy lavished courtesies upon the newly-discovered prince. Together they went to Moufette, who rendered thanks a thousand times to Providence for her unexpected happiness. Already the king and queen and all the Court had joined her, and everybody spoke at once, and nobody listened to anybody, while nearly as many tears were shed for joy as a little time ago had been shed for grief. And finally, to set the crown on their rejoicing, the good Frog was espied flying through the air on her hawk. The latter had little golden bells upon its feet, and when the faint tinkling of these caused every one to look up, there was the Frog, beautiful as the dawn, with her cap of roses shining like the sun.

The queen ran to her and took her by one of her little paws. At that instant the wise Frog was transformed into a majestic royal lady of gracious mien. ‘I come,’ she cried, ‘to crown the faithful Moufette, who preferred to face death rather than break her word to Prince Moufy.’ With these words she placed two myrtle wreaths upon the lovers’ heads; and at a signal of three taps from her wand the dragon’s bones rose up and formed a triumphal arch to commemorate the auspicious occasion.

Back to the city went all the company, singing wedding songs as gladly as they had previously with sorrow bewailed the sacrifice of the princess. On the morrow the marriage took place, and with what festivities it was solemnised may be left to the imagination.

French Fairy Tales by the Countess d’Aulnoy

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Gratitude

1. The friendly frog helps the Queen many times after the Queen saves her life. Why do you think she does this?

2. What are some of the other ways that the friendly frog shows gratitude in this story?

3. Why do you think it is important to show each other gratitude when someone is kind to us?

The post The Friendly Frog first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence and an unhappy ending. We would encourage parents to read beforehand  if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there lived a queen who had been the mother of a great many children, and of them all only one daughter was left. But then she was worth at least a thousand.

Her mother, who, since the death of the King, her father, had nothing in the world she cared for so much as this little Princess, was so terribly afraid of losing her that she quite spoiled her, and never tried to correct any of her faults. The consequence was that this little person, who was as pretty as possible, and was one day to wear a crown, grew up so proud and so much in love with her own beauty that she despised everyone else in the world.

The Queen, her mother, by her caresses and flatteries, helped to make her believe that there was nothing too good for her. She was dressed almost always in the prettiest frocks, as a fairy, or as a queen going out to hunt, and the ladies of the Court followed her dressed as forest fairies.

And to make her more vain than ever the Queen caused her portrait to be taken by the cleverest painters and sent it to several neighboring kings with whom she was very friendly.

When they saw this portrait they fell in love with the Princess—every one of them, but upon each it had a different effect. One fell ill, one went quite crazy, and a few of the luckiest set off to see her as soon as possible, but these poor princes became her slaves the moment they set eyes on her.

Never has there been a gayer Court. Twenty delightful kings did everything they could think of to make themselves agreeable, and after having spent ever so much money in giving a single entertainment thought themselves very lucky if the Princess said “That’s pretty.”

All this admiration vastly pleased the Queen. Not a day passed but she received seven or eight thousand sonnets, and as many elegies, madrigals, and songs, which were sent her by all the poets in the world. All the prose and the poetry that was written just then was about Bellissima—for that was the Princess’s name—and all the bonfires that they had were made of these verses, which crackled and sparkled better than any other sort of wood.

Bellissima was already fifteen years old, and every one of the Princes wished to marry her, but not one dared to say so. How could they when they knew that any of them might have cut off his head five or six times a day just to please her, and she would have thought it a mere trifle, so little did she care? You may imagine how hard-hearted her lovers thought her; and the Queen, who wished to see her married, did not know how to persuade her to think of it seriously.

“Bellissima,” she said, “I do wish you would not be so proud. What makes you despise all these nice kings? I wish you to marry one of them, and you do not try to please me.”

“I am so happy,” Bellissima answered: “do leave me in peace, madam. I don’t want to care for anyone.”

“But you would be very happy with any of these Princes,” said the Queen, “and I shall be very angry if you fall in love with anyone who is not worthy of you.”

But the Princess thought so much of herself that she did not consider any one of her lovers clever or handsome enough for her; and her mother, who was getting really angry at her determination not to be married, began to wish that she had not allowed her to have her own way so much.

At last, not knowing what else to do, she resolved to consult a certain witch who was called “The Fairy of the Desert.” Now this was very difficult to do, as she was guarded by some terrible lions; but happily the Queen had heard a long time before that whoever wanted to pass these lions safely must throw to them a cake made of millet flour, sugar-candy, and crocodile’s eggs. This cake she prepared with her own hands, and putting it in a little basket, she set out to seek the Fairy. But as she was not used to walking far, she soon felt very tired and sat down at the foot of a tree to rest, and presently fell fast asleep. When she awoke she was dismayed to find her basket empty. The cake was all gone! and, to make matters worse, at that moment she heard the roaring of the great lions, who had found out that she was near and were coming to look for her.

“What shall I do?” she cried; “I shall be eaten up,” and being too frightened to run a single step, she began to cry, and leaned against the tree under which she had been asleep.

Just then she heard some one say: “H’m, h’m!”

She looked all round her, and then up the tree, and there she saw a little tiny man, who was eating oranges.

“Oh! Queen,” said he, “I know you very well, and I know how much afraid you are of the lions; and you are quite right too, for they have eaten many other people: and what can you expect, as you have not any cake to give them?”

“I must make up my mind to die,” said the poor Queen. “Alas! I should not care so much if only my dear daughter were married.”

“Oh! you have a daughter,” cried the Yellow Dwarf (who was so called because he was a dwarf and had such a yellow face, and lived in the orange tree). “I’m really glad to hear that, for I’ve been looking for a wife all over the world. Now, if you will promise that she shall marry me, not one of the lions, tigers, or bears shall touch you.”

The Queen looked at him and was almost as much afraid of his ugly little face as she had been of the lions before, so that she could not speak a word.

“What! you hesitate, madam,” cried the Dwarf. “You must be very fond of being eaten up alive.”

And, as he spoke, the Queen saw the lions, which were running down a hill toward them.

Each one had two heads, eight feet, and four rows of teeth, and their skins were as hard as turtle shells, and were bright red.

At this dreadful sight, the poor Queen, who was trembling like a dove when it sees a hawk, cried out as loud as she could, “Oh! dear Mr. Dwarf, Bellissima shall marry you.”

“Oh, indeed!” said he disdainfully. “Bellissima is pretty enough, but I don’t particularly want to marry her—you can keep her.”

“Oh! noble sir,” said the Queen in great distress, “do not refuse her. She is the most charming Princess in the world.”

“Oh! well,” he replied, “out of charity I will take her; but be sure and don’t forget that she is mine.”

As he spoke a little door opened in the trunk of the orange tree, in rushed the Queen, only just in time, and the door shut with a bang in the faces of the lions.

The Queen was so confused that at first she did not notice another little door in the orange tree, but presently it opened and she found herself in a field of thistles and nettles. It was encircled by a muddy ditch, and a little further on was a tiny thatched cottage, out of which came the Yellow Dwarf with a very jaunty air. He wore wooden shoes and a little yellow coat, and as he had no hair and very long ears he looked altogether a shocking little object.

“I am delighted,” said he to the Queen, “that, as you are to be my mother-in-law, you should see the little house in which your Bellissima will live with me. With these thistles and nettles she can feed a donkey which she can ride whenever she likes; under this humble roof no weather can hurt her; she will drink the water of this brook and eat frogs—which grow very fat about here; and then she will have me always with her, handsome, agreeable, and gay as you see me now. For if her shadow stays by her more closely than I do I shall be surprised.”

The unhappy Queen, seeing all at once what a miserable life her daughter would have with this Dwarf could not bear the idea, and fell down insensible without saying a word.

When she revived she found to her great surprise that she was lying in her own bed at home, and, what was more, that she had on the loveliest lace night cap that she had ever seen in her life. At first she thought that all her adventures, the terrible lions, and her promise to the Yellow Dwarf that he should marry Bellissima, must have been a dream, but there was the new cap with its beautiful ribbon and lace to remind her that it was all true, which made her so unhappy that she could neither eat, drink, nor sleep for thinking of it.

The Princess, who, in spite of her wilfulness, really loved her mother with all her heart, was much grieved when she saw her looking so sad, and often asked her what was the matter; but the Queen, who didn’t want her to find out the truth, only said that she was ill, or that one of her neighbors was threatening to make war against her. Bellissima knew quite well that something was being hidden from her—and that neither of these was the real reason of the Queen’s uneasiness. So she made up her mind that she would go and consult the Fairy of the Desert about it, especially as she had often heard how wise she was, and she thought that at the same time she might ask her advice as to whether it would be as well to be married, or not.

So, with great care, she made some of the proper cake to pacify the lions, and one night went up to her room very early, pretending that she was going to bed; but instead of that, she wrapped herself in a long white veil, and went down a secret staircase, and set off all by herself to find the Witch.

But when she got as far as the same fatal orange tree, and saw it covered with flowers and fruit, she stopped and began to gather some of the oranges—and then, putting down her basket, she sat down to eat them. But when it was time to go on again the basket had disappeared and, though she looked everywhere, not a trace of it could she find. The more she hunted for it, the more frightened she got, and at last she began to cry. Then all at once she saw before her the Yellow Dwarf.

“What’s the matter with you, my pretty one?” said he. “What are you crying about?”

“Alas!” she answered; “no wonder that I am crying, seeing that I have lost the basket of cake that was to help me to get safely to the cave of the Fairy of the Desert.”

“And what do you want with her, pretty one?” said the little monster, “for I am a friend of hers, and, for the matter of that, I am quite as clever as she is.”

“The Queen, my mother,” replied the Princess, “has lately fallen into such deep sadness that I fear that she will die; and I am afraid that perhaps I am the cause of it, for she very much wishes me to be married, and I must tell you truly that as yet I have not found anyone I consider worthy to be my husband. So for all these reasons I wished to talk to the Fairy.”

“Do not give yourself any further trouble, Princess,” answered the Dwarf. “I can tell you all you want to know better than she could. The Queen, your mother, has promised you in marriage——”

“Has promised me!” interrupted the Princess. “Oh! no. I’m sure she has not. She would have told me if she had. I am too much interested in the matter for her to promise anything without my consent—you must be mistaken.”

“Beautiful Princess,” cried the Dwarf suddenly, throwing himself on his knees before her, “I flatter myself that you will not be displeased at her choice when I tell you that it is to me she has promised the happiness of marrying you.”

“You!” cried Bellissima, starting back. “My mother wishes me to marry you! How can you be so silly as to think of such a thing?”

“Oh! it isn’t that I care much to have that honor,” cried the Dwarf angrily; “but here are the lions coming; they’ll eat you up in three mouthfuls, and there will be an end of you and your pride.”

And, indeed, at that moment the poor Princess heard their dreadful howls coming nearer and nearer.

“What shall I do?” she cried. “Must all my happy days come to an end like this?”

The malicious Dwarf looked at her and began to laugh spitefully. “At least,” said he, “you have the satisfaction of dying unmarried. A lovely Princess like you must surely prefer to die rather than be the wife of a poor little dwarf like myself.”

“Oh, don’t be angry with me,” cried the Princess, clasping her hands. “I’d rather marry all the dwarfs in the world than die in this horrible way.”

“Look at me well, Princess, before you give me your word,” said he. “I don’t want you to promise me in a hurry.”

“Oh!” cried she, “the lions are coming. I have looked at you enough. I am so frightened. Save me this minute, or I shall die of terror.”

Indeed, as she spoke she fell down insensible, and when she recovered she found herself in her own little bed at home; how she got there she could not tell, but she was dressed in the most beautiful lace and ribbons, and on her finger was a little ring, made of a single red hair, which fitted so tightly that, try as she might, she could not get it off.

When the Princess saw all these things, and remembered what had happened, she, too, fell into the deepest sadness, which surprised and alarmed the whole Court, and the Queen more than anyone else. A hundred times she asked Bellissima if anything was the matter with her; but she always said that there was nothing.

At last the chief men of the kingdom, anxious to see their Princess married, sent to the Queen to beg her to choose a husband for her as soon as possible. She replied that nothing would please her better, but that her daughter seemed so unwilling to marry, and she recommended them to go and talk to the Princess about it themselves so this they at once did. Now Bellissima was much less proud since her adventure with the Yellow Dwarf, and she could not think of a better way of getting rid of the little monster than to marry some powerful king, therefore she replied to their request much more favorably than they had hoped, saying that, though she was very happy as she was, still, to please them, she would consent to marry the King of the Gold Mines. Now he was a very handsome and powerful Prince, who had been in love with the Princess for years, but had not thought that she would ever care about him at all. You can easily imagine how delighted he was when he heard the news, and how angry it made all the other kings to lose for ever the hope of marrying the Princess; but, after all, Bellissima could not have married twenty kings—indeed, she had found it quite difficult enough to choose one, for her vanity made her believe that there was nobody in the world who was worthy of her.

Preparations were begun at once for the grandest wedding that had ever been held at the palace. The King of the Gold Mines sent such immense sums of money that the whole sea was covered with the ships that brought it. Messengers were sent to all the gayest and most refined Courts, particularly to the Court of France, to seek out everything rare and precious to adorn the Princess, although her beauty was so perfect that nothing she wore could make her look prettier. At least that is what the King of the Gold Mines thought, and he was never happy unless he was with her.

As for the Princess, the more she saw of the King the more she liked him; he was so generous, so handsome and clever, that at last she was almost as much in love with him as he was with her. How happy they were as they wandered about in the beautiful gardens together, sometimes listening to sweet music! And the King used to write songs for Bellissima. This is one that she liked very much:

In the forest all is gay
When my Princess walks that way.
All the blossoms then are found
Downward fluttering to the ground,
Hoping she may tread on them.
And bright flowers on slender stem
Gaze up at her as she passes
Brushing lightly through the grasses.
Oh! my Princess, birds above
Echo back our songs of love,
As through this enchanted land
Blithe we wander, hand in hand.

They really were as happy as the day was long. All the King’s unsuccessful rivals had gone home in despair. They said good-by to the Princess so sadly that she could not help being sorry for them.

“Ah! madam,” the King of the Gold Mines said to her “how is this? Why do you waste your pity on these princes, who love you so much that all their trouble would be well repaid by a single smile from you?”

“I should be sorry,” answered Bellissima, “if you had not noticed how much I pitied these princes who were leaving me for ever; but for you, sire, it is very different: you have every reason to be pleased with me, but they are going sorrowfully away, so you must not grudge them my compassion.”

The King of the Gold Mines was quite overcome by the Princess’s good-natured way of taking his interference, and, throwing himself at her feet, he kissed her hand a thousand times and begged her to forgive him.

At last the happy day came. Everything was ready for Bellissima’s wedding. The trumpets sounded, all the streets of the town were hung with flags and strewn with flowers, and the people ran in crowds to the great square before the palace. The Queen was so overjoyed that she had hardly been able to sleep at all, and she got up before it was light to give the necessary orders and to choose the jewels that the Princess was to wear. These were nothing less than diamonds, even to her shoes, which were covered with them, and her dress of silver brocade was embroidered with a dozen of the sun’s rays. You may imagine how much these had cost; but then nothing could have been more brilliant, except the beauty of the Princess! Upon her head she wore a splendid crown, her lovely hair waved nearly to her feet, and her stately figure could easily be distinguished among all the ladies who attended her.

The King of the Gold Mines was not less noble and splendid; it was easy to see by his face how happy he was, and everyone who went near him returned loaded with presents, for all round the great banqueting hall had been arranged a thousand barrels full of gold, and numberless bags made of velvet embroidered with pearls and filled with money, each one containing at least a hundred thousand gold pieces, which were given away to everyone who liked to hold out his hand, which numbers of people hastened to do, you may be sure—indeed, some found this by far the most amusing part of the wedding festivities.

The Queen and the Princess were just ready to set out with the King when they saw, advancing toward them from the end of the long gallery, two great basilisks, dragging after them a very badly made box; behind them came a tall old woman, whose ugliness was even more surprising than her extreme old age. She wore a ruff of black taffeta, a red velvet hood, and a farthingale all in rags, and she leaned heavily upon a crutch. This strange old woman, without saying a single word, hobbled three times round the gallery, followed by the basilisks, then stopping in the middle, and brandishing her crutch threateningly, she cried:

“Ho, ho, Queen! Ho, ho, Princess! Do you think you are going to break with impunity the promise that you made to my friend the Yellow Dwarf? I am the Fairy of the Desert; without the Yellow Dwarf and his orange tree my great lions would soon have eaten you up, I can tell you, and in Fairyland we do not suffer ourselves to be insulted like this. Make up your minds at once what you will do, for I vow that you shall marry the Yellow Dwarf. If you don’t, may I burn my crutch!”

“Ah! Princess,” said the Queen, weeping, “what is this that I hear? What have you promised?”

“Ah! my mother,” replied Bellissima sadly, “what did you promise, yourself?”

The King of the Gold Mines, indignant at being kept from his happiness by this wicked old woman, went up to her, and threatening her with his sword, said:

“Get away out of my country at once, and for ever, miserable creature, lest I take your life, and so rid myself of your malice.”

He had hardly spoken these words when the lid of the box fell back on the floor with a terrible noise, and to their horror out sprang the Yellow Dwarf, mounted upon a great Spanish cat. “Rash youth!” he cried, rushing between the Fairy of the Desert and the King. “Dare to lay a finger upon this illustrious Fairy! Your quarrel is with me only. I am your enemy and your rival. That faithless Princess who would have married you is promised to me. See if she has not upon her finger a ring made of one of my hairs. Just try to take it off, and you will soon find out that I am more powerful than you are!”

“Wretched little monster!” said the King; “do you dare to call yourself the Princess’s lover, and to lay claim to such a treasure? Do you know that you are a dwarf—that you are so ugly that one cannot bear to look at you—and that I should have killed you myself long before this if you had been worthy of such a glorious death?”

The Yellow Dwarf, deeply enraged at these words, set spurs to his cat, which yelled horribly, and leaped hither and thither—terrifying everybody except the brave King, who pursued the Dwarf closely, till he, drawing a great knife with which he was armed, challenged the King to meet him in single combat, and rushed down into the courtyard of the palace with a terrible clatter. The King, quite provoked, followed him hastily, but they had hardly taken their places facing one another, and the whole Court had only just had time to rush out upon the balconies to watch what was going on, when suddenly the sun became as red as blood, and it was so dark that they could scarcely see at all. The thunder crashed, and the lightning seemed as if it must burn up everything; the two basilisks appeared, one on each side of the bad Dwarf, like giants, mountains high, and fire flew from their mouths and ears, until they looked like flaming furnaces. None of these things could terrify the noble young King, and the boldness of his looks and actions reassured those who were looking on, and perhaps even embarrassed the Yellow Dwarf himself; but even his courage gave way when he saw what was happening to his beloved Princess. For the Fairy of the Desert, looking more terrible than before, mounted upon a winged griffin, and with long snakes coiled round her neck, had given her such a blow with the lance she carried that Bellissima fell into the Queen’s arms bleeding and senseless. Her fond mother, feeling as much hurt by the blow as the Princess herself, uttered such piercing cries and lamentations that the King, hearing them, entirely lost his courage and presence of mind. Giving up the combat, he flew toward the Princess, to rescue or to die with her; but the Yellow Dwarf was too quick for him. Leaping with his Spanish cat upon the balcony, he snatched Bellissima from the Queen’s arms, and before any of the ladies of the Court could stop him he had sprung upon the roof of the palace and disappeared with his prize.

The King, motionless with horror, looked on despairingly at this dreadful occurrence, which he was quite powerless to prevent, and to make matters worse his sight failed him, everything became dark, and he felt himself carried along through the air by a strong hand.

This new misfortune was the work of the wicked Fairy of the Desert, who had come with the Yellow Dwarf to help him carry off the Princess, and had fallen in love with the handsome young King of the Gold Mines directly she saw him. She thought that if she carried him off to some frightful cavern and chained him to a rock, then the fear of death would make him forget Bellissima and become her slave. So, as soon as they reached the place, she gave him back his sight, but without releasing him from his chains, and by her magic power she appeared before him as a young and beautiful fairy, and pretended to have come there quite by chance.

“What do I see?” she cried. “Is it you, dear Prince? What misfortune has brought you to this dismal place?”

The King, who was quite deceived by her altered appearance, replied:

“Alas! beautiful Fairy, the fairy who brought me here first took away my sight, but by her voice I recognized her as the Fairy of the Desert, though what she should have carried me off for I cannot tell you.”

“Ah!” cried the pretended Fairy, “if you have fallen into her hands, you won’t get away until you have married her. She has carried off more than one Prince like this, and she will certainly have anything she takes a fancy to.” While she was thus pretending to be sorry for the King, he suddenly noticed her feet, which were like those of a griffin, and knew in a moment that this must be the Fairy of the Desert, for her feet were the one thing she could not change, however pretty she might make her face.

Without seeming to have noticed anything, he said, in a confidential way:

“Not that I have any dislike to the Fairy of the Desert, but I really cannot endure the way in which she protects the Yellow Dwarf and keeps me chained here like a criminal. It is true that I love a charming princess, but if the Fairy should set me free my gratitude would oblige me to love her only.”

“Do you really mean what you say, Prince?” said the Fairy, quite deceived.

“Surely,” replied the Prince; “how could I deceive you? You see it is so much more flattering to my vanity to be loved by a fairy than by a simple princess. But, even if I am dying of love for her, I shall pretend to hate her until I am set free.”

The Fairy of the Desert, quite taken in by these words, resolved at once to transport the Prince to a pleasanter place. So, making him mount her chariot, to which she had harnessed swans instead of the bats which generally drew it, away she flew with him. But imagine the distress of the Prince when, from the giddy height at which they were rushing through the air, he saw his beloved Princess in a castle built of polished steel, the walls of which reflected the sun’s rays so hotly that no one could approach it without being burnt to a cinder! Bellissima was sitting in a little thicket by a brook, leaning her head upon her hand and weeping bitterly, but just as they passed she looked up and saw the King and the Fairy of the Desert. Now, the Fairy was so clever that she could not only seem beautiful to the King, but even the poor Princess thought her the most lovely being she had ever seen.

“What!” she cried; “was I not unhappy enough in this lonely castle to which that frightful Yellow Dwarf brought me? Must I also be made to know that the King of the Gold Mines ceased to love me as soon as he lost sight of me? But who can my rival be, whose fatal beauty is greater than mine?”

While she was saying this, the King, who really loved her as much as ever, was feeling terribly sad at being so rapidly torn away from his beloved Princess, but he knew too well how powerful the Fairy was to have any hope of escaping from her except by great patience and cunning.

The Fairy of the Desert had also seen Bellissima, and she tried to read in the King’s eyes the effect that this unexpected sight had had upon him.

“No one can tell you what you wish to know better than I can,” said he. “This chance meeting with an unhappy princess for whom I once had a passing fancy, before I was lucky enough to meet you, has affected me a little, I admit, but you are so much more to me than she is that I would rather die than leave you.”

“Ah, Prince,” she said, “can I believe that you really love me so much?”

“Time will show, madam,” replied the King; “but if you wish to convince me that you have some regard for me, do not, I beg of you, refuse to aid Bellissima.”

“Do you know what you are asking?” said the Fairy of the Desert, frowning, and looking at him suspiciously. “Do you want me to employ my art against the Yellow Dwarf, who is my best friend, and take away from him a proud princess whom I can but look upon as my rival?”

The King sighed, but made no answer—indeed, what was there to be said to such a clear-sighted person? At last they reached a vast meadow, gay with all sorts of flowers; a deep river surrounded it, and many little brooks murmured softly under the shady trees, where it was always cool and fresh. A little way off stood a splendid palace, the walls of which were of transparent emeralds. As soon as the swans which drew the Fairy’s chariot had alighted under a porch, which was paved with diamonds and had arches of rubies, they were greeted on all sides by thousands of beautiful beings, who came to meet them joyfully, singing these words:

“When Love within a heart would reign,
Useless to strive against him ‘tis.
The proud but feel a sharper pain,
And make a greater triumph his.”

The Fairy of the Desert was delighted to hear them sing of her triumphs; she led the King into the most splendid room that can be imagined, and left him alone for a little while, just that he might not feel that he was a prisoner; but he felt sure that she had not really gone quite away, but was watching him from some hiding-place. So walking up to a great mirror, he said to it, “Trusty counsellor, let me see what I can do to make myself agreeable to the charming Fairy of the Desert; for I can think of nothing but how to please her.”

And he at once set to work to curl his hair, and, seeing upon a table a grander coat than his own, he put it on carefully. The Fairy came back so delighted that she could not conceal her joy.

“I am quite aware of the trouble you have taken to please me,” said she, “and I must tell you that you have succeeded perfectly already. You see it is not difficult to do if you really care for me.”

The King, who had his own reasons for wishing to keep the old Fairy in a good humor, did not spare pretty speeches, and after a time he was allowed to walk by himself upon the sea-shore. The Fairy of the Desert had by her enchantments raised such a terrible storm that the boldest pilot would not venture out in it, so she was not afraid of her prisoner’s being able to escape; and he found it some relief to think sadly over his terrible situation without being interrupted by his cruel captor.

Presently, after walking wildly up and down, he wrote these verses upon the sand with his stick:

“At last may I upon this shore
Lighten my sorrow with soft tears.
Alas! alas! I see no more
My Love, who yet my sadness cheers.

“And thou, O raging, stormy Sea,
Stirred by wild winds, from depth to height,
Thou hold’st my loved one far from me,
And I am captive to thy might.

“My heart is still more wild than thine,
For Fate is cruel unto me.
Why must I thus in exile pine?
Why is my Princess snatched from me?

“O! lovely Nymphs, from ocean caves,
Who know how sweet true love may be,
Come up and calm the furious waves
And set a desperate lover free!”

While he was still writing he heard a voice which attracted his attention in spite of himself. Seeing that the waves were rolling in higher than ever, he looked all round, and presently saw a lovely lady floating gently toward him upon the crest of a huge billow, her long hair spread all about her; in one hand she held a mirror, and in the other a comb, and instead of feet she had a beautiful tail like a fish, with which she swam.

The King was struck dumb with astonishment at this unexpected sight; but as soon as she came within speaking distance, she said to him, “I know how sad you are at losing your Princess and being kept a prisoner by the Fairy of the Desert; if you like I will help you to escape from this fatal place, where you may otherwise have to drag on a weary existence for thirty years or more.”

The King of the Gold Mines hardly knew what answer to make to this proposal. Not because he did not wish very much to escape, but he was afraid that this might be only another device by which the Fairy of the Desert was trying to deceive him. As he hesitated the Mermaid, who guessed his thoughts, said to him:

“You may trust me: I am not trying to entrap you. I am so angry with the Yellow Dwarf and the Fairy of the Desert that I am not likely to wish to help them, especially since I constantly see your poor Princess, whose beauty and goodness make me pity her so much; and I tell you that if you will have confidence in me I will help you to escape.”

“I trust you absolutely,” cried the King, “and I will do whatever you tell me; but if you have seen my Princess I beg of you to tell me how she is and what is happening to her.

“We must not waste time in talking,” said she. “Come with me and I will carry you to the Castle of Steel, and we will leave upon this shore a figure so like you that even the Fairy herself will be deceived by it.”

So saying, she quickly collected a bundle of sea-weed, and, blowing it three times, she said:

“My friendly sea-weeds, I order you to stay here stretched upon the sand until the Fairy of the Desert comes to take you away.” And at once the sea-weeds became like the King, who stood looking at them in great astonishment, for they were even dressed in a coat like his, but they lay there pale and still as the King himself might have lain if one of the great waves had overtaken him and thrown him senseless upon the shore. And then the Mermaid caught up the King, and away they swam joyfully together.

“Now,” said she, “I have time to tell you about the Princess. In spite of the blow which the Fairy of the Desert gave her, the Yellow Dwarf compelled her to mount behind him upon his terrible Spanish cat; but she soon fainted away with pain and terror, and did not recover till they were within the walls of his frightful Castle of Steel. Here she was received by the prettiest girls it was possible to find, who had been carried there by the Yellow Dwarf, who hastened to wait upon her and showed her every possible attention. She was laid upon a couch covered with cloth of gold, embroidered with pearls as big as nuts.”

“Ah!” interrupted the King of the Gold Mines, “if Bellissima forgets me, and consents to marry him, I shall break my heart.”

“You need not be afraid of that,” answered the Mermaid, “the Princess thinks of no one but you, and the frightful Dwarf cannot persuade her to look at him.”

“Pray go on with your story,” said the King.

“What more is there to tell you?” replied the Mermaid. “Bellissima was sitting in the wood when you passed, and saw you with the Fairy of the Desert, who was so cleverly disguised that the Princess took her to be prettier than herself; you may imagine her despair, for she thought that you had fallen in love with her.”

“She believes that I love her!” cried the King. “What a fatal mistake! What is to be done to undeceive her?”

“You know best,” answered the Mermaid, smiling kindly at him. “When people are as much in love with one another as you two are, they don’t need advice from anyone else.”

As she spoke they reached the Castle of Steel, the side next the sea being the only one which the Yellow Dwarf had left unprotected by the dreadful burning walls.

“I know quite well,” said the Mermaid, “that the Princess is sitting by the brook-side, just where you saw her as you passed, but as you will have many enemies to fight with before you can reach her, take this sword; armed with it you may dare any danger, and overcome the greatest difficulties, only beware of one thing—that is, never to let it fall from your hand. Farewell; now I will wait by that rock, and if you need my help in carrying off your beloved Princess I will not fail you, for the Queen, her mother, is my best friend, and it was for her sake that I went to rescue you.”

So saying, she gave to the King a sword made from a single diamond, which was more brilliant than the sun. He could not find words to express his gratitude, but he begged her to believe that he fully appreciated the importance of her gift, and would never forget her help and kindness.

We must now go back to the Fairy of the Desert. When she found that the King did not return, she hastened out to look for him, and reached the shore, with a hundred of the ladies of her train, loaded with splendid presents for him. Some carried baskets full of diamonds, others golden cups of wonderful workmanship, and amber, coral, and pearls, others, again, balanced upon their heads bales of the richest and most beautiful stuffs, while the rest brought fruit and flowers, and even birds. But what was the horror of the Fairy, who followed this gay troop, when she saw, stretched upon the sands, the image of the King which the Mermaid had made with the sea-weeds. Struck with astonishment and sorrow, she uttered a terrible cry, and threw herself down beside the pretended King, weeping, and howling, and calling upon her eleven sisters, who were also fairies, and who came to her assistance. But they were all taken in by the image of the King, for, clever as they were, the Mermaid was still cleverer, and all they could do was to help the Fairy of the Desert to make a wonderful monument over what they thought was the grave of the King of the Gold Mines. But while they were collecting jasper and porphyry, agate and marble, gold and bronze, statues and devices, to immortalize the King’s memory, he was thanking the good Mermaid and begging her still to help him, which she graciously promised to do as she disappeared; and then he set out for the Castle of Steel. He walked fast, looking anxiously round him, and longing once more to see his darling Bellissima, but he had not gone far before he was surrounded by four terrible sphinxes who would very soon have torn him to pieces with their sharp talons if it had not been for the Mermaid’s diamond sword. For, no sooner had he flashed it before their eyes than down they fell at his feet quite helpless, and he killed them with one blow. But he had hardly turned to continue his search when he met six dragons covered with scales that were harder than iron. Frightful as this encounter was the King’s courage was unshaken, and by the aid of his wonderful sword he cut them in pieces one after the other. Now he hoped his difficulties were over, but at the next turning he was met by one which he did not know how to overcome. Four-and-twenty pretty and graceful nymphs advanced toward him, holding garlands of flowers, with which they barred the way.

“Where are you going, Prince?” they said; “it is our duty to guard this place, and if we let you pass great misfortunes will happen to you and to us. We beg you not to insist upon going on. Do you want to kill four-and-twenty girls who have never displeased you in any way?”

The King did not know what to do or to say. It went against all his ideas as a knight to do anything a lady begged him not to do; but, as he hesitated, a voice in his ear said:

“Strike! strike! and do not spare, or your Princess is lost for ever!”

So, without reply to the nymphs, he rushed forward instantly, breaking their garlands, and scattering them in all directions; and then went on without further hindrance to the little wood where he had seen Bellissima. She was seated by the brook looking pale and weary when he reached her, and he would have thrown himself down at her feet, but she drew herself away from him with as much indignation as if he had been the Yellow Dwarf.

“Ah! Princess,” he cried, “do not be angry with me. Let me explain everything. I am not faithless or to blame for what has happened. I am a miserable wretch who has displeased you without being able to help himself.”

“Ah!” cried Bellissima, “did I not see you flying through the air with the loveliest being imaginable? Was that against your will?”

“Indeed it was, Princess,” he answered; “the wicked Fairy of the Desert, not content with chaining me to a rock, carried me off in her chariot to the other end of the earth, where I should even now be a captive but for the unexpected help of a friendly mermaid, who brought me here to rescue you, my Princess, from the unworthy hands that hold you. Do not refuse the aid of your most faithful lover.” So saying, he threw himself at her feet and held her by her robe. But, alas! in so doing he let fall the magic sword, and the Yellow Dwarf, who was crouching behind a lettuce, no sooner saw it than he sprang out and seized it, well knowing its wonderful power.

The Princess gave a cry of terror on seeing the Dwarf, but this only irritated the little monster; muttering a few magical words he summoned two giants, who bound the King with great chains of iron.

“Now,” said the Dwarf, “I am master of my rival’s fate, but I will give him his life and permission to depart unharmed if you, Princess, will consent to marry me.”

“Let me die a thousand times rather,” cried the unhappy King.

“Alas!” cried the Princess, “must you die? Could anything be more terrible?”

“That you should marry that little wretch would be far more terrible,” answered the King.

“At least,” continued she, “let us die together.”

“Let me have the satisfaction of dying for you, my Princess,” said he.

“Oh, no, no!” she cried, turning to the Dwarf; “rather than that I will do as you wish.”

“Cruel Princess!” said the King, “would you make my life horrible to me by marrying another before my eyes?”

“Not so,” replied the Yellow Dwarf; “you are a rival of whom I am too much afraid; you shall not see our marriage.” So saying, in spite of Bellissima’s tears and cries, he stabbed the King to the heart with the diamond sword.

The poor Princess, seeing her lover lying dead at her feet, could no longer live without him; she sank down by him and died of a broken heart.

So ended these unfortunate lovers, whom not even the Mermaid could help, because all the magic power had been lost with the diamond sword.

As to the wicked Dwarf, he preferred to see the Princess dead rather than married to the King of the Gold Mines; and the Fairy of the Desert, when she heard of the King’s adventures, pulled down the grand monument which she had built, and was so angry at the trick that had been played her that she hated him as much as she had loved him before.

The kind Mermaid, grieved at the sad fate of the lovers, caused them to be changed into two tall palm trees, which stand always side by side, whispering together of their faithful love and caressing one another with their interlacing branches.

French Fairy Tale by the Countess d’Aulnoy

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Promises, Fairness

1. The yellow dwarf forced Bellissima and her mother make a promise that Bellissima would marry him, when they were faced with death from wild animals. Do you think it was fair for the Yellow Dwarf to ask for a promise like this? Why or why not?

2. Once the promise had been made, Bellissima and her mother tried to escape completing the promise . Do you think they were right to do so? Why or why not?

3. Do you think Belissima, her mother and the King deserved the bad things that happened to them? Why or why not?

The post The Yellow Dwarf first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and may contain violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand  if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen. They had three sons, two of them with their wits about them, but the third a simpleton. Now the King had a deer park in which were quantities of wild animals of different kinds. Into that park there used to come a huge beast—Norka was its name—and do fearful mischief, devouring some of the animals every night. The King did all he could, but he was unable to destroy it. So at last he called his sons together and said, ‘Whoever will destroy the Norka, to him will I give the half of my kingdom.’

Well, the eldest son undertook the task. As soon as it was night, he took his weapons and set out. But before he reached the park, he went into a tavern, and there he spent the whole night in revelry. When he came to his senses it was too late; the day had already dawned. He felt himself disgraced in the eyes of his father, but there was no help for it. The next day the second son went, and did just the same. Their father scolded them both soundly, and there was an end of it.

Well, on the third day the youngest son undertook the task. They all laughed him to scorn, because he was so stupid, feeling sure he wouldn’t do anything. But he took his arms, and went straight into the park, and sat down on the grass in such a position that the moment he went asleep his weapons would prick him, and he would awake.

Presently the midnight hour sounded. The earth began to shake, and the Norka came rushing up, and burst right through the fence into the park, so huge was it. The Prince pulled himself together, leapt to his feet, crossed himself, and went straight at the beast. It fled back, and the Prince ran after it. But he soon saw that he couldn’t catch it on foot, so he hastened to the stable, laid his hands on the best horse there, and set off in pursuit.

Presently he came up with the beast, and they began a fight. They fought and fought; the Prince gave the beast three wounds. At last they were both utterly exhausted, so they lay down to take a short rest.

But the moment the Prince closed his eyes, up jumped the beast and took to flight. The Prince’s horse awoke him; up he jumped in a moment, and set off again in pursuit, caught up the beast, and again began fighting with it. Again the Prince gave the beast three wounds, and then he and the beast lay down again to rest. Thereupon away fled the beast as before. The Prince caught it up, and again gave it three wounds.

But all of a sudden, just as the Prince began chasing it for the fourth time, the beast fled to a great white stone, tilted it up, and escaped into the other world, crying out to the Prince: ‘Then only will you overcome me, when you enter here.’

The Prince went home, told his father all that had happened, and asked him to have a leather rope plaited, long enough to reach to the other world. His father ordered this to be done. When the rope was made, the Prince called for his brothers, and he and they, having taken servants with them, and everything that was needed for a whole year, set out for the place where the beast had disappeared under the stone. When they got there, they built a palace on the spot, and lived in it for some time. But when everything was ready, the youngest brother said to the others: ‘Now, brothers, who is going to lift this stone?’
Neither of them could so much as stir it, but as soon as he touched it, away it flew to a distance, though it was ever so big—big as a hill. And when he had flung the stone aside, he spoke a second time to his brothers, saying:

‘Who is going into the other world, to overcome the Norka?’

Neither of them offered to do so. Then he laughed at them for being such cowards, and said:

‘Well, brothers, farewell! Lower me into the other world, and don’t go away from here, but as soon as the cord is jerked, pull it up.’

His brothers lowered him accordingly, and when he had reached the other world, underneath the earth, he went on his way. He walked and walked. Presently he espied a horse with rich trappings, and it said to him:

‘Hail, Prince Ivan! Long have I awaited thee!’

He mounted the horse and rode on—rode and rode, until he saw standing before him a palace made of copper. He entered the courtyard, tied up his horse, and went indoors. In one of the rooms a dinner was laid out. He sat down and dined, and then went into a bedroom. There he found a bed, on which he lay down to rest. Presently there came in a lady, more beautiful than can be imagined anywhere but in a fairy tale, who said:

‘You who are in my house, name yourself! If you are an old man, you shall be my father; if a middle-aged man, my brother; but if a young man, you shall be my husband dear. And if you are a woman, and an old one, you shall be my grandmother; if middle-aged, my mother; and if a girl, you shall be my own sister.’

Thereupon he came forth. And when she saw him she was delighted with him, and said:

‘Wherefore, O Prince Ivan—my husband dear shall you be!—why have you come here?’

Then he told her all that had happened, and she said:

‘That beast which you wish to overcome is my brother. He is staying just now with my second sister, who lives not far from here in a silver palace. I bound up three of the wounds which you gave him.’

Well, after this they drank, and enjoyed themselves, and held sweet converse together, and then the Prince took leave of her, and went on to the second sister, the one who lived in the silver palace, and with her also he stayed awhile. She told him that her brother Norka was then at her youngest sister’s. So he went on to the youngest sister, who lived in a golden palace. She told him that her brother was at that time asleep on the blue sea, and she gave him a sword of steel and a draught of the Water of Strength, and she told him to cut off her brother’s head at a single stroke. And when he had heard these things, he went his way.

And when the Prince came to the blue sea, he looked—there slept the Norka on a stone in the middle of the sea; and when it snored, the water was agitated for seven miles around. The Prince crossed himself, went up to it, and smote it on the head with his sword. The head jumped off, saying the while, ‘Well, I’m done for now!’ and rolled far away into the sea.

After killing the beast, the Prince went back again, picking up all the three sisters by the way, with the intention of taking them out into the upper world: for they all loved him and would not be separated from him. Each of them turned her palace into an egg—for they were all enchantresses—and they taught him how to turn the eggs into palaces, and back again, and they handed over the eggs to him. And then they all went to the place from which they had to be hoisted into the upper world. And when they came to where the rope was, the Prince took hold of it and made the maidens fast to it. Then he jerked away at the rope and his brothers began to haul it up. And when they had hauled it up, and had set eyes on the wondrous maidens, they went aside and said: ‘Let’s lower the rope, pull our brother part of the way up, and then cut the rope. Perhaps he’ll be killed; but then if he isn’t, he’ll never give us these beauties as wives.’

So when they had agreed on this, they lowered the rope. But their brother was no fool; he guessed what they were at, so he fastened the rope to a stone, and then gave it a pull. His brothers hoisted the stone to a great height, and then cut the rope. Down fell the stone and broke in pieces; the Prince poured forth tears and went away.

Well, he walked and walked. Presently a storm arose; the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, the rain fell in torrents. He went up to a tree in order to take shelter under it, and on that tree he saw some young birds which were being thoroughly drenched. So he took off his coat and covered them over with it, and he himself sat down under the tree. Presently there came flying a bird—such a big one that the light was blotted out by it. It had been dark there before, but now it became darker still. Now this was the mother of those small birds which the Prince had covered up. And when the bird had come flying up, she perceived that her little ones were covered over, and she said, ‘Who has wrapped up my nestlings?’ and presently, seeing the Prince, she added: ‘Did you do that? Thanks! In return, ask of me anything you desire. I will do anything for you.’

‘Then carry me into the other world,’ he replied.

‘Make me a large vessel with a partition in the middle,’ she said; ‘catch all sorts of game, and put them into one half of it, and into the other half pour water; so that there may be meat and drink for me.’

All this the Prince did. Then the bird—having taken the vessel on her back, with the Prince sitting in the middle of it—began to fly. And after flying some distance she brought him to his journey’s end, took leave of him, and flew away back. But he went to the house of a certain tailor, and engaged himself as his servant. So much the worse for wear was he, so thoroughly had he altered in appearance, that nobody would have suspected him of being a Prince.

Having entered into the service of this master, the Prince began to ask what was going on in that country. And his master replied: ‘Our two Princes—for the third one has disappeared—have brought away brides from the other world, and want to marry them, but those brides refuse. For they insist on having all their wedding-clothes made for them first, exactly like those which they used to have in the other world, and that without being measured for them. The King has called all the workmen together, but not one of them will undertake to do it.’

The Prince, having heard all this, said, ‘Go to the King, master, and tell him that you will provide everything that’s in your line.’

‘However can I undertake to make clothes of that sort? I work for quite common folks,’ says his master.

‘Go along, master! I will answer for everything,’ says the Prince.

So the tailor went. The King was delighted that at least one good workman had been found, and gave him as much money as ever he wanted. When his tailor had settled everything, he went home. And the Prince said to him:

‘Now then, pray to God, and lie down to sleep; to-morrow all will be ready.’ And the tailor followed his lad’s advice, and went to bed.

Midnight sounded. The Prince arose, went out of the city into the fields, took out of his pocket the eggs which the maidens had given him, and, as they had taught him, turned them into three palaces. Into each of these he entered, took the maidens’ robes, went out again, turned the palaces back into eggs, and went home. And when he got there he hung up the robes on the wall, and lay down to sleep.

Early in the morning his master awoke, and behold! there hung such robes as he had never seen before, all shining with gold and silver and precious stones. He was delighted, and he seized them and carried them off to the King. When the Princesses saw that the clothes were those which had been theirs in the other world, they guessed that Prince Ivan was in this world, so they exchanged glances with each other, but they held their peace. And the master, having handed over the clothes, went home, but he no longer found his dear journeyman there. For the Prince had gone to a shoemaker’s, and him too he sent to work for the King; and in the same way he went the round of all the artificers, and they all proffered him thanks, inasmuch as through him they were enriched by the King.

By the time the princely workman had gone the round of all the artificers, the Princesses had received what they had asked for; all their clothes were just like what they had been in the other world. Then they wept bitterly because the Prince had not come, and it was impossible for them to hold out any longer; it was necessary that they should be married. But when they were ready for the wedding, the youngest bride said to the King:

‘Allow me, my father, to go and give alms to the beggars.’

He gave her leave, and she went and began bestowing alms upon them, and examining them closely. And when she had come to one of them, and was going to give him some money, she caught sight of the ring which she had given to the Prince in the other world, and her sisters’ rings too—for it really was he. So she seized him by the hand, and brought him into the hall, and said to the King:

‘Here is he who brought us out of the other world. His brothers forbade us to say that he was alive, threatening to slay us if we did.’

Then the King was angry with those sons, and punished them as he thought best. And afterwards three weddings were celebrated.

FRENCH FAIRY TALES EDITED BY ANDREW LANG

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Independent Thinking, Individuality

1. In the story, the family did not have much faith in the youngest son that he could take on the Norka and other beasts. Do you think it is fair to call someone stupid? Why or why not?

2. The youngest prince was able to defend himself and win against the Norka as well as rescue princesses for himself and his brothers to marry. What qualities do you think he had that made it possible to do this?

The post The Norka first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and may contain violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand  if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there was a King who was so morose and disagreeable that he was feared by all his subjects, and with good reason, as for the most trifling offences he would have them punished. This King Grumpy, as he was called, had one son, who was as different from his father as he could possibly be. No prince equalled him in cleverness and kindness of heart, but unfortunately he was most terribly ugly. He had crooked legs and squinting eyes, a large mouth all on one side, and a hunchback. Never was there a beautiful soul in such a frightful little body, but in spite of his appearance everybody loved him. The Queen, his mother, called him Curlicue, because it was a name she rather liked, and it seemed to suit him.

King Grumpy, who cared a great deal more for his own grandeur than for his son’s happiness, wished to betroth the Prince to the daughter of a neighbouring King, whose great estates joined his own, for he thought that this alliance would make him more powerful than ever, and as for the Princess she would do very well for Prince Curlicue, for she was as ugly as himself. Indeed, though she was the most amiable creature in the world, there was no concealing the fact that she was frightful, and so lame that she always went about with a crutch, and people called her Princess Cabbage-Stalk.

The King, having asked for and received a portrait of this Princess, had it placed in his great hall under a canopy, and sent for Prince Curlicue, to whom he said that as this was the portrait of his future bride, he hoped the Prince found it charming.

The Prince after one glance at it turned away with a disdainful air, which greatly offended his father.

‘Am I to understand that you are not pleased?’ he said very sharply.

‘No, sire,’ replied the Prince. ‘How could I be pleased to marry an ugly, lame Princess?’

‘Certainly it is becoming in YOU to object to that,’ said King Grumpy, ‘since you are ugly enough to frighten anyone yourself.’

‘That is the very reason,’ said the Prince, ‘that I wish to marry someone who is not ugly. I am quite tired enough of seeing myself.’

‘I tell you that you shall marry her,’ cried King Grumpy angrily.

And the Prince, seeing that it was of no use to remonstrate, bowed and retired.

As King Grumpy was not used to being contradicted in anything, he was very much displeased with his son, and ordered that he should be imprisoned in the tower that was kept on purpose for rebellious Princes, but had not been used for about two hundred years, because there had not been any. The Prince thought all the rooms looked strangely old-fashioned, with their antique furniture, but as there was a good library he was pleased, for he was very fond of reading, and he soon got permission to have as many books as he liked. But when he looked at them he found that they were written in a forgotten language, and he could not understand a single word, though he amused himself with trying.

King Grumpy was so convinced that Prince Curlicue would soon get tired of being in prison, and so consent to marry the Princess Cabbage-Stalk, that he sent ambassadors to her father proposing that she should come and be married to his son, who would make her perfectly happy.

The King was delighted to receive so good an offer for his unlucky daughter, though, to tell the truth, he found it impossible to admire the Prince’s portrait which had been sent to him. However, he had it placed in as favourable a light as possible, and sent for the Princess, but the moment she caught sight of it she looked the other way and began to cry.

The King, who was very much annoyed to see how greatly she disliked it, took a mirror, and holding it up before the unhappy Princess, said:

‘I see you do not think the Prince handsome, but look at yourself, and see if you have any right to complain about that.’

‘Sire,’ she answered, ‘I do not wish to complain, only I beg of you do not make me marry at all. I had rather be the unhappy Princess Cabbage-Stalk all my life than inflict the sight of my ugliness on anyone else.’

But the King would not listen to her, and sent her away with the ambassadors.

In the meantime the Prince was kept safely locked up in his tower, and, that he might be as dull as possible, King Grumpy ordered that no one should speak to him, and that they should give him next to nothing to eat. But all the Prince’s guards were so fond of him that they did everything they dared, in spite of the King, to make the time pass pleasantly.

One day, as the Prince was walking up and down the great gallery, thinking how miserable it was to be so ugly, and to be forced to marry an equally frightful Princess, he looked up suddenly and noticed that the painted windows were particularly bright and beautiful, and for the sake of doing something that would change his sad thoughts he began to examine them attentively. He found that the pictures seemed to be scenes from the life of a man who appeared in every window, and the Prince, fancying that he saw in this man some resemblance to himself, began to be deeply interested. In the first window there was a picture of him in one of the turrets of the tower, farther on he was seeking something in a chink in the wall, in the next picture he was opening an old cabinet with a golden key, and so it went on through numbers of scenes, and presently the Prince noticed that another figure occupied the most important place in each scene, and this time it was a tall handsome young man: poor Prince Curlicue found it a pleasure to look at him, he was so straight and strong. By this time it had grown dark, and the Prince had to go back to his own room, and to amuse himself he took up a quaint old book and began to look at the pictures. But his surprise was great to find that they represented the same scenes as the windows of the gallery, and what was more, that they seemed to be alive. In looking at pictures of musicians he saw their hands move and heard sweet sounds; there was a picture of a ball, and the Prince could watch the little dancing people come and go.

He turned a page, and there was an excellent smell of a savoury dinner, and one of the figures who sat at the feast looked at him and said:

‘We drink your health, Curlicue. Try to give us our Queen again, for if you do you will be rewarded; if not, it will be the worse for you.’

At these words the Prince, who had been growing more and more astonished, was fairly terrified, and dropping the book with a crash he sank back insensible. The noise he made brought his guards to his aid, and as soon as he revived they asked him what was the matter. He answered that he was so faint and giddy with hunger that he had imagined he saw and heard all sorts of strange things. Thereupon, in spite of the King’s orders, the guards gave him an excellent supper, and when he had eaten it he again opened his book, but could see none of the wonderful pictures, which convinced him that he must have been dreaming before.

However, when he went into he gallery next day and looked at the painted windows again, he found that they moved, and the figures came and went as if they had been alive, and after watching the one who was like himself find the key in the crack of the turret wall and open the old cabinet, he determined to go and examine the place himself, and try to find out what the mystery was. So he went up into the turret and began to search about and tap upon the walls, and all at once he came upon a place that sounded hollow. Taking a hammer he broke away a bit of the stone, and found behind it a little golden key.

The next thing to do was to find the cabinet, and the Prince soon came to it, hidden away in a dark corner, though indeed it was so old and battered-looking that he would never have noticed it of his own accord. At first he could not see any keyhole, but after a careful search he found one hidden in the carving, and the golden key just fitted it; so the Prince gave it a vigorous turn and the doors flew open.

Ugly and old as the cabinet was outside, nothing could have been more rich and beautiful than what met the Prince’s astonished eyes. Every drawer was made of crystal, of amber, or of some precious stone, and was quite full of every kind of treasure.

Prince Curlicue was delighted; he opened one after another, until at last he came to one tiny drawer which contained only an emerald key.

‘I believe that this must open that little golden door in the middle,’ said the Prince to himself. And he fitted in the little key and turned it. The tiny door swung back, and a soft crimson light gleamed over the whole cabinet. The Prince found that it proceeded from an immense glowing carbuncle, made into a box, which lay before him. He lost no time in opening it, but what was his horror when he found that it contained a man’s hand, which was holding a portrait.

His first thought was to put back the terrible box and fly from the turret; but a voice in his ear said, ‘This hand belonged to one whom you can help and restore. Look at this beautiful portrait, the original of which was the cause of all my misfortunes, and if you wish to help me, go without a moment’s delay to the great gallery, notice where the sun’s rays fall most brightly, and if you seek there you will find my treasure.’

The voice ceased, and though the Prince in his bewilderment asked various questions, he received no answer. So he put back the box and locked the cabinet up again, and, having replaced the key in the crack in the wall, hastened down to the gallery.

When he entered it all the windows shook and clattered in the strangest way, but the Prince did not heed them; he was looking so carefully for the place where the sun shone most brightly, and it seemed to him that it was upon the portrait of a most splendidly handsome young man.

He went up and examined it, and found that it rested against the ebony and gold panelling, just like any of the other pictures in the gallery. He was puzzled, not knowing what to do next, until it occurred to him to see if the windows would help him, and, looking at the nearest, he saw a picture of himself lifting the picture from the wall.

The Prince took the hint, and lifting aside the picture without difficulty, found himself in a marble hall adorned with statues; from this he passed on through numbers of splendid rooms, until at last he reached one all hung with blue gauze. The walls were of turquoises, and upon a low couch lay a lovely lady, who seemed to be asleep. Her hair, black as ebony, was spread across the pillows, making her face look ivory white, and the Prince noticed that she was unquiet; and when he softly advanced, fearing to wake her, he could hear her sigh, and murmur to herself:

‘Ah! how dared you think to win my love by separating me from my beloved Florimond, and in my presence cutting off that dear hand that even you should have feared and honoured?’

And then the tears rolled slowly down the lovely lady’s cheeks, and Prince Curlicue began to comprehend that she was under an enchantment, and that it was the hand of her lover that he had found.

At this moment a huge Eagle flew into the room, holding in its talons a Golden Branch, upon which were growing what looked like clusters of cherries, only every cherry was a single glowing ruby. This he presented to the Prince, who guessed by this time that he was in some way to break the enchantment that surrounded the sleeping lady. Taking the branch he touched her lightly with it, saying:

‘Fair one, I know not by what enchantment thou art bound, but in the name of thy beloved Florimond I conjure thee to come back to the life which thou hast lost, but not forgotten.’

Instantly the lady opened her lustrous eyes, and saw the Eagle hovering near.

‘Ah! stay, dear love, stay,’ she cried. But the Eagle, uttering a dolorous cry, fluttered his broad wings and disappeared. Then the lady turned to Prince Curlicue, and said:

‘I know that it is to you I owe my deliverance from an enchantment which has held me for two hundred years. If there is anything that I can do for you in return, you have only to tell me, and all my fairy power shall be used to make you happy.’

‘Madam,’ said Prince Curlicue, ‘I wish to be allowed to restore your beloved Florimond to his natural form, since I cannot forget the tears you shed for him.’

‘That is very amiable of you, dear Prince,’ said the Fairy, ‘but it is reserved for another person to do that. I cannot explain more at present. But is there nothing you wish for yourself?’

‘Madam,’ cried the Prince, flinging himself down at her feet, ‘only look at my ugliness. I am called Curlicue, and am an object of derision; I entreat you to make me less ridiculous.’

‘Rise, Prince,’ said the Fairy, touching him with the Golden Branch. ‘Be as accomplished as you are handsome, and take the name of Prince Peerless, since that is the only title which will suit you now.’

Silent from joy, the Prince kissed her hand to express his thanks, and when he rose and saw his new reflection in the mirrors which surrounded him, he understood that Curlicue was indeed gone for ever.

‘How I wish,’ said the Fairy, ‘that I dared to tell you what is in store for you, and warn you of the traps which lie in your path, but I must not. Fly from the tower, Prince, and remember that the Fairy Douceline will be your friend always.’

When she had finished speaking, the Prince, to his great astonishment, found himself no longer in the tower, but set down in a thick forest at least a hundred leagues away from it. And there we must leave him for the present, and see what was happening elsewhere.

When the guards found that the Prince did not ask for his supper as usual, they went into his room, and not finding him there, were very much alarmed, and searched the tower from turret to dungeon, but without success. Knowing that the King would certainly have them punished for allowing the Prince to escape, they then agreed to say that he was ill, and after making the smallest among them look as much like Prince Curlicue as possible, they put him into his bed and sent to inform the King.

King Grumpy was quite delighted to hear that his son was ill, for he thought that he would all the sooner be brought to do as he wished, and marry the Princess. So he sent back to the guards to say that the Prince was to be treated as severely as before, which was just what they had hoped he would say. In the meantime the Princess Cabbage-Stalk had reached the palace, travelling in a litter.

King Grumpy went out to meet her, but when he saw her, with a skin like a tortoise’s, her thick eyebrows meeting above her large nose, and her mouth from ear to ear, he could not help crying out:

‘Well, I must say Curlicue is ugly enough, but I don’t think YOU need have thought twice before consenting to marry him.’

‘Sire,’ she replied, ‘I know too well what I am like to be hurt by what you say, but I assure you that I have no wish to marry your son I had rather be called Princess Cabbage-Stalk than Queen Curlicue.’

This made King Grumpy very angry.

‘Your father has sent you here to marry my son,’ he said, ‘and you may be sure that I am not going to offend him by altering his arrangements.’

So the poor Princess was sent away in disgrace to her own apartments, and the ladies who attended upon her were charged to bring her to a better mind.

At this juncture the guards, who were in great fear that they would be found out, sent to tell the King that his son was dead, which annoyed him very much. He at once made up his mind that it was entirely the Princess’s fault, and gave orders that she should be imprisoned in the tower in Prince Curlicue’s place. The Princess Cabbage-Stalk was immensely astonished at this unjust proceeding, and sent many messages of remonstrance to King Grumpy, but he was in such a temper that no one dared to deliver them, or to send the letters which the Princess wrote to her father. However, as she did not know this, she lived in hope of soon going back to her own country, and tried to amuse herself as well as she could until the time should come.

Every day she walked up and down the long gallery, until she too was attracted and fascinated by the ever-changing pictures in the windows, and recognised herself in one of the figures. ‘They seem to have taken a great delight in painting me since I came to this country,’ she said to herself. ‘One would think that I and my crutch were put in on purpose to make that slim, charming young shepherdess in the next picture look prettier by contrast. Ah! how nice it would be to be as pretty as that.’ And then she looked at herself in a mirror, and turned away quickly with tears in her eyes from the doleful sight.

All at once she became aware that she was not alone, for behind her stood a tiny old woman in a cap, who was as ugly again as herself and quite as lame.

‘Princess,’ she said, ‘your regrets are so piteous that I have come to offer you the choice of goodness or beauty. If you wish to be pretty you shall have your way, but you will also be vain, capricious, and frivolous. If you remain as you are now, you shall be wise and amiable and modest.’

‘Alas I madam,’ cried the Princess, ‘is it impossible to be at once wise and beautiful?’

‘No, child,’ answered the old woman, ‘only to you it is decreed that you must choose between the two. See, I have brought with me my white and yellow muff. Breathe upon the yellow side and you will become like the pretty shepherdess you so much admire, and you will have won the love of the handsome shepherd whose picture I have already seen you studying with interest. Breathe upon the white side and your looks will not alter, but you will grow better and happier day by day. Now you may choose.’

‘Ah well,’ said the Princess, ‘I suppose one can’t have everything, and it’s certainly better to be good than pretty.’

And so she breathed upon the white side of the muff and thanked the old fairy, who immediately disappeared.

The Princess Cabbage-Stalk felt very forlorn when she was gone, and began to think that it was quite time her father sent an army to rescue her.

‘If I could but get up into the turret,’ she thought, ‘to see if any one is coming.’ But to climb up there seemed impossible.

Nevertheless she presently hit upon a plan. The great clock was in the turret, as she knew, though the weights hung down into the gallery. Taking one of them off the rope, she tied herself on in its place, and when the clock was wound, up she went triumphantly into the turret. She looked out over the country the first thing, but seeing nothing she sat down to rest a little, and accidentally leant back against the wall which Curlicue, or rather Prince Peerless, had so hastily mended. Out fell the broken stone, and with it the golden key.

The clatter it made upon the floor attracted the Princess Cabbage-Stalk’s attention. She picked it up, and after a moment’s consideration decided that it must belong to the curious old cabinet in the corner, which had no visible keyhole. And then it was not long before she had it open, and was admiring the treasures it contained as much as Prince Peerless had done before her, and at last she came to the carbuncle box. No sooner had she opened it than with a shudder of horror she tried to throw it down, but found that some mysterious power compelled her to hold it against her will. And at this moment a voice in her ear said softly:

‘Take courage, Princess; upon this adventure your future happiness depends.’

‘What am I to do?’ said the Princess trembling.

‘Take the box,’ replied the voice, ‘and hide it under your pillow, and when you see an Eagle, give it to him without losing a moment.’

Terrified as the Princess was, she did not hesitate to obey, and hastened to put back all the other precious things precisely as she had found them. By this time her guards were seeking her everywhere, and they were amazed to find her up in the turret, for they said she could only have got there by magic. For three days nothing happened, but at last in the night the Princess heard something flutter against her window, and drawing back her curtains she saw in the moonlight that it was an Eagle.

Limping across at her utmost speed she threw the window open, and the great Eagle sailed in beating with his wings for joy. The Princess lost no time in offering it the carbuncle box, which it grasped in its talons, and instantly disappeared, leaving in its place the most beautiful Prince she had ever seen, who was splendidly dressed, and wore a diamond crown.

‘Princess,’ said he, ‘for two hundred years has a wicked enchanter kept me here. We both loved the same Fairy, but she preferred me. However, he was more powerful than I, and succeeded, when for a moment I was off my guard, in changing me into an Eagle, while my Queen was left in an enchanted sleep. I knew that after two hundred years a Prince would recall her to the light of day, and a Princess, in restoring to me the hand which my enemy had cut off, would give me back my natural form. The Fairy who watches over your destiny told me this, and it was she who guided you to the cabinet in the turret, where she had placed my hand. It is she also who permits me to show my gratitude to you by granting whatever favour you may ask of me. Tell me, Princess, what is it that you wish for most? Shall I make you as beautiful as you deserve to be?’

‘Ah, if you only would!’ cried the Princess, and at the same moment she heard a crick-cracking in all her bones. She grew tall and straight and pretty, with eyes like shining stars, and skin as smooth as silk.

‘Oh, wonderful! can this really be my poor little self?’ she exclaimed, looking down in amazement at her tiny worn-out crutch as it lay upon the floor.

‘Indeed, Princess,’ replied Florimond, ‘it is yourself, but you must have a new name, since the old one does not suit you now. Be called Princess Sunbeam, for you are bright and charming enough to deserve the name.’

And so saying he disappeared, and the Princess, without knowing how she got there, found herself walking under shady trees by a clear river. Of course, the first thing she did was to look at her own reflection in the water, and she was extremely surprised to find that she was exactly like the shepherdess she had so much admired, and wore the same white dress and flowery wreath that she had seen in the painted windows. To complete the resemblance, her flock of sheep appeared, grazing round her, and she found a gay crook adorned with flowers upon the bank of the river. Quite tired out by so many new and wonderful experiences, the Princess sat down to rest at the foot of a tree, and there she fell fast asleep.

Now it happened that it was in this very country that Prince Peerless had been set down, and while the Princess Sunbeam was still sleeping peacefully, he came strolling along in search of a shady pasture for his sheep.

The moment he caught sight of the Princess he recognised her as the charming shepherdess whose picture he had seen so often in the tower, and as she was far prettier than he had remembered her, he was delighted that chance had led him that way.

He was still watching her admiringly when the Princess opened her eyes, and as she also recognised him they were soon great friends. The Princess asked Prince Peerless, as he knew the country better than she did, to tell her of some peasant who would give her a lodging, and he said he knew of an old woman whose cottage would be the very place for her, it was so nice and so pretty. So they went there together, and the Princess was charmed with the old woman and everything belonging to her.

Supper was soon spread for her under a shady tree, and she invited the Prince to share the cream and brown bread which the old woman provided. This he was delighted to do, and having first fetched from his own garden all the strawberries, cherries, nuts and flowers he could find. They sat down together and were very merry. After this they met every day as they guarded their flocks, and were so happy that Prince Peerless begged the Princess to marry him, so that they might never be parted again.

Now though the Princess Sunbeam appeared to be only a poor shepherdess, she never forgot that she was a real Princess, and she was not at all sure that she ought to marry a humble shepherd, though she knew she would like to do so very much.
So she resolved to consult an Enchanter of whom she had heard a great deal since she had been a shepherdess, and without saying a word to anybody she set out to find the castle in which he lived with his sister, who was a powerful Fairy. The way was long, and lay through a thick wood, where the Princess heard strange voices calling to her from every side, but she was in such a hurry that she stopped for nothing, and at last she came to the courtyard of the Enchanter’s castle.

The grass and briers were growing as high as if it were a hundred years since anyone had set foot there, but the Princess got through at last, though she gave herself a good many scratches by the way, and then she went into a dark, gloomy hall, where there was but one tiny hole in the wall through which the daylight could enter. The hangings were all of bats’ wings, and from the ceiling hung twelve cats, who filled the hall with their ear piercing yells. Upon the long table twelve mice were fastened by the tail, and just in front of each one’s nose, but quite beyond its reach, lay a tempting morsel of fat bacon. So the cats could always see the mice, but could not touch them, and the hungry mice were tormented by the sight and smell of the delicious morsels which they could never seize.

The Princess was looking at the poor creatures in dismay, when the Enchanter suddenly entered, wearing a long black robe and with a crocodile upon his head. In his hand he carried a whip made of twenty long snakes, all alive and writhing, and the Princess was so terrified at the sight that she heartily wished she had never come. Without saying a word she ran to the door, but it was covered with a thick spider’s web, and when she broke it she found another, and another, and another. In fact, there was no end to them; the Princess’s arms ached with tearing them down, and yet she was no nearer to getting out, and the wicked Enchanter behind her laughed maliciously. At last he said:

‘You might spend the rest of your life over that without doing any good, but as you are young, and quite the prettiest creature I have seen for a long time, I will marry you if you like, and I will give you those cats and mice that you see there for your own. They are princes and princesses who have happened to offend me. They used to love one another as much as they now hate one another. Aha! It’s a pretty little revenge to keep them like that.’

‘Oh! If you would only change me into a mouse too,’ cried the Princess.

‘Oh! so you won’t marry me?’ said he. ‘Little simpleton, you should have everything heart can desire.’

‘No, indeed; nothing should make me marry you; in fact, I don’t think I shall ever love anyone,’ cried the Princess.

‘In that case,’ said the Enchanter, touching her, ‘you had better become a particular kind of creature that is neither fish nor fowl; you shall be light and airy, and as green as the grass you live in. Off with you, Madam Grasshopper.’ And the Princess, rejoicing to find herself free once more, skipped out into the garden, the prettiest little green Grasshopper in the world.

But as soon as she was safely out she began to be rather sorry for herself. ‘Ah! Florimond,’ she sighed, ‘is this the end of your gift? Certainly beauty is short-lived, and this funny little face and a green crape dress are a comical end to it. I had better have married my amiable shepherd. It must be for my pride that I am condemned to be a Grasshopper, and sing day and night in the grass by this brook, when I feel far more inclined to cry.’

In the meantime Prince Peerless had discovered the Princess’s absence, and was lamenting over it by the river’s brim, when he suddenly became aware of the presence of a little old woman. She was quaintly dressed in a ruff and farthingale, and a velvet hood covered her snow-white hair.

‘You seem sorrowful, my son,’ she said. ‘What is the matter?’

‘Alas! mother,’ answered the Prince, ‘I have lost my sweet shepherdess, but I am determined to find her again, though I should have to traverse the whole world in search of her.’

‘Go that way, my son,’ said the old woman, pointing towards the path that led to the castle. ‘I have an idea that you will soon overtake her.’

The Prince thanked her heartily and set out. As he met with no hindrance, he soon reached the enchanted wood which surrounded the castle, and there he thought he saw the Princess Sunbeam gliding before him among the trees. Prince Peerless hastened after her at the top of his speed, but could not get any nearer; then he called to her:

‘Sunbeam, my darling—only wait for me a moment.’

But the phantom did but fly the faster, and the Prince spent the whole day in this vain pursuit. When night came he saw the castle before him all lighted up, and as he imagined that the Princess must be in it, he made haste to get there too. He entered without difficulty, and in the hall the terrible old Fairy met him. She was so thin that the light shone through her, and her eyes glowed like lamps; her skin was like a shark’s, her arms were thin as laths, and her fingers like spindles. Nevertheless she wore rouge and patches, a mantle of silver brocade and a crown of diamonds, and her dress was covered with jewels, and green and pink ribbons.

‘At last you have come to see me, Prince,’ said she. ‘Don’t waste another thought upon that little shepherdess, who is unworthy of your notice. I am the Queen of the Comets, and can bring you to great honour if you will marry me.’

‘Marry you, Madam,’ cried the Prince, in horror. ‘No, I will never consent to that.’

Thereupon the Fairy, in a rage, gave two strokes of her wand and filled the gallery with horrible goblins, against whom the Prince had to fight for his life. Though he had only his dagger, he defended himself so well that he escaped without any harm, and presently the old Fairy stopped the fray and asked the Prince if he was still of the same mind. When he answered firmly that he was, she called up the appearance of the Princess Sunbeam to the other end of the gallery, and said:

‘You see your beloved there? Take care what you are about, for if you again refuse to marry me she shall be torn in pieces by two tigers.’

The Prince was distracted, for he fancied he heard his dear shepherdess weeping and begging him to save her. In despair he cried:

‘Oh, Fairy Douceline, have you abandoned me after so many promises of friendship? Help, help us now!’

Immediately a soft voice said in his ear:

‘Be firm, happen what may, and seek the Golden Branch.’

Thus encouraged, the Prince persevered in his refusal, and at length the old Fairy in a fury cried:

‘Get out of my sight, obstinate Prince. Become a Cricket!’

And instantly the handsome Prince Peerless became a poor little black Cricket, whose only idea would have been to find himself a cosy cranny behind some blazing hearth, if he had not luckily remembered the Fairy Douceline’s injunction to seek the Golden Branch.

So he hastened to depart from the fatal castle, and sought shelter in a hollow tree, where he found a forlorn looking little Grasshopper crouching in a corner, too miserable to sing.

Without in the least expecting an answer, the Prince asked it:

‘And where may you be going, Gammer Grasshopper?’

‘Where are you going yourself, Gaffer Cricket?’ replied the Grasshopper.

‘What! can you speak?’ said he.

‘Why should I not speak as well as you? Isn’t a Grasshopper as good as a Cricket?’ said she.

‘I can talk because I was a Prince,’ said the Cricket.

‘And for that very same reason I ought to be able to talk more than you, for I was a Princess,’ replied the Grasshopper.

‘Then you have met with the same fate as I have,’ said he. ‘But where are you going now? Cannot we journey together?’

‘I seemed to hear a voice in the air which said: “Be firm, happen what may, and seek the Golden Branch,”’ answered the Grasshopper, ‘and I thought the command must be for me, so I started at once, though I don’t know the way.’

At this moment their conversation was interrupted by two mice, who, breathless from running, flung themselves headlong through the hole into the tree, nearly crushing the Grasshopper and the Cricket, though they got out of the way as fast as they could and stood up in a dark corner.

‘Ah, Madam,’ said the fatter of the two, ‘I have such a pain in my side from running so fast. How does your Highness find yourself?’

‘I have pulled my tail off,’ replied the younger Mouse, ‘but as I should still be on the sorcerer’s table unless I had, I do not regret it. Are we pursued, think you? How lucky we were to escape!’

‘I only trust that we may escape cats and traps, and reach the Golden Branch soon,’ said the fat Mouse.

‘You know the way then?’ said the other.

‘Oh dear, yes! as well as the way to my own house, Madam. This Golden Branch is indeed a marvel, a single leaf from it makes one rich for ever. It breaks enchantments, and makes all who approach it young and beautiful. We must set out for it at the break of day.’

‘May we have the honour of travelling with you—this respectable Cricket and myself?’ said the Grasshopper, stepping forward. ‘We also are on a pilgrimage to the Golden Branch.’

The Mice courteously assented, and after many polite speeches the whole party fell asleep. With the earliest dawn they were on their way, and though the Mice were in constant fear of being overtaken or trapped, they reached the Golden Branch in safety.

It grew in the midst of a wonderful garden, all the paths of which were strewn with pearls as big as peas. The roses were crimson diamonds, with emerald leaves. The pomegranates were garnets, the marigolds topazes, the daffodils yellow diamonds, the violets sapphires, the corn-flowers turquoises, the tulips amethysts, opals and diamonds, so that the garden borders blazed like the sun. The Golden Branch itself had become as tall as a forest tree, and sparkled with ruby cherries to its topmost twig.

No sooner had the Grasshopper and the Cricket touched it than they were restored to their natural forms, and their surprise and joy were great when they recognised each other. At this moment Florimond and the Fairy Douceline appeared in great splendour, and the Fairy, as she descended from her chariot, said with a smile:

‘So you two have found one another again, I see, but I have still a surprise left for you. Don’t hesitate, Princess, to tell your devoted shepherd how dearly you love him, as he is the very Prince your father sent you to marry. So come here both of you and let me crown you, and we will have the wedding at once.’

The Prince and Princess thanked her with all their hearts, and declared that to her they owed all their happiness, and then the two Princesses, who had so lately been Mice, came and begged that the Fairy would use her power to release their unhappy friends who were still under the Enchanter’s spell.

‘Really,’ said the Fairy Douceline, ‘on this happy occasion I cannot find it in my heart to refuse you anything.’ And she gave three strokes of her wand upon the Golden Branch, and immediately all the prisoners in the Enchanter’s castle found themselves free, and came with all speed to the wonderful garden, where one touch of the Golden Branch restored each one to his natural form, and they greeted one another with many rejoicings. To complete her generous work the Fairy presented them with the wonderful cabinet and all the treasures it contained, which were worth at least ten kingdoms. But to Prince Peerless and the Princess Sunbeam she gave the palace and garden of the Golden Branch, where, immensely rich and greatly beloved by all their subjects, they lived happily ever after.

FRENCH FAIRY TALES BY COUNTESS D’AULNOY

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Beauty

1. The Prince Curlicue and Princess Cabbage-Stalk are perceived as ugly because they look a certain way to the people around them. But everyone agrees that they are beautiful inside. Do you think it is possible to be ugly if you are beautiful inside?

2. What do you think it means to be beautiful?

3. Princess Cabbage-Stalk is given the choice to be beautiful on the outside, but ugly inside, or to remain as she is. What would you have chosen if you were the Princess Cabbage-Stalk? Why?

The post The Golden Branch first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Once upon a time there lived a King who had three daughters. Now it happened that he had to go out to battle, so he called his daughters and said to them:

‘My dear children, I am obliged to go to war. The enemy is approaching us with a large army. It is a great grief to me to leave you all. During my absence take care of yourselves and be good girls; behave well and look after everything in the house. You may walk in the garden, and you may go into all the rooms in the palace, except the room at the back in the right-hand corner; into that you must not enter, for harm would befall you.’

‘You may keep your mind easy, father,’ they replied. ‘We have never been disobedient to you. Go in peace, and may heaven give you a glorious victory!’

When everything was ready for his departure, the King gave them the keys of all the rooms and reminded them once more of what he had said. His daughters kissed his hands with tears in their eyes, and wished him prosperity, and he gave the eldest the keys.

Now when the girls found themselves alone they felt so sad and dull that they did not know what to do. So, to pass the time, they decided to work for part of the day, to read for part of the day, and to enjoy themselves in the garden for part of the day. As long as they did this all went well with them. But this happy state of things did not last long. Every day they grew more and more curious, and you will see what the end of that was.

‘Sisters,’ said the eldest Princess, ‘all day long we sew, spin, and read. We have been several days quite alone, and there is no corner of the garden that we have not explored. We have been in all the rooms of our father’s palace, and have admired the rich and beautiful furniture: why should not we go into the room that our father forbad us to enter?’

‘Sister,’ said the youngest, ‘I cannot think how you can tempt us to break our father’s command. When he told us not to go into that room he must have known what he was saying, and have had a good reason for saying it.’

‘Surely the sky won’t fall about our heads if we DO go in,’ said the second Princess. ‘Dragons and such like monsters that would devour us will not be hidden in the room. And how will our father ever find out that we have gone in?’

While they were speaking thus, encouraging each other, they had reached the room; the eldest fitted the key into the lock, and snap! the door stood open.

The three girls entered, and what do you think they saw?

The room was quite empty, and without any ornament, but in the middle stood a large table, with a gorgeous cloth, and on it lay a big open book.

Now the Princesses were curious to know what was written in the book, especially the eldest, and this is what she read:

‘The eldest daughter of this King will marry a prince from the East.’

Then the second girl stepped forward, and turning over the page she read:

‘The second daughter of this King will marry a prince from the West.’

The girls were delighted, and laughed and teased each other.

But the youngest Princess did not want to go near the table or to open the book. Her elder sisters however left her no peace, and will she, nill she, they dragged her up to the table, and in fear and trembling she turned over the page and read:

‘The youngest daughter of this King will be married to a pig from the North.’

Now if a thunderbolt had fallen upon her from heaven it would not have frightened her more. She almost died of misery, and if her sisters had not held her up, she would have sunk to the ground and cut her head open.

When she came out of the fainting fit into which she had fallen in her terror, her sisters tried to comfort her, saying:

‘How can you believe such nonsense? When did it ever happen that a king’s daughter married a pig?’

‘What a baby you are!’ said the other sister; ‘has not our father enough soldiers to protect you, even if the disgusting creature did come to woo you?’

The youngest Princess would fain have let herself be convinced by her sisters’ words, and have believed what they said, but her heart was heavy. Her thoughts kept turning to the book, in which stood written that great happiness waited her sisters, but that a fate was in store for her such as had never before been known in the world.

Besides, the thought weighed on her heart that she had been guilty of disobeying her father. She began to get quite ill, and in a few days she was so changed that it was difficult to recognise her; formerly she had been rosy and merry, now she was pale and nothing gave her any pleasure. She gave up playing with her sisters in the garden, ceased to gather flowers to put in her hair, and never sang when they sat together at their spinning and sewing.

In the meantime the King won a great victory, and having completely defeated and driven off the enemy, he hurried home to his daughters, to whom his thoughts had constantly turned. Everyone went out to meet him with cymbals and fifes and drums, and there was great rejoicing over his victorious return. The King’s first act on reaching home was to thank Heaven for the victory he had gained over the enemies who had risen against him. He then entered his palace, and the three Princesses stepped forward to meet him. His joy was great when he saw that they were all well, for the youngest did her best not to appear sad.

In spite of this, however, it was not long before the King noticed that his third daughter was getting very thin and sad-looking. And all of a sudden he felt as if a hot iron were entering his soul, for it flashed through his mind that she had disobeyed his word. He felt sure he was right; but to be quite certain he called his daughters to him, questioned them, and ordered them to speak the truth. They confessed everything, but took good care not to say which had led the other two into temptation.

The King was so distressed when he heard it that he was almost overcome by grief. But he took heart and tried to comfort his daughters, who looked frightened to death. He saw that what had happened had happened, and that a thousand words would not alter matters by a hair’s-breadth.

Well, these events had almost been forgotten when one fine day a prince from the East appeared at the Court and asked the King for the hand of his eldest daughter. The King gladly gave his consent. A great wedding banquet was prepared, and after three days of feasting the happy pair were accompanied to the frontier with much ceremony and rejoicing.

After some time the same thing befell the second daughter, who was wooed and won by a prince from the West.

Now when the young Princess saw that everything fell out exactly as had been written in the book, she grew very sad. She refused to eat, and would not put on her fine clothes nor go out walking, and declared that she would rather die than become a laughing-stock to the world. But the King would not allow her to do anything so wrong, and he comforted her in all possible ways.

So the time passed, till lo and behold! one fine day an enormous pig from the North walked into the palace, and going straight up to the King said, ‘Hail! oh King. May your life be as prosperous and bright as sunrise on a clear day!’

‘I am glad to see you well, friend,’ answered the King, ‘but what wind has brought you hither?’

‘I come a-wooing,’ replied the Pig.

Now the King was astonished to hear so fine a speech from a Pig, and at once it occurred to him that something strange was the matter. He would gladly have turned the Pig’s thoughts in another direction, as he did not wish to give him the Princess for a wife; but when he heard that the Court and the whole street were full of all the pigs in the world he saw that there was no escape, and that he must give his consent. The Pig was not satisfied with mere promises, but insisted that the wedding should take place within a week, and would not go away till the King had sworn a royal oath upon it.

The King then sent for his daughter, and advised her to submit to fate, as there was nothing else to be done. And he added:

‘My child, the words and whole behaviour of this Pig are quite unlike those of other pigs. I do not myself believe that he always was a pig. Depend upon it some magic or witchcraft has been at work. Obey him, and do everything that he wishes, and I feel sure that Heaven will shortly send you release.’

‘If you wish me to do this, dear father, I will do it,’ replied the girl.

In the meantime the wedding-day drew near. After the marriage, the Pig and his bride set out for his home in one of the royal carriages. On the way they passed a great bog, and the Pig ordered the carriage to stop, and got out and rolled about in the mire till he was covered with mud from head to foot; then he got back into the carriage and told his wife to kiss him. What was the poor girl to do? She bethought herself of her father’s words, and, pulling out her pocket handkerchief, she gently wiped the Pig’s snout and kissed it.

By the time they reached the Pig’s dwelling, which stood in a thick wood, it was quite dark. They sat down quietly for a little, as they were tired after their drive; then they had supper together, and lay down to rest. During the night the Princess noticed that the Pig had changed into a man. She was not a little surprised, but remembering her father’s words, she took courage, determined to wait and see what would happen.

And now she noticed that every night the Pig became a man, and every morning he was changed into a Pig before she awoke. This happened several nights running, and the Princess could not understand it at all. Clearly her husband must be bewitched. In time she grew quite fond of him, he was so kind and gentle.

One fine day as she was sitting alone she saw an old witch go past. She felt quite excited, as it was so long since she had seen a human being, and she called out to the old woman to come and talk to her. Among other things the witch told her that she understood all magic arts, and that she could foretell the future, and knew the healing powers of herbs and plants.

‘I shall be grateful to you all my life, old dame,’ said the Princess, ‘if you will tell me what is the matter with my husband. Why is he a Pig by day and a human being by night?’

‘I was just going to tell you that one thing, my dear, to show you what a good fortune-teller I am. If you like, I will give you a herb to break the spell.’

‘If you will only give it to me,’ said the Princess, ‘I will give you anything you choose to ask for, for I cannot bear to see him in this state.’

‘Here, then, my dear child,’ said the witch, ‘take this thread, but do not let him know about it, for if he did it would lose its healing power. At night, when he is asleep, you must get up very quietly, and fasten the thread round his left foot as firmly as possible; and you will see in the morning he will not have changed back into a Pig, but will still be a man. I do not want any reward. I shall be sufficiently repaid by knowing that you are happy. It almost breaks my heart to think of all you have suffered, and I only wish I had known it sooner, as I should have come to your rescue at once.’

When the old witch had gone away the Princess hid the thread very carefully, and at night she got up quietly, and with a beating heart she bound the thread round her husband’s foot. Just as she was pulling the knot tight there was a crack, and the thread broke, for it was rotten.
Her husband awoke with a start, and said to her, ‘Unhappy woman, what have you done? Three days more and this unholy spell would have fallen from me, and now, who knows how long I may have to go about in this disgusting shape? I must leave you at once, and we shall not meet again until you have worn out three pairs of iron shoes and blunted a steel staff in your search for me.’ So saying he disappeared.

Now, when the Princess was left alone she began to weep and moan in a way that was pitiful to hear; but when she saw that her tears and groans did her no good, she got up, determined to go wherever fate should lead her.

On reaching a town, the first thing she did was to order three pairs of iron sandals and a steel staff, and having made these preparations for her journey, she set out in search of her husband. On and on she wandered over nine seas and across nine continents; through forests with trees whose stems were as thick as beer-barrels; stumbling and knocking herself against the fallen branches, then picking herself up and going on; the boughs of the trees hit her face, and the shrubs tore her hands, but on she went, and never looked back. At last, wearied with her long journey and worn out and overcome with sorrow, but still with hope at her heart, she reached a house.

Now who do you think lived there? The Moon.

The Princess knocked at the door, and begged to be let in that she might rest a little. The mother of the Moon, when she saw her sad plight, felt a great pity for her, and took her in and nursed and tended her. And while she was here the Princess had a little baby.

One day the mother of the Moon asked her:

‘How was it possible for you, a mortal, to get hither to the house of the Moon?’

Then the poor Princess told her all that happened to her, and added ‘I shall always be thankful to Heaven for leading me hither, and grateful to you that you took pity on me and on my baby, and did not leave us to die. Now I beg one last favour of you; can your daughter, the Moon, tell me where my husband is?’

‘She cannot tell you that, my child,’ replied the goddess, ‘but, if you will travel towards the East until you reach the dwelling of the Sun, he may be able to tell you something.’

Then she gave the Princess a roast chicken to eat, and warned her to be very careful not to lose any of the bones, because they might be of great use to her.

When the Princess had thanked her once more for her hospitality and for her good advice, and had thrown away one pair of shoes that were worn out, and had put on a second pair, she tied up the chicken bones in a bundle, and taking her baby in her arms and her staff in her hand, she set out once more on her wanderings.

On and on and on she went across bare sandy deserts, where the roads were so heavy that for every two steps that she took forwards she fell back one; but she struggled on till she had passed these dreary plains; next she crossed high rocky mountains, jumping from crag to crag and from peak to peak. Sometimes she would rest for a little on a mountain, and then start afresh always farther and farther on. She had to cross swamps and to scale mountain peaks covered with flints, so that her feet and knees and elbows were all torn and bleeding, and sometimes she came to a precipice across which she could not jump, and she had to crawl round on hands and knees, helping herself along with her staff. At length, wearied to death, she reached the palace in which the Sun lived. She knocked and begged for admission.

The mother of the Sun opened the door, and was astonished at beholding a mortal from the distant earthly shores, and wept with pity when she heard of all she had suffered. Then, having promised to ask her son about the Princess’s husband, she hid her in the cellar, so that the Sun might notice nothing on his return home, for he was always in a bad temper when he came in at night. The next day the Princess feared that things would not go well with her, for the Sun had noticed that some one from the other world had been in the palace. But his mother had soothed him with soft words, assuring him that this was not so. So the Princess took heart when she saw how kindly she was treated, and asked:

‘But how in the world is it possible for the Sun to be angry? He is so beautiful and so good to mortals.’

‘This is how it happens,’ replied the Sun’s mother. ‘In the morning when he stands at the gates of paradise he is happy, and smiles on the whole world, but during the day he gets cross, because he sees all the evil deeds of men, and that is why his heat becomes so scorching; but in the evening he is both sad and angry, for he stands at the gates of death; that is his usual course. From there he comes back here.’

She then told the Princess that she had asked about her husband, but that her son had replied that he knew nothing about him, and that her only hope was to go and inquire of the Wind.

Before the Princess left the mother of the Sun gave her a roast chicken to eat, and advised her to take great care of the bones, which she did, wrapping them up in a bundle. She then threw away her second pair of shoes, which were quite worn out, and with her child on her arm and her staff in her hand, she set forth on her way to the Wind.

In these wanderings she met with even greater difficulties than before, for she came upon one mountain of flints after another, out of which tongues of fire would flame up; she passed through woods which had never been trodden by human foot, and had to cross fields of ice and avalanches of snow. The poor woman nearly died of these hardships, but she kept a brave heart, and at length she reached an enormous cave in the side of a mountain. This was where the Wind lived. There was a little door in the railing in front of the cave, and here the Princess knocked and begged for admission. The mother of the Wind had pity on her and took her in, that she might rest a little. Here too she was hidden away, so that the Wind might not notice her.

The next morning the mother of the Wind told her that her husband was living in a thick wood, so thick that no axe had been able to cut a way through it; here he had built himself a sort of house by placing trunks of trees together and fastening them with withes and here he lived alone, shunning human kind.

After the mother of the Wind had given the Princess a chicken to eat, and had warned her to take care of the bones, she advised her to go by the Milky Way, which at night lies across the sky, and to wander on till she reached her goal.

Having thanked the old woman with tears in her eyes for her hospitality, and for the good news she had given her, the Princess set out on her journey and rested neither night nor day, so great was her longing to see her husband again. On and on she walked until her last pair of shoes fell in pieces. So she threw them away and went on with bare feet, not heeding the bogs nor the thorns that wounded her, nor the stones that bruised her. At last she reached a beautiful green meadow on the edge of a wood. Her heart was cheered by the sight of the flowers and the soft cool grass, and she sat down and rested for a little. But hearing the birds chirping to their mates among the trees made her think with longing of her husband, and she wept bitterly, and taking her child in her arms, and her bundle of chicken bones on her shoulder, she entered the wood.

For three days and three nights she struggled through it, but could find nothing. She was quite worn out with weariness and hunger, and even her staff was no further help to her, for in her many wanderings it had become quite blunted. She almost gave up in despair, but made one last great effort, and suddenly in a thicket she came upon the sort of house that the mother of the Wind had described. It had no windows, and the door was up in the roof. Round the house she went, in search of steps, but could find none. What was she to do? How was she to get in? She thought and thought, and tried in vain to climb up to the door. Then suddenly she be-thought her of the chicken bones that she had dragged all that weary way, and she said to herself: ‘They would not all have told me to take such good care of these bones if they had not had some good reason for doing so. Perhaps now, in my hour of need, they may be of use to me.’

So she took the bones out of her bundle, and having thought for a moment, she placed the two ends together. To her surprise they stuck tight; then she added the other bones, till she had two long poles the height of the house; these she placed against the wall, at a distance of a yard from one another. Across them she placed the other bones, piece by piece, like the steps of a ladder. As soon as one step was finished she stood upon it and made the next one, and then the next, till she was close to the door. But just as she got near the top she noticed that there were no bones left for the last rung of the ladder. What was she to do? Without that last step the whole ladder was useless. She must have lost one of the bones. Then suddenly an idea came to her. Taking a knife she chopped off her little finger, and placing it on the last step, it stuck as the bones had done. The ladder was complete, and with her child on her arm she entered the door of the house. Here she found everything in perfect order. Having taken some food, she laid the child down to sleep in a trough that was on the floor, and sat down herself to rest.

When her husband, the Pig, came back to his house, he was startled by what he saw. At first he could not believe his eyes, and stared at the ladder of bones, and at the little finger on the top of it. He felt that some fresh magic must be at work, and in his terror he almost turned away from the house; but then a better idea came to him, and he changed himself into a dove, so that no witchcraft could have power over him, and flew into the room without touching the ladder. Here he found a woman rocking a child. At the sight of her, looking so changed by all that she had suffered for his sake, his heart was moved by such love and longing and by so great a pity that he suddenly became a man.

The Princess stood up when she saw him, and her heart beat with fear, for she did not know him. But when he had told her who he was, in her great joy she forgot all her sufferings, and they seemed as nothing to her. He was a very handsome man, as straight as a fir tree. They sat down together and she told him all her adventures, and he wept with pity at the tale. And then he told her his own history.

‘I am a King’s son. Once when my father was fighting against some dragons, who were the scourge of our country, I slew the youngest dragon. His mother, who was a witch, cast a spell over me and changed me into a Pig. It was she who in the disguise of an old woman gave you the thread to bind round my foot. So that instead of the three days that had to run before the spell was broken, I was forced to remain a Pig for three more years. Now that we have suffered for each other, and have found each other again, let us forget the past.’

And in their joy they kissed one another.

Next morning they set out early to return to his father’s kingdom. Great was the rejoicing of all the people when they saw him and his wife; his father and his mother embraced them both, and there was feasting in the palace for three days and three nights.

Then they set out to see her father. The old King nearly went out of his mind with joy at beholding his daughter again. When she had told him all her adventures, he said to her:

‘Did not I tell you that I was quite sure that that creature who wooed and won you as his wife had not been born a Pig? You see, my child, how wise you were in doing what I told you.’

And as the King was old and had no heirs, he put them on the throne in his place. And they ruled as only kings rule who have suffered many things. And if they are not dead they are still living and ruling happily.

FRENCH FAIRY TALES EDITED BY ANDREW LANG

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Love, Gratitude

1. In the story, the youngest daughter could see the wonderful side of the pig and did anything to save him because she loved him. What are some things that you notice people do when they love someone?

2. The daughter was very appreciative of the help the Sun gave her, and the Sun looked after her because she was grateful. Why do you think it is important to be thankful for the things that people do for us?

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