THE ENCHANTED WATCH
Thereonce lived a gay young girl named Fannie, who never knew what time it was. Did she care? That I cannot say. And it is impossible for me to tell you how often she kept her father waiting, and caused him to be late for his appointments. And such a kind father as he was to Fannie, for she was his only child and he loved her very much. Indeed, he loved her so much that he overlooked her faults when he should have reproved them. Whole half-hours she used to keep the carriage waiting in front of the door, while she prinked before her mirror. And because she was never prompt, every one called her “Miss Tardy.” Yet, after keeping people waiting, she would excuse herself in the sweetest manner possible, and blame herself for thoughtlessness.
One day her old Godmother wrote that she was coming the next morning to lunch with Fannie at noon. She was a Fairy so celebrated for her promptness that people called her “the Fairy Prompt,” of which name she was very proud. With her,noonwas not ten minutes after twelve, nor ten minutes before twelve, but it wasexactly twelve o’clock.
So the next morning, at the first stroke oftwelve, she set her foot on the bottom step of Fannie’s house, and, as the last stroke died away, she entered the dining-room. The table was beautifully laid, and all was ready, but Fannie was not there. Indeed, Miss Tardy had forgotten all about her Godmother, and was calling on a friend. She was trying on her friend’s beautiful new clothes and having such a fine time that the Godmother was utterly forgotten, as if she had never been in the world.
But at last hunger reminded Fannie of luncheon, and she hurried home. The servants informed her that her Godmother had arrived, but as Fannie’s shoes pinched her, she rushed to her room and put on a pretty little pair of slippers. Then, as her street clothes were not suitable for slippers, she changed her dress for a becoming house-gown. By this time it was two o’clock.
She found her Godmother asleep in a comfortable chair, such as is not made any more; and, I think, she was snoring a little. She awoke as Fannie opened the door hurriedly.
“My dear Godmother,” said she, “I am so sorry!—so ashamed!—I am indeed a thoughtless creature to keep you waiting this way!”
“That is all right,” said the Godmother, who was very kind and indulgent to Fannie. “I have slept a little, while waiting for you. That will do me no harm. What time is it?”
“Oh, please do not ask me!” begged Fannie, “you will make me die with shame!”
And like a playful child she ran and stood in front of the clock, but her Fairy Godmother, who had good eyes, saw that the hand had passed two o’clock.
The dinner, as you may well imagine, was overdone, but the Fairy, who really loved her goddaughter, took it all as good-naturedly as possible, and made many gay jokes as she tried to eat the burnt roasts and the scorched creams.
It was soon four o’clock, and Fannie’s father hurriedly entered the drawing-room, where she was chatting with her Godmother.
“Well, Fannie!” he cried. “Are you ready? Are you ready?” Then he started back when he saw his daughter, in her pretty pink and blue house-gown, stretched indolently on a sofa, her feet to the fire, while she daintily sipped her coffee.
“What!” exclaimed her father. “Have you forgotten that you were to be ready at four o’clock!”
“Do you not see my Godmother with me, Papa?” said Fannie reproachfully.
“Pardon me, madame,” said the father, turning to the Fairy and bowing, although his face was red with anger. “Excuse my rudeness, but my daughter will cause me to die with grief!”
“And what has the poor child done?” asked the Godmother.
“Judge for yourself,” said he. “Prince Pandolph has invited us to his villa. Fannie is to sing for his guests. They are all assembled and expecting her. The Prince has sent his carriage which is now waiting before the door.”
“But, Papa,” said Fannie, “cannot you go without me?”
“You know that cannot be, child,” said her father sadly. “It is you who are invited, and it is your fine voice that the Prince wishes for his musicale. He will now be offended for ever, since you cannot go in this dress.”
“Calm yourself, my good sir,” said the Godmother, seeing Fannie’s confusion. “It is because of me that this dear little one has forgotten you. It is for me to repair this evil.”
So saying she passed her hand over the unfortunate house-gown and it was instantly transformed into the most ravishing robe embroidered with gold and pearls. Fannie, who was naturally very pretty, shone like a star in this brilliant costume.
“Wait a minute,” said the Fairy to the impatient father, who was already leading his daughter away. “Let me finish my work.” And she put around the neck of her goddaughter a magnificent golden chain at the end of which hung an exquisitelittle watch the size of a locket, and all of chased gold studded with diamonds.
“Now, little one,” said she, kissing the forehead of the spoilt child, “here is something that will aid your naughty memory. With this you will never again forget an engagement. Be sure to come home by ten o’clock.”
“Oh, yes, indeed!” said Fannie, kissing her Godmother joyfully.
It is necessary to say here that it was the Fairy Prompt who invented watches in her youth. But hers were not like those sold nowadays in the shops. There was a magic virtue in each watch, for when the hour of an engagement arrived, it made so loud a ticking that the owner of it had no peace until he kept his engagement.
So it happened that while Fannie was listening to the praises of the Prince and his guests, who were saying that she had the most delightful voice in the world, she heard a gentle sound, but very distinct:—
“Tic! Tic! Tic!”
“It is ten o’clock!” exclaimed Fannie joyously to her father. “Oh! my dear, good, little watch, that my Godmother gave me, it has told me so! We must hurry home.”
Her father, who was very much pleased because she had charmed the Prince and his guests with her sweet voice, said as they drove away:—
“My dear child, to-morrow I am going to take you to the finest jeweller in town, and buy for you the bracelet of antique cameos that you have been begging me for. At what time do you wish to go? At ten o’clock?”
“Oh, no!” cried Fannie, her eyes sparkling with delight, “at nine o’clock, please! Ever since I saw the bracelet I have been dying to possess it!”
“Very good! At nine o’clock, then. And what shall we do with the rest of our morning?”
“At exactly ten I am to go to the dressmaker’s to order some new gowns,” said Fannie, “but may we not lunch together at eleven?”
“Just as you say, dear little nightingale,” answered her father affectionately. “And order all the gowns and furbelows you wish, for the plumage should match the warbling. And since it suits you, I will meet you promptly at eleven, for at twelve I have an important business engagement.”
“At eleven o’clock, then, dear Papa,” said Fannie, “but do not forget to return in time this evening to escort me to the Baron’s ball!”
“Don’t worry!” said her father, smiling, “for nothing in the world would I make a pearl of a daughter like you wait for an escort!”
The next morning Fannie rose early and dressed more rapidly than usual, and was readywaiting for her father at nine. They drove to the jeweller’s. How her eyes sparkled as her father clasped the cameo bracelet on her arm! But the jeweller, who hoped to sell Fannie a necklace as well, took from his showcase such beautiful collars of pearls, rubies, amethysts, and other gems and precious stones that she forgot how the time was flying.
“Tic! Tic! Tic! Tic!”
“Thank you, dear watch, for warning me!” said Fannie gaily, “but the dressmaker must wait!”
“Tic! Tic! Tic! Tic! Tic!”
“You insupportable thing!” cried she, and taking the watch from her neck she handed it to her father, saying: “I beg you, dear Papa, to put this in your pocket. It is very annoying!”
He took the watch, and seeing a friend on the street, went to the door to speak with him.
“Toc! Toc! Toc! Toc!”
The watch raised its voice so that Fannie should hear it. The people in the shop all asked where the noise came from. And her father, mortified, said good-bye to his friend, gave back the watch to Fannie, and hurried her into the carriage.
She was soon at the dressmaker’s, and her ill-humour passed as she ordered a dress of pink brocade trimmed with rich lace, and a robe of garnet velvet embroidered with gold threads, and a cloakof silver cloth trimmed with pearls. She was not yet through when she glanced at the clock, and saw that it was eleven.
“Oh!” thought she, “that horrid watch is going to disturb me again! But I’ll finish my ordering!”
“Toc! Toc! Toc! Toc!”
The dressmaker turned her head. “What’s that, Miss?” she exclaimed with fright.
“It is nothing, let us go on!” said Miss Tardy.
“Toc! Toc! Toc! Toc!” louder than before.
“It is thieves! It is thieves!” cried the dressmaker.
“It is nothing I tell you—unfold this gown.”
“Toc!—Toc!—Toc!—Toc!” louder and louder!
And the poor dressmaker, half dead with fright, was in such a state that she could show no more clothes. And Fannie put on her hat and coat, and hurried away to the restaurant where she found her father walking nervously up and down.
“Ah! how thoughtful of you, dear child, to be prompt!” he said, as he led her to a table. And the delicious food soon made her forget her annoyance.
When Fannie returned home she was so fatigued that she put on a charming wrapper, and lay down to rest. Then she remembered that she had an engagement to see a poor man at twoo’clock, whose want she had promised to relieve. She took the fatal watch from her neck, and giving it to the maid, said:—
“Take this, and carry it to the cellar, so that I may be rid of it!”
Two o’clock struck, and the poor old man, who had had nothing to eat for three days, presented himself. The maid told him that Miss Fannie was sleeping and would not see him. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he bowed humbly and was turning away, when everybody in the house jumped to the ceiling.
“Paf! Paf! Paf! Paf!” It was like so many shots from a pistol.
The neighbours commenced screaming. The servants ran frantically to and fro.
Fannie sprang up from her couch.
“Paf! Paf! Paf! Paf!”
“It must be that wretched watch!” cried she.
“Paf!—Paf!—Paf!—Paf!”
“Yes! Yes! I am coming! I am coming!” And she hurried to the cellar and, picking up the watch, returned to her room in silence.
Then she called the poor old man, fed him, and comforted him, and sent him away with a full purse.
Evening arrived, and Fannie, all dressed for the Baron’s ball, shone more beautifully than ever in her magnificent gown. And just as her fatherwas leading her to the carriage, a clumsy wagon drove up, and an old countrywoman descended from it, crying out that she must see her dear child—her Fannie—just once more before she died. It was Fannie’s old nurse who had come all the way from her village miles distant to hold her dear child in her arms. When she saw that Fannie was ready to go out, she screamed loudly and would have made herself ill, if Fannie had not embraced her tenderly, and promised to return before midnight. On the strength of this promise the old woman grew calm, and Fannie and her father went away to the ball.
But as the carriage drove through the streets, Fannie regretted her promise, and slipping her little hand under her cloak, she loosened the fatal watch, and flung it into a deep ditch.
“At last! At last!” she said to herself, with a sigh of relief.
Midnight sounded, and found her breathlessly twirling around in the dance, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks glowing.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The orchestra stopped suddenly. The thunderclaps—for so they seemed to be—continued to follow each other without interruption.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”
All the city was awake. Women cried out that the end of the world was come.
The unfortunate Fannie knew in a minute what it was. Fright seized her, and she lost her head. Instead of returning home quietly, which would have put an end to the horrible racket, she ran out into the street, and, wild with fright, hastened with all speed to the spot where she had thrown the watch.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The houses were lighted. The amazed people thrust their heads out the windows. All that they saw was a young girl running through the streets, her neck and head bare, and her ball-gown flying in the wind.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”—every stroke was louder and more fearful.
The firemen came hurrying up to see if there was a fire, and one of them held his lantern under Fannie’s nose, and cried out: “Why, it is little Miss Tardy! She has doubtless lost the time, and is hunting for it! Ha! Ha!”
Meanwhile Fannie ran on, and arrived breathlessly at the ditch into which she had flung the watch. Guided by its thunderous blows, she quickly laid her fingers on it. In a fury she was about to dash it against a stone when she felt a hand on her arm.
It was her Fairy Godmother, who, in gentletones of reproach, said: “What are you doing, my child? You can never succeed!”
Then she took the watch from Fannie, which instantly became quiet, and passed the chain around the neck of her goddaughter, who was trembling with penitence and shame.
“Neither violence nor trickery,” said her Godmother, “have any power over my gift to you. All you can do is to take it, and obey. And then you will find yourself happy.”
At the same moment Miss Tardy felt herself being transported through the air, and found herself once more in her own room, holding the hand of her old nurse, who was weeping with tenderness and joy.
I have no need to tell you that Fannie never again attempted to disobey the protecting tyrant that she wore around her neck. And as the watch no longer had to warn her with its loud ticking, she learned in time to enjoy sacrificing her whims to her duty.
Jean Macé(Adapted)