As soon as the old woman had recovered from her first alarm, she was greatly troubled how to escape the wrath of the count. They had still to traverse a considerable portion of the forest. So she sent the servants who had not perceived the occurrence, under some pretext, to a village at some distance, and during theirabsence she covered her own daughter with Emma's veil. On their return they found the old woman in the greatest distress; she wrung her hands, and related with well simulated despair, that having gone with her daughter only a few steps from the carriage, armed men had surprised them, and carried off her Adelheid.
The count's servants, deceived by the despairing words and gestures of the old woman, searched the forest, in hopes of tracing the robbers, but as was to be expected, without success. Meanwhile Jutta instructed her daughter in the part she was to play, in order that she in Emma's place might become the count's wife. And as she feared she might not be able to conceal the cheat from Henry, she desired the servants not to go through Prague, but to take the direct road to the count's castle.
When they arrived, Jutta descended alone from the carriage, carefully closed it again, and besought the count, that until her niece had entirely recovered from the fatigue of the journey, he would permit them both to occupy a chamber from which all daylight could be excluded, and she forbade at first any visit from the bridegroom. Impatient as the latter was to see his bride, he yet submitted to this delay which the oldwoman so earnestly requested of him. The most splendid apartments were now thrown open to the mother and daughter, and the most inner chamber of the suite was so hung with curtains that no daylight could penetrate. In this room dwelt Jutta with her daughter, and even Henry, who came to visit his supposed sister, was, under pretext of her being indisposed, not allowed to enter. As his aunt, however, provided him with plenty of money, and the merry life in Prague pleased him better than the retirement of the country, he soon returned thither.
The count, whom Jutta put off from day to day under various pretexts from visiting his bride, at length lost patience, and would not be longer withheld by the gold and pearls which Jutta continually brought him; he forced his way into the chamber, and clasped Adelheid in his arms.
Although the count could not but remark that Adelheid in no degree corresponded to the description her brother had given of her, he was still prepared to fulfil his word, and was therefore married, though with the greatest privacy, to the false bride. Very shortly, he became aware that neither her heart nor mind possessed the excellence that had been represented tohim; and in consequence of this discovery, when he next met his brother-in-law, he overwhelmed him with reproaches. The contemptuous expressions which the count used respecting his bride, whom Henry had only known as the loveliest and most amiable maiden in all Bohemia, so incensed Henry, that he forgot all the consideration due to the rich and powerful man, and the count, who, besides this, believed himself to have been deceived by Henry, caused him to be seized, brought to his castle, and thrown into a deep dungeon.
The wife of the count, who was also most severely punished for the crime in which she had taken part, overwhelmed her mother with the bitterest reproaches. More than once she was on the point of confessing the fraud to her husband, but he drove her from him, and would not listen to her.
Whilst these women were thus suffering for their crime, Henry sat in his dungeon, hopeless of ever recovering his freedom, or of being able to take vengeance on him who had so unjustly treated him; when one day, as he lay in despair, a sweet voice reached him, which sang a song he had often listened to when his sister Emma used to sing it in former days.
The youth, who distinctly recognised his sister'svoice, uttered her name, and on looking upwards, he saw, by the light of the moon, a duck fluttering before him, whose feathers were of gold, and whose neck was adorned by a costly row of pearls.
Then said the golden duck to the astonished youth, "I am thy sister Emma, who, transformed into a golden duck, fly about without a home."
She then related to her brother what had occurred during the journey, and the deception her aunt had been guilty of. As she thus recounted her unhappy fate, which constrained her to fly about unprotected, her life exposed to the snares of the hunters, whilst her beloved brother was languishing in prison, she wept abundantly; and the tears rolled about the tower as costly pearls, and golden feathers fell from her, and glittered on the dark ground.
The brother and sister pitied and tried to console each other. Henry especially lamented his talkativeness, which had brought all this misfortune upon them. At day-break the duck flew away, after promising to visit her brother every night.
After this intercourse had lasted some time, one night she did not make her appearance, which threw poor Henry into the greatest anxiety, for he feared shemight, for the sake of her precious feathers, have been caught, or perhaps even killed. Then, for the first time, the door of his prison was opened; the count's superintendent entered, announced that he was free, and conducted him to the very same apartments which he had occupied in happier days.
Before Henry could recover from his surprise, the count himself entered, tenderly embraced him, and besought his forgiveness for all the suffering that had been inflicted on him.
The warder of the tower, it appeared, had remarked the golden duck, and heard with astonishment how she spoke with a human voice, and conversed with the prisoner; all of which he had disclosed to the count. The count thus discovered, by listening in secret to their conversation, the fraud which had imposed the false bride upon him instead of the true and beautiful one. Vain, however, were his efforts the following night to get the golden duck into his power; she escaped from all the attendants who endeavoured to catch her; and snares and nets and all the artifices they practised, and all the pains they took, were of no avail.
Then the count entreated the intercession of the brother. Since his hard fate had robbed him of suchan amiable wife, he besought her at least in her present form to inhabit his castle. It was possible that his grief, his love, might move the offended fairy to restore her to her former shape.
Henry freely forgave the count, and promised to make his request known to his sister the next time she should visit him. Before, however, the duck's next visit, Adelheid expired, for the reproaches of her husband, and her own grief and remorse, had brought her to the grave. As soon as she was dead, the count banished Jutta to a remote place and forbade her ever to appear in his presence again. With Henry he lived on his former friendly terms.
Both lived in hopes of the reappearance of the golden duck. Long did they wait in vain, and they began to fear that the endeavours of the count to catch her had scared her from the place for ever, when one afternoon, as Henry was sitting alone in the dining-hall, she flew in at the window, and began gathering up the scattered crumbs on the table. How great was the brother's joy! He addressed her by the tenderest names, stroked her golden feathers, and inquired why she had remained so long absent.
Then Emma complained of the efforts to catch her,which the count's servants had made, and threatened never to return should such he repeated. The entreaty which Henry made in the count's name that she would dwell in the castle she decidedly rejected; and as she heard a noise in the adjoining chamber, she hastily flew away.
For a long time the youth hesitated whether he should tell the count of his sister's visit; as, however, he knew the strong affection of his friend, and feared he might not refrain from fresh attempts against the liberty of the golden duck, he resolved to say nothing about it. But the count had seen the duck fly past, and when Henry said nothing about it, he conceived mistrust of him, and laid a new plan to get possession of her.
The following morning, when Emma flew into her brother's chamber, the window was suddenly closed, the count having fastened a cord to it from above, and in a few moments he entered the room thinking he had now made sure of the much-desired prize. But the duck fluttered about, and made her exit through the keyhole.
Henry was much distressed, for he feared that he should now see his beloved sister no more, and heaped reproaches on the astonished count, who returned them to him so liberally, that they separated in mutual disgust,and Henry resolved to quit the city and wander through the wide world.
One day after he had long travelled he found himself in a thick fir wood, when suddenly a female form of great dignity stood before him, in whom Henry at once recognised the fairy who had so richly gifted his sister.
"Wherefore," said she, with a reproachful look, "didst thou leave the castle at the time when thy sister's ill fortune, of which thou wert the cause, was beginning to turn to good? Hasten back immediately, confirm the count in the remorse for his profligate life which is now awakening in him, and the golden duck will then be released from her enchantment. And not only shall she retain the wonderful gifts she has hitherto possessed, but thenceforth she shall no longer have to fear air and sun-light."
The fairy disappeared, and Henry returned full of hope to the castle. On his way thither he met several of the count's servants, who told him their lord had sent them out with commands not to return until they found him. For they added, since Henry's departure had left the count so lonely and forsaken, he had fallen sick through sorrow and longing after his friend.
When Henry entered the count's chamber, he foundhim lying on his bed really ill and unhappy. He comforted him with the fairy's promise, and the count solemnly vowed that he would never more return to his wild and sinful mode of life.
Scarcely had he uttered this solemn vow, when the window flew open of itself, the golden duck flew into the chamber, and, perching on the bed-post, said, "The period of my trials is completed. I may now return to my former figure and remain with you for ever."
Then the golden feathers dropped from her body; the long beak rounded into mouth and chin, above which gazed a pair of lovely eyes; before they could look round, a wondrously beautiful maiden stood before them, magnificently habited, and her joy at being re-united to her brother and her bridegroom drew the purest pearls from her eyes.
At the sight of her the count felt himself at once cured of his illness, and, a few days after, the nuptial feast was celebrated with all the pomp and magnificence befitting the high station and great wealth of the count.
M
any a long year ago there lived in a great forest a poor herdsman, who had built himself a log cabin in the midst of it, where he dwelt with his wife and his six children, all of whom were boys. There was a draw-well by the house, and a little garden, and when their father was looking after the cattle the children carried out to him a cool draught from the well, or a dish of vegetables from the garden.
The youngest of the boys was called by his parents Goldy, for his locks were like gold, and although the youngest he was stronger and taller than all his brothers. When the children went out into the fields, Goldy always went first with a branch of a tree in his hand, and no otherwise would the other children go, for each feared lest some adventure should befall him; but when Goldy led them they followed cheerfully, onebehind the other, through even the darkest thicket, although the moon might have already risen over the mountains.
One evening, on their return from their father, the children had amused themselves by playing in the wood, and Goldy especially had so heated himself in their games, that he was as rosy as the sky at sun-set.
"Let us return," said the eldest, "it seems growing dark."
"See," said the second, "there is the moon!"
At that moment a light appeared through the dark fir-trees, and a female form, shining like the moon, seated herself on the mossy stone, and span, with a crystal distaff, a fine thread, nodding her head towards Goldy, singing:—
"The snow-white finch, the gold rose, for thee;The king's crown lies in the lap of the sea!"
"The snow-white finch, the gold rose, for thee;The king's crown lies in the lap of the sea!"
She was about to continue her song when the thread broke, and she was instantly extinguished like the flame of a candle. It being now quite dark, terror seized the children, and they ran about crying piteously, one here, and another there, over rock and pit, till they lost each other.
Many a day and night did Goldy wander in the thick forest, but could find neither his brothers nor his father's hut, nor yet the trace of a human foot, for the forest had become more dense; one hill seemed to rise above another, and pit after pit intercepted his path.
The blackberries, that grew in profusion, satisfied his hunger and slaked his thirst, otherwise he must have perished miserably. At last, on the third day—some say it was not until the sixth or seventh—the forest became less and less dense, and at last he got out of it, and found himself in a lovely green meadow.
Then his heart grew light, and he inhaled the pure fresh air.
Nets were spread over the meadow, for a bird-catcher lived there, who caught the birds which flew out of the wood, and carried them into the city for sale.
"That is just such a boy as I want," thought the bird-catcher, when he saw Goldy, who stood in the meadow close to the net, gazing with longing eyes into the blue sky; and then in jest he drew his net, and imprisoned within it the astonished boy, who could not comprehend what had befallen him. "That's the way we catch the birds that come out of the wood,"said the bird-catcher, laughing heartily. "Your red feathers please me right well. So I have caught you, have I, my little fox? You had better stay with me, and I will teach you how to catch birds!"
Goldy was well content; he thought he should lead a merry life amongst the birds, especially as he abandoned all hope of again finding his father's hut.
"Let us see how much you have learnt," said the bird-catcher to him, some days after. Goldy drew the net, and caught a snow-white chaffinch.
"Confound you and this white chaffinch!" screamed the bird-catcher; "you are in league with the evil one!" and he drove him roughly from the meadow, at the same time treading under his feet, the white chaffinch which Goldy had handed over to him.
Goldy could not conceive what the bird-catcher meant; he returned sadly, but yet not despairingly, to the forest, with the intention of renewing his endeavours to find his father's hut. Day and night he wandered about, climbing over fragments of rock and old fallen trees, and often stumbled and fell over the old black roots which protruded in all directions from out of the ground.
On the third day, however, the forest once more becamesomewhat clearer, and he issued from it into a beautiful bright garden, full of the most delightful flowers, and as he had never before seen such he stood gazing full of admiration. The gardener no sooner perceived him—for Goldy stood beneath the sunflowers, and his locks glistened in the sunshine just like one of them—than he exclaimed: "Ha! he is just such a boy as I want!" and the garden-gate closed directly. Goldy was very well satisfied, for he thought he should lead a gay life amongst the flowers, and he had again lost the hope of getting back to his father's cottage.
"Off with you to the forest!" said the gardener to him one morning, "and fetch me the stem of a wild rose, that I may engraft cultivated roses on it."
Goldy went and returned with a rose-bush bearing the most beautiful golden-coloured roses imaginable, which looked exactly as if they were the work of the most skilful of goldsmiths, and prepared to adorn a monarch's table.
"Confound you, with these golden roses!" screamed the gardener; "you are in league with the evil one!" and he drove Goldy roughly out of the garden, as with plenty of abuse he trampled the golden roses on the ground.
Goldy knew not what the gardener could mean; but he went calmly back into the forest, and again set himself to seek after his father's cabin.
He walked on day and night, from tree to tree, from rock to rock. On the third day, the forest again became clearer and clearer, and he came to the shore of the blue sea. It lay before him without a boundary; the sun mirrored itself in the crystal surface, which glistened like liquid gold, and gay vessels with far-floating streamers floated on the waves. Some fishermen sat in a pretty bark on the shore, into which Goldy entered, and gazed with wonder out into the bright distance.
"We stand in need of just such a boy," said the fisherman, and off they pushed into the sea. Goldy was well pleased to go with them, for he thought it must be a golden life there amongst the bright waves, and he had quite lost all hope of again finding his father's hut.
The fishermen cast their nets, but took nothing.
"Let us see if you will have better luck," said an old fisherman with silver hair, addressing Goldy. With unskilful hands he let down the net into the deep, drew it up, and lo! he brought up in it—a crown of pure gold.
"Triumph!" cried the ancient fisherman, at the same time throwing himself at Goldy's feet. "I hail thee as our king! A hundred years ago, the last of our kings, having no heir, when he was about to die, cast his crown into the sea, and until the fortunate being destined by fate, should again draw up the crown from the deep, the throne, without an occupant, was to remain wrapt in gloom."
"Hail to our king!" cried all the fishermen, and they placed the crown on the boy's head. The tidings of Goldy and of the regained crown, resounded from vessel to vessel, and across the sea far into the land. The golden surface was soon crowded with gay barks and ships, adorned with festoons of flowers and branches; they all saluted with loud acclamations of joy the vessel in which was the Boy-king. He stood with the bright crown upon his head, at the prow of the vessel, and gazed calmly on the sun as it sank into the sea, whilst his golden locks waved in the refreshing evening breeze.
T
here lived once a peasant's wife who would have given all she possessed to have a child, but yet she never had one.
One day her husband brought home a bundle of twigs from the wood, out of which crept a pretty little young serpent. When Sabatella, that was the peasant woman's name, saw the little serpent, she sighed deeply and said: "Even serpents have their offspring; I alone am so unfortunate as to remain childless!"
"Since you are childless," replied the little serpent, "take me in lieu of a child; you shall have no cause to repent, and I will love you more than a son."
When Sabatella heard the serpent speak, she was at first ready to go out of her wits from fright; but at length taking courage said: "If it be only for your kind words, I will love you as well as if you were my own child."
So saying, she showed the serpent a cupboard in the house for his bed, and she gave him a share, daily, of all she had to eat, and so the serpent grew; and when he was quite grown up, he said to the peasant, Cola Mattheo by name, whom he considered in the light of a father: "Dear Papa, I wish to marry."
"I am willing," said Mattheo; "we will look about for a serpent like yourself, and conclude the alliance at once."
"Why so," replied the serpent; "we shall then only become connected with vipers, and similar vermin. I greatly prefer to marry the king's daughter; so pray go forthwith, solicit the king for her, and say that a serpent wishes to have her for his wife."
Cola Mattheo, who was a simple-minded man, went without further delay to the king, and said: "The persons of messengers are always held sacred. Know, therefore, that a serpent desires to have your daughter for his wife; and I am come hither in my capacity of gardener to see whether I can graft a dove upon a serpent."
The king, perceiving that he was somewhat of a booby, in order to get rid of him, said: "Go home, and tell this serpent that if he can turn all the fruit in this garden into gold, I will give him my daughter in marriage," and laughing heartily, he dismissed the peasant.
When Cola Mattheo reported the king's answer, the serpent replied: "Go early in the morning and collect all the fruit kernels you can find throughout the city, and sow them in the royal garden; then you shall behold a wonder."
Cola Mattheo, who was a great simpleton, said nothing, but as soon as the sun with his golden besom had swept away the shades of night, he took his basket under his arm, went from street to street, carefully picking up every seed and kernel of peach, pomegranate, apricot, cherry, and all other fruits he could find. Then he sowed them in the royal garden as the serpent had desired him,—which he had no sooner done than he perceived the stems of the trees, together with their leaves, flowers, and fruit, all turn into shining gold; and the king, when he saw it, went almost out of his senses, and could not tell what to make of the affair.
But when Cola Mattheo was sent by the serpent to request the king to perform his promise, the king replied: "Not so fast! For if the serpent really desires to have my daughter in marriage, he must do something more; and, in fact, I should like him to change the walls and the paths in my garden into precious stones."
On this new demand being reported to the serpent, he said: "Go early in the morning and collect all the potsherds you can find on the ground; strew them in the paths and on the walls of the garden; then we shall soon make the king perform his promise."
And when the night had passed away, Cola Mattheo took a great basket and collected all the bits of broken pots, pans, jugs, cups and saucers, and all similar rubbish; and when he had done with them as the serpent desired him, the garden was suddenly covered with emeralds, rubies, chalcedonies, and carbuncles, so that its brilliancy dazzled all eyes, and astonished all hearts. The king was almost petrified at this spectacle, and knew not what had befallen him.
When, however, the serpent caused him to be again reminded of his promise, he answered: "All this is nothing yet. I must have this palace quite filled with gold."
When Cola brought this further put-off from the king, the serpent only said: "Go and take a bunch of green herbs, and sweep the floors of the palace with it; then we shall see what will happen."
Mattheo directly made a great bunch of purslain, marjoram, rue, and chervil, with which he swept the floors of the palace, and immediately the rooms werefilled with gold in such quantities, that poverty must have fled at least a hundred houses off.
Now when the peasant went once more in the name of the serpent to demand the princess, the king found himself constrained at last to keep his promise. He called his daughter, and said: "My beloved Grannonia, in order to make sport of an individual who requested you in marriage, I required things of him which seemed impossible. As, however, I now find myself obliged to fulfil my promise—I entreat you, my dutiful daughter, not to bring my word to disgrace, but that you will resign yourself to what Heaven wills, and I am constrained to do."
"Do as you please, my lord and father," answered Grannonia, "for I will not depart one hair's breadth from what you desire."
On hearing this the king desired Cola Mattheo to conduct the serpent to his presence; who accordingly repaired to court in a carriage made entirely of gold, drawn by four elephants, also of gold. As they passed along, however, everybody fled before them, from terror at seeing such a dreadfully large serpent.
When the serpent reached the palace, the courtiers shuddered and trembled; even the very scullions ran away, and the king and queen shut themselves up ina remote chamber. Grannonia alone retained her self-possession; and although her royal parents called to her, saying: "Fly, fly, Grannonia!" she stirred not from the spot, and merely said: "I will not flee from the husband whom you have given me."
No sooner had the serpent entered the apartment, than he encircled Grannonia with his tail, kissed her,then drew her into another chamber, locked the door, and stripping off his skin, was transformed into a remarkably handsome young man, with golden locks and bright eyes, who immediately embraced Grannonia with the utmost tenderness, and paid her the most flattering attentions.
The king, on seeing the serpent lock himself into another room with the princess, said to his wife: "Heaven have pity on our poor daughter; for, unquestionably, all is over with her. This confounded serpent has, no doubt, by this time swallowed her up like the yolk of an egg." And they peeped through the keyhole to see what had happened.
But when they beheld the surprising elegance and beauty of the young man, and perceived the serpent skin, which had been thrown down on the ground, they burst open the door, rushed in, and seizing the skin, threw it into the fire, where it was instantly consumed. Whereupon the young man exclaimed: "Ah! you wretched people, what have you done to me!" and changing himself into a pigeon, he flew with such force against the window glass, that it broke, and he flew through, although very much injured.
Grannonia, who in one and the same moment beheld herself thus rejoicing and grieving, happy and unhappy, rich and poor, complained bitterly at this destruction of her happiness, this poisoning of her joy, this sad change of her fortune, all of which she laid to the charge of her parents, although these assured her they had not intended to do wrong. She, however, ceased not to bemoan herself until night drew in, and as soon as all the inmates of the palace were in their beds, she collected all her jewels, and went out at a back door, determined to search till she should again find her lost treasure. When she got beyond the city, guided by the moonshine, she met a fox, who offered to be her companion; to which Grannonia replied: "You are heartily welcome to me, neighbour, for I do not know the district very well."
They went on together a considerable way, and reached a forest, where the tops of the lofty trees met on high, and formed an agreeable canopy over their heads. As they were weary with walking, and wished to repose, they went under the thick leafy roof, where a rivulet sported with the fresh grass, sprinkling it with its clear drops.
They lay down on the mossy carpet, paid the debt ofsleep to nature for the wear and tear of life, and did not wake until the sun with his wonted fire gave notice that men might resume their avocations; but after they had risen, they stood awhile listening to the song of the little birds, as Grannonia took infinite pleasure in hearing their twittering.
When the fox perceived this, he said: "If you understood, as I do, what they say, your pleasure would be infinitely greater."
Excited by his words—for curiosity as well as love of gossip is a natural gift in all women—Grannonia begged the fox to tell her what he had learned from the birds.
The fox allowed her to urge him for a considerable time, in order to awaken still greater curiosity for what he was going to relate; but at length he told her that the birds were conversing about a misfortune which had befallen the son of a king, who, having given offence to a wicked enchantress, had been doomed by her to remain for seven long years in the form of a serpent. The period of his enchantment arriving at its close, he had fallen in love with the daughter of a king, and having, on finding himself in a room alone with her, stripped off his serpent's skin, her parents had broken in upon them and had burnt the skin; whereupon theprince, by flying through a window in the form of a pigeon, had so severely injured himself, that the surgeons had no hope of his recovery.
Grannonia, on hearing the history of her beloved prince, immediately inquired whose son the prince might be, and if there were any means by which his cure could be effected. The fox replied, that those birds had said that he was the son of the King of Ballone-Grosso, and that no other means existed of stopping up the holes in his head, so that his reason should not evaporate through them, but to anoint the wounds with the blood of those very birds who had narrated the circumstance.
On hearing these words, Grannonia besought the fox to be so very kind as to catch the birds for her, that she might get their blood, and promised to share with him the profit she would make by curing the prince.
"Softly to work," said the fox; "let us wait till night, and when the birds are gone to roost, I will climb the tree and strangle them one after the other."
So he passed the day talking alternately of the beauty of the king's son, of the father of the princess, and of the misfortune that had befallen her, till at length night came on. When the fox saw all the littlebirds asleep on the branches, he climbed very quietly and cautiously up, and caught all the chaffinches, goldfinches, and fly-catchers that were on the tree, killed them, and put their blood in a little flask he carried with him, in order to refresh himself on the road.
Grannonia was expressing her delight at this success, when the fox said to her: "My dear daughter, your joy is all in vain; for you have gained nothing at all, unless besides the blood of the birds you also possess mine, which I certainly do not mean to give you;" and so saying, off he ran.
Grannonia, who saw that all her hopes were about to be annihilated, in order to obtain her desires, had recourse to cunning and flattery; so she cried out to him: "Dear daddy fox, you would be quite in the right to take care of your skin, if I were not so much indebted to you, and if there were no more foxes in the world. But since you know how much I have to thank you for, and that in these fields there is no lack of creatures of your kind, you may rely without uneasiness on me, and therefore do not act like the cow who kicks down the pail after she has filled it with her milk. Stand still, do not leave me, but accompany me to this king's city, in order that he may hire me of you for a servant."
The fox into whose head it never entered that a fox could ever be duped, found himself, however, deceived by a woman; for he had scarcely given his assent to accompanying Grannonia, and had not gone fifty paces with her, before she ungratefully knocked him down with the stick she carried, killed him, and poured his blood into the flask.
She then ran off as fast as she could, until she reached Ballone-Grosso. There she went straight to the royal palace, and caused the king to be informed she was come to cure the prince's wounds.
The king had her immediately brought into his presence, greatly surprised that a young maiden should promise to do that which the most skilful surgeons in his kingdom acknowledged themselves incompetent to effect. But as there would be no harm in trying, he gave her permission to make the experiment.
Grannonia, however, said: "If I fulfil your wishes, you must promise to give me your son for my husband." The king, who had lost all hope of seeing his son restored, replied: "Only restore him to health and spirits, and you shall have him just as you make him. For it is not too much for me to give a husband to one who gives me a son."
So they went into the prince's room, and no sooner had Grannonia anointed him with the blood than he was entirely cured. Now when Grannonia saw him well and cheerful, she said to the king that he must keep his word; whereupon the latter turned to his son, and spoke thus: "My dear son, but lately I looked upon you as dead, and now, when I least expected, I see you again living and well; and since I promised this young maiden in case she restored you, that you should become her husband, and as heaven has been so gracious to me, enable me, if you have any regard for me, to fulfil my promise, for gratitude constrains me to recompense this service."
The prince replied: "My lord and father, I wish my will were as free as my love for you is great. But since I have already given my word to another woman, you would not wish that I should break my promise; and this young maiden herself will not counsel me to act so faithlessly to her whom I love, therefore I must remain true to my choice."
When Grannonia heard these words, and perceived that the prince retained the memory of her so vividly in his heart, she felt unspeakable joy, and said, whilst she blushed to crimson: "But if I persuade the maidenwhom you love, to renounce her claim on you, would you then comply with my wish?"
"Far be it from me," replied the prince, "that I should ever efface the fair image of my beloved from my breast. Whatever she may do, my desire and my sentiments will remain unaltered; and were I to risk my life for it, still I never would consent to the change."
Grannonia, who could no longer conceal her feelings, now made herself known; for the darkness of the chamber, where all the curtains were drawn on account of the prince's illness, and her own disguise, had entirely prevented him from recognising her. The moment he perceived who she was, he embraced her with indescribable joy, and then related to his father who she was, and what she had done for him.
Then they sent for the parents of the princess, and the marriage festival was celebrated with great rejoicings, so that it was again made manifest that for the joys of love, sorrow is ever the best seasoning.
I
n a little obscure village, there once dwelt a poor shepherd, who, for many years, supported himself and his family upon the very trifling wages he earned by his labour. Besides his wife he had one only child, a boy. He had accustomed this boy, from a very early age, to go out with him to the pastures, and had instructed him in the duties of a faithful shepherd, so that as the child grew up he could entrust the flocks to his care, whilst he himself could earn a few pence by basket weaving. The young shepherd gaily led his flocks over the fields and pastures, whistling or singing some cheerful song, or cracking his whip, that the time should not pass heavily with him. At noon he lay down at his ease by his flock, ate his bread, and quenched his thirst at the rivulet, and then slept for a short time before he drove it further.
One day when he had lain down under a shady tree for his noontide rest, the young shepherd slept and had a remarkable dream. He was journeying on, far, far on—he heard a loud clinking sound, like to a heap of coins incessantly falling on the ground—a thundering noise like the report of incessant firing—he saw a countless band of soldiers, with glittering armour and weapons—all these sights and sounds encircled him and resounded about him. Then he seemed to wander on, constantly ascending a mountain until he arrived at the summit, where a throne was erected on which he seated himself, leaving beside him a vacant place, which a beautiful woman who suddenly appeared, immediately occupied. The young shepherd still dreaming, rose up, saying in a solemn and earnest voice: "I am King of Spain;" and at that moment he awoke.
Pondering on his strange dream, the youth led on his flock, and in the evening, whilst he assisted his parents in their work as they sat before their cottage door cutting fodder, he related it to them, and concluded by saying: "Verily, if I dream that again, I will be off to Spain to see whether I shall be made king."
"Foolish boy," murmured the old father; "thou bemade king? Don't go and make yourself a laughingstock."
His mother laughed outright, rubbing her hands, and repeating in amaze, "King of Spain! king of Spain!"
The next day at noon he lay down again under the same tree, and oh, wonder! the same dream took possession of his senses. He hardly had patience to watch his flock till evening; gladly would he have run home, and at once set out on his journey to Spain. When at length his work was done, he again related his romantic dream, saying: "If I do but dream this once again, I will go off directly, on the very same day."
The third day he lay down again under the same tree, and the same dream again visited him for the third time. The youth raised himself up in his sleep, exclaiming: "I am King of Spain," and thereupon he awoke. He gathered up his hat, his whip, and his provision bag, collected his sheep, and went back straight to the village. When he got there the people began to chide him for returning so long before vespers; but the youth was so excited that he paid no heed to the reproofs either of the neighbours or of his parents, but packed up his Sunday clothes, hung the bundle on a hazelstick, and throwing it over his shoulder started off without another word. He put his best foot foremost, and ran so fast that one would have thought he hoped to reach Spain that same night.
He got no further however that day than to the borders of a forest, and not a village nor even a solitary cottage could he descry; so he resolved to take his night's rest in a thick bush. He had scarcely fallen asleep when he was disturbed by a great noise. A company of men, conversing loudly, passed before the bush which he had made his bed. The youth crept softly forward, and followed the men at a little distance, saying to himself: "Perhaps thou mayest still find a lodging; where these men pass the night, thou surely mayest also sleep." They had not gone much further before they came to a house of considerable dimensions, which, however, was situated in the centre of the dark forest. The men knocked, and were admitted, and the young shepherd unperceived slipped in with them into the house. Another door was then thrown open, and they all entered a large and very imperfectly lighted room, on the floor of which lay numerous trusses of straw, beds and coverlids, which seemed ready prepared for the men's night repose. Theshepherd boy crept quickly under a heap of straw, which was scattered near the door, and lay in his concealment on the look-out for all he might see and hear. As he was a very sharp boy, with all his senses about him, it was not long before he made out that he was amongst a band of robbers, whose captain was the owner of the house. This latter, as soon as the newly arrived members of the band had stretched themselves on their couches, ascended an elevated seat, and said in a deep bass voice: "My brave comrades, give me an account of your day's work; where you have been, and what booty you have got!"
A tall man, with a coal black beard, was the first to raise himself from his bed, and answered: "My good captain, early this morning I robbed a rich nobleman of his leathern breeches; these have two pockets, and as often as they are turned inside out, and well shaken, a heap of ducats falls on the ground."
"That sounds well, indeed!" said the captain.
Then uprose another, and said: "I stole from a great general his three-cornered hat; and this hat has the property, that so long as it is turned round upon the head shots are fired off incessantly from its three corners."
"That's worth hearing," replied the captain; upon which a third man sat up, saying: "I have deprived a knight of his sword, and when you stick the point of this sword into the earth, up starts at that very moment a regiment of soldiers."
"A brave deed," exclaimed the captain; as the fourth robber then began: "I drew off the boots of a traveller whilst he slept, and whoever puts on those boots goes seven miles at every step."
"I commend a bold deed," said the captain, highly pleased; "hang up your prizes against the wall, and now eat and drink heartily, and sleep well." So saying, he left the sleeping apartment of the robbers, who caroused lustily, and then slept soundly. When all was still and the men in deep sleep, the young shepherd stole from his hiding-place, put on the leathern breeches, set the hat upon his head, girded on the sword, drew on the boots, and slipped softly out of the house. As soon as he was outside the door, the boots, to his infinite delight, at once manifested their magic virtue, and it was not long before the youth entered the great capital of Spain; it is called Madrid.
He asked the very first person he met to direct him to the most considerable hotel in the city; but receivedfor answer, "You little urchin, get off with you to some place where such as yourself lodge, and not to where great lords dine." A shining gold piece, however, soon made his adviser a little more courteous, so that now he willingly conducted the youth to the best hotel. Arrived there, he at once engaged the best apartments, and said to his host: "Well, how goes it in your city? What is the latest news here?"
The host made a long face, and replied: "My little gentleman, you must be indeed quite a stranger here. It seems that you have not yet heard that his majesty, our king, is on the eve of departing for the wars with an army of twenty thousand men. You must know we have enemies, powerful enemies. Oh, these are, indeed, dreadful times! Is your little worship disposed to join the army?"
"No doubt!" said the stripling, whose countenance beamed with joy.
No sooner had the host left him, than he quickly drew off his leather breeches, shook out a heap of gold pieces, and purchased for himself costly garments with arms and accoutrements, dressed himself in them, and then craved an audience of the king. As heentered the palace, and was being conducted by two chamberlains through a spacious and magnificent hall, he was met by a young and wondrously beautiful lady, who graciously saluted him, and whom he beheld surrounded by courtiers, who bowed to her as he passed, whilst they whispered to him, "That is the princess—the king's daughter."
The young shepherd was not a little enraptured by the beauty of the princess; and he was so inspired by his admiration and delight, that he was able to speak boldly and confidently to the monarch.
"I come," said he, "most humbly to offer to your majesty my services as a warrior. The army I bring to you shall gain the victory for you; and it shall win for your majesty whatever you may be pleased to desire. But I ask of you one recompense, namely, that if I gain the victory for you, I may receive your lovely daughter in marriage. Will you grant me this, my most gracious king?"
The king was astonished at the youth's bold address, and answered: "Be it so—I agree to your request. If you return home a conqueror, you shall be my successor, and I will give you my daughter in marriage."