THE SHINING CHILD AND THE WICKED MOUCHE
Onceupon a time a noble but poor Count lived in the lovely land of Alsace. He dwelt in a charming little house on a hill. All around the house the graceful trees stretched out their leafy branches like arms, as if they were saying: “Welcome! Welcome among us!” Not far from the house was a thick green wood filled with birds and flowers and scented grasses. The good Count did not live alone in this delightful spot; no indeed, his wife and his two children, Fanchon and Frederic, lived with him, happy and contented.
Now, one Summer the news arrived that a wealthy and distinguished nobleman, cousin of the Count, was coming the next day, with his family, to call upon his poor relatives.
The following morning the Countess got up very early, and baked a cake into which she put more almonds and raisins than she ever put into her Easter cakes, so that its delicious fragrance filled the house. The Count dusted and brushed his old green waistcoat; while Fanchon andFrederic, dressed in their best clothes, sat waiting for the guests to come.
“You must not run about in the wood, as you usually do,” said the Count to them, “but sit very still so that you will look clean and neat when your cousins arrive.”
So the poor children were forced to stay in the house. The morning sun was peeping bright and smiling from behind a cloud, and was darting his rays in at the window. Out in the wood the breeze was blowing sweet and fresh, and the robins, the thrushes, the goldfinches, and the nightingales, were all warbling their loveliest songs. Poor Fanchon sat still and listened, sometimes smoothing the bow on her pink sash, and sometimes knitting a bit, and all the while longing to run away to the wood. As for Frederic, he was looking at a picture book, but he kept jumping up every minute to gaze out at the window; for the big house dog Pepin was barking and bounding before the window, as if to say: “Aren’t you coming out? What in the world are you doing in that stuffy room?”
And so Fanchon and Frederic had to remain in the house; and this was all the more painful, because the company-cake, which was on the table, gave out the most delicious spicy odours, yet might not be cut until the cousins came. “Oh! that they would only come!—would onlycome!” the children cried, and almost wept with impatience.
At last the loud tramping of horses was heard, and the rumble of wheels, then a carriage approached, so brilliant and so covered with golden ornaments that the children were amazed, for they had never seen anything like it. The carriage stopped before the house, and a very tall, thin gentleman glided out with the help of a footman, and fell into the arms of the Count, to whose cheek he gently pressed his lips. Then the footman aided a stout, red-faced woman to alight, while two children, a boy and a girl, stepped languidly down after her.
When they were all safely in the house, Fanchon and Frederic came forward and curtsied politely, as their father had told them to do. Then each seized a hand of the tall gentleman, saying: “We are glad you are come, noble Cousin!” After which they permitted the red-faced lady to embrace them; then they went up to the children, but stood before them silent and amazed. Indeed, these rich children were wonderfully dressed! The boy wore a little jacket of scarlet cloth, embroidered with gold and ornamented with gold tassels. A bright little sword hung at his side. On his head was a curious red cap with a white feather, from under which peeped his yellow face and bleared eyes.
The little girl had on a white dress all ribbons, lace, and bows, and her hair was frizzled and curled into a knot, on top of which was a shining coronet. Fanchon plucked up courage, and was going to take the little girl’s hand, but she snatched it away in such a hurry and looked so tearful and angry, that Fanchon was frightened and let her alone.
Frederic wished to have a closer look at the boy’s sword, and put out his hand to touch it, when the youngster began to shout and cry: “My sword! My sword! He is going to take my sword!” and ran to his father and hid behind him.
After that Fanchon and Frederic stood back quietly, while their mother cut the cake, and the older people talked. The two rich children sat munching dry crackers, for their parents said that cake was not good for them. But Fanchon and Frederic each had a large slice, which their dear mother gave them.
After they had finished eating, the guests arose to say good-bye, and the glittering carriage was driven to the door. The footman took from it two large bandboxes. These, the rich children handed with condescending pride, to Fanchon and Frederic. And just as the guests were about to take their leave, the dog Pepin, Frederic’s faithful friend and darling, came dancing andbarking around them. The rich children screamed, and had to be lifted, kicking with fright, into the carriage, which immediately drove away.
So ended the visit of these wealthy, distinguished, and noble cousins.
After the carriage containing the wealthy cousins had rolled down the hill, the Count threw off his green waistcoat, and put on his loose jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair. The children, too, quickly got out of their best clothes, and felt light and happy.
“To the wood! To the wood!” shouted Frederic, jumping as high as he could for joy.
“But don’t you wish to see what is in these handsome bandboxes your cousins gave you?” asked his mother.
And Fanchon, who had been gazing at the bandboxes with longing eyes, cried out: “Can’t we open them first, and go to the wood afterward?”
But Frederic was hard to convince. “Surely that stupid boy could not have brought anything worth while,” said he scornfully, “nor his ribbony sister! He talked so boldly about bears and lions, but when my dear Pepin barked, he forgot his sword and hid under the table! A brave sportsman he!”
“Oh, dear, good brother!” cried Fanchon, “just let us take one peep at what is in the boxes!”
So Frederic, who always did what he could to please his sister, gave up the idea of being off to the wood at once, and sat down patiently beside the table where the bandboxes were.
The mother opened them—and then—oh, my dear readers, if you could have seen what lay within! The loveliest toys were in those boxes! and candies, and sweet cakes, and nuts! The children clapped their hands again and again, crying: “Oh, how nice! Oh, how delicious!”
They took them all out of the boxes, and piled them on the table. None of the toys caused Frederic such satisfaction as did a little hunter who, when a string that stuck out from his jacket was pulled, put a gun to his shoulder, and fired at a target. Next to him in Frederic’s affections, was a little fellow who bowed, and twanged on a harp, whenever Frederic turned a tiny handle. And, what pleased him nearly as much, was a shotgun of wood and a hunting pouch and belt.
Fanchon was equally delighted with a beautiful doll, a trunk filled with doll’s dresses, tiny shoes, hats, and other lovely clothes, and a set of charming doll’s furniture.
The two children forgot all about the wood,and enjoyed themselves with their playthings until quite late in the evening. They then went to bed and slept soundly.
The next morning, the children got their boxes and took out the playthings, and began to play. Then, just as on the day before, the sun shone brightly in at the window, the trees rustled in the breeze, and the birds sang their loveliest songs. At last Frederic cried out:—
“Why do we sit here in this stuffy room? I’ll tell you what we’ll do! Come, Fanchon, let us be off to the wood!”
Fanchon had just undressed her doll, and was going to put it to bed. “Why can’t we stay here?” she begged, “and play a little longer, Frederic?”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he replied. “We’ll take our toys out to the wood. I’ll put on my pouch and belt, and carry my gun. I’ll be a real sportsman! The hunter and the harper may come, too. And you may take your doll. Come along! Let’s be off!”
Fanchon hastened to dress her doll, then they both ran out of the house, and off to the wood. There they sat down on a nice grassy spot. And after they had played a while, Fanchon said:—
“Do you know, Frederic, that harper of yours does not play very well. Just listen how funny his harp sounds out here in the wood—with that eternalting! ting! ping! ping!”
Frederic turned the handle more violently. “You’re right, Fanchon,” said he. “What the little fellow plays sounds quite horrible. He must make a better job of it!”
And with that he unscrewed the handle with such force, that—crack! crack!—the box on which the harper stood flew into a thousand splinters, and the arms of the little fellow were broken and hung useless at his sides.
“Oh! Oh!” cried Frederic.
“Ah, the poor little harper!” sighed Fanchon.
“Well, he was a stupid creature!” said Frederic. “He played very poor music, and bowed, and made faces like our yellow-faced cousin who gave him to us.” And as Frederic spoke, he threw the harper into a thicket.
“What I like, is my hunter,” he continued. “He hits the bull’s eye every time he fires.” And with that Frederic jerked the string so violently that—twang! twang!—the target was broken and the little man’s arms hung limp and motionless.
“Ah! Ah!” cried Frederic. “You could shoot at your target in-doors, but out here, you can’t shoot at all!” And so saying, Frederic, with allhis might, shied the hunter after the harper into the thicket.
“Come, let us run about a bit,” said he to Fanchon.
“Ah, yes! let us,” said she. “This lovely doll of mine shall run with us. It will be great fun!”
So Fanchon and Frederic took each an arm of the doll, and off they ran through the bushes, on and on, until they came to a small lake. There they stopped, and Frederic said:—
“Suppose we wait a minute. I have a gun now, and perhaps I may hit a duck among the rushes.”
At that moment, Fanchon screamed out: “Oh! just look at my doll! What’s the matter with her?”
Indeed, the poor thing was in a miserable condition. Neither Fanchon nor Frederic had been paying any attention to her, and the bushes had torn all the clothes off her back; both her legs were broken; while her pretty waxen face was covered with so many scratches that it was hideous to look at.
“Oh! my beautiful, beautiful child!” sobbed Fanchon.
“There, you see what a stupid creature that doll of yours is!” cried Frederic. “She can’t even take a little run, but she must tear and spoil her clothes! Give her to me!”
And before Fanchon could say a word, or cry: “Oh! Oh!” Frederic snatched the doll, and flung her into the lake.
“Never mind, Fanchon!” said he consolingly. “Never mind, if I can shoot a duck, you shall have the most beautiful wing-feathers.”
Just then a noise was heard among the rushes, and Frederic instantly took aim with his wooden gun. But he dropped it quickly from his shoulder, saying:—
“Am I not an idiot! How can a fellow shoot a duck without powder and shot? What’s the use of this stupid wooden thing, anyway?” With that he flung the gun and his pouch and belt into the lake.
But poor Fanchon was weeping at the loss of her doll, and Frederic was annoyed at the way things had turned out, so they both crept back sadly to the house. And when their mother asked them what had become of the playthings, Frederic truthfully related how they had been deceived by the harper, the hunter, the doll, and all.
“Ah! you foolish children!” cried their mother half in anger, “you do not deserve to have nice toys!”
But the Count, who had been listening to Frederic’s tale, said: “Let the children alone. I am really glad that they are fairly rid of thoseplaythings. There was something queer about them.”
But neither the children nor their mother understood what the Count meant.
Soon after these events very early one morning Fanchon and Frederic ran off to the wood. They were feeling sad, for their mother had told them that they must return home soon to study, so as to be ready for the tutor that their rich cousin had promised to send them. For the tutor was expected shortly.
“Let us run and jump as much as we can now,” said Frederic, when they reached the wood, “for in a little while we shall not be allowed to stay out here at all!”
So they began to play hide-and-seek, but everything went wrong. The wind carried Frederic’s hat into the bushes. He stumbled and fell on his nose as he was running. Fanchon found herself hanging by her clothes on a thorn-tree, and she banged her foot against a sharp stone so that she shrieked with pain. In fact the children could not understand what was the matter with them on this particular day; and they gave up their game, and slunk dejectedly through the wood. Frederic threw himself down under a shady tree,and Fanchon followed his example. And there the two children lay gloomy and wretched, gazing on the ground.
“Ah!” said Fanchon, “if we only had our playthings!”
“Nonsense!” said Frederic, “what should we do with them? I’ll tell you what it is, Fanchon, Mother is right, I suspect. The toys were good enough, but we didn’t know how to play with them. If we were as learned as our rich cousins, we should be so wise that all our toys would now be whole; and we should know how to play with them rightly.”
And at that Fanchon began to sob and cry bitterly, and Frederic joined her; and they both howled and lamented until the wood rang again and again: “Oh! poor, unfortunate children that we are! Oh! that we were as wise as our cousins!”
But suddenly they both stopped crying, and asked each other in amazement:—
“Do you hear anything, Fanchon?”
“Do you hear anything, Frederic?”
For out of the deepest shade of the dark thicket in front of the children, a wonderful brightness began to shine, playing like moonlight over the leaves that trembled as if in joy. Then through the whispering trees came a sweet musical note, like the sound of a harp. The children lay motionless with awe. All their sorrow passed awayfrom them, and tender, happy tears rose into their eyes.
As the radiance streamed brighter and brighter through the bushes, and the marvellous music grew louder and louder, the children’s hearts beat high. They gazed eagerly at the brightness. Then they saw, smiling at them from the thicket, the most beautiful face of a child, with the sun beaming on it in splendour.
“Oh! come to us!—Come to us!—darling Shining Child!” cried Fanchon and Frederic, stretching out their arms; and their hearts were filled with an indescribable longing.
“I am coming! I am coming!” a sweet voice cried from the bushes.
And then, as if borne on the wings of the breeze, the Stranger Child seemed to float hovering toward Fanchon and Frederic.
“What is the matter, dear children?” asked the Stranger Child. “I heard you crying and lamenting, and I was very sorry for you! What do you want?”
“Ah!” said Frederic, “we did not know what we wanted; but now I see that we wantedyou—just you yourself!”
“That’s it!” chimed in Fanchon. “Now that you are with us, we are happy again! Why were you so long in coming?”
In fact both children felt as if they had known and played with the Stranger Child all their lives, and that their unhappiness had been because their beloved playmate was not with them.
“You see,” Frederic added, “we have no toys left, for I, like a stupid dolt, broke all our fine things, and shied them into the thicket.”
At this the Stranger Child laughed merrily, and cried: “Why, Fanchon and Frederic, you are lying this minute among the loveliest playthings that ever were seen!”
“Where?—Where are they?” Fanchon and Frederic both cried.
“Look around you,” said the Stranger Child.
Then Fanchon and Frederic saw how out of the thick grass and moss all sorts of glorious flowers were peeping, with bright eyes gleaming. And between them many coloured stones and crystal shells sparkled and shone. While little golden insects danced up and down humming gentle songs.
“Now we will build a palace!” said the Stranger Child. “Help me to get the stones together.” And it stooped down and began to pick up stones of many pretty colours.
Fanchon and Frederic helped, and the StrangerChild placed the beautiful stones one upon another, and soon there rose tall pillars shining in the sun, while an airy golden roof stretched itself from pillar to pillar. Then the Stranger Child kissed the flowers that were peeping from the grass, and whispered to them lovingly, and they shot up higher and higher, and, twining together, formed sweet-scented arbours and covered walks in which the children danced about, full of delight and gladness.
The Stranger Child clapped its hands, and immediately the golden roof, that was made of insects’ golden wings, fell to pieces with a hum, and the pillars melted away into a splashing silver stream, on whose banks flowers grew and peeped into the water.
Then the Stranger Child plucked little blades of grass and gathered twigs from trees, strewing them on the ground before Fanchon and Frederic. The blades of grass turned into the prettiest little live dolls ever seen, and the twigs became gay little huntsmen.
The dolls danced around Fanchon, and let her take them in her lap, and they whispered in such delicate little voices: “Be kind to us! Love us, dear Fanchon.”
The huntsmen shouted: “Halloa! Halloa! the hunt’s up!” and blew their horns, and bustled about. Then tiny hares came darting outof the bushes, with tiny dogs after them, and the huntsmen pursued them with shouts. This was delightful!
Then suddenly these wonders disappeared. And Fanchon and Frederic cried out: “What has become of the dolls? Where are the huntsmen?”
The Stranger Child answered: “Oh, they are always here waiting for you! They are close beside you, so you may have them at any minute. But just now would you not rather go with me through the wood?”
“Oh, yes! yes!” cried Fanchon and Frederic.
The Stranger Child took hold of their hands, crying: “Come! Come!”
And with that off they went! The children felt themselves floating along lightly and easily, through the trees; while all the birds flew fluttering beside them, singing and warbling their sweetest songs. Then suddenly up they soared into the air. Higher and higher they mounted like birds, skimming above the tops of the trees. Frederic shouted with delight, but Fanchon was frightened.
“Oh, my breath is going! I shall tumble!” she cried.
And just at that moment the Stranger Child let them down gently to the ground, and said: “Now I shall sound my Forest-Song. Then good-bye for to-day.”
And the Stranger Child took out a little horn of wreathed gold, and began to sound it so beautifully that the whole wood reëchoed wondrously with its lovely music; while a host of nightingales came flocking to the branches above the children’s heads, and sang their most melodious songs.
But all at once the music grew fainter and fainter, and only a soft whispering seemed to come from the thicket into which the Stranger Child had vanished.
“To-morrow! To-morrow! I will come again!” the children heard breathed gently as if from a distance. Then they sighed with joy, for, though they could not understand it, never had they known such happiness in all their lives.
“Oh! I wish it was to-morrow, now!” they both cried, as they hastened home to their parents.
“I should fancy that the children had dreamed all this,” said the Count to his wife, when Fanchon and Frederic, who could think of nothing else but the Stranger Child, and the wonderful events, and the exquisite music, had told all that had happened. “I should fancy that they haddreamed all this, if they had not both seen the same things! I cannot get to the bottom of it all!”
“Don’t bother your head about it, my dear,” answered his wife. “I think this Stranger Child was nobody but the schoolmaster’s son from the village. We must take care that he is not allowed to put any more such nonsense into the children’s heads.”
But the Count could not agree with her, for he called the children to him again, to tell how the Stranger Child was dressed and looked. Fanchon and Frederic both agreed that its face was fair as lilies, that it had cheeks like roses, cherry lips, bright blue eyes, and locks of gold; and that it was more beautiful than words could tell.
But what they said about its dress sounded absurd. For Fanchon said that its dress was wondrous beautiful, shining and gleaming, as if made of the petals of flowers; while Frederic insisted that its garments were of sparkling golden-green, like spring-leaves in the sunshine.
And Frederic thought that the Stranger Child was a boy; while Fanchon was sure that it was a girl. And these contradictions confused their parents; and the Count shook his head wonderingly.
The next day, Fanchon and Frederic hastenedto the wood, and found the Stranger Child waiting for them. If their play had been glorious the day before, it was ten times more glorious to-day; for the Stranger Child did such marvellous things that Fanchon and Frederic shouted for joy.
While they played, the Stranger Child talked sweetly to the trees, flowers, and birds, and to the brook that ran through the wood; and they all answered so clearly that Fanchon and Frederic understood everything they said.
“Dear children!” cried the Alder-thicket, “why were you not here early, when my friend the Morning Breeze came rustling over the blue hills, and brought us thousands of greetings and kisses from the Golden Queen of the Dawn, and plenty of wing-waftings full of sweet perfumes!”
“Oh silence!” the flowers broke in. “Do not mention that robber, the Morning Breeze! Does he not steal our perfumes! Never mind the Alders, children, let them lisp and whisper. Listen to us! We love you so! We dress ourselves in the loveliest colours just for you!”
“And do we not loveyou, you beautiful flowers!” said the Stranger Child tenderly.
But Fanchon knelt down on the grass, and stretched out her arms, as if she would take all the bright flowers to her heart, and cried: “Ah! I love you! I love you every one!”
Then came a sighing out of the tall dark firtrees, and they said: “We shade the flowers from the hot sun, and shelter human children when the storm comes rushing through the woods, but who loves us in return?”
“Groan and sigh,” cried Frederic, “and murmur as much as you like, you green giants that you are! It is then that the real woodsman’s heart rejoices in you! I love all, the green bushes, the flowers, and you trees!”
“You are quite right!” splashed the brook as it sparkled over its stones. “Come sit down among this moss, dear children, and listen to me. I come from afar; out of a deep, cool, dark rock I gush. Look into my waves, and I will show you the loveliest pictures in my clear mirror, the blue of the sky, the fleecy clouds, bushes, trees, and blossoms; and your very selves, dear children, I draw tenderly into my transparent bosom!”
“Fanchon and Frederic,” said the Stranger Child, looking around with wondrous blissfulness. “Only listen how they all love us! But the redness of evening is rising behind the hills, and the nightingale is calling me home!”
“Oh, but first let us fly a little, as we did yesterday!” begged Frederic.
“Yes,” said Fanchon, “but not quite so high. It makes my head giddy.”
Then the Stranger Child took them each by the hand again, and they went soaring up into the golden purple of the evening sky, while the birds crowded and sang around them.
Among the shining clouds, Frederic saw, as if in wavering flame, beautiful castles all of rubies and other precious stones.
“Look! Look! Fanchon!” he cried, full of rapture. “Look at those splendid palaces! Let us fly along as fast as we can, and we shall soon get to them.”
Fanchon, too, saw the castles, and forgot her fear, and kept looking upward.
“Those are my beloved castles-in-the-air,” the Stranger Child said. “But we must go no farther to-day!”
Fanchon and Frederic seemed to be in a dream, and could not make out how they suddenly came to find themselves with their father and mother.
It was the next day. In the most beautiful part of the wood beside the brook, between whispering bushes, the Stranger Child had set up a glorious tent made of tall slender lilies, glowing roses, and tulips of every hue. And beneath this tent, Fanchon and Frederic were seated with the Stranger Child, listening to the forest brook asit whirled, and rippled, and sang its wonderful stories.
“Tell us,” said Fanchon, “darling Shining Child, where your home is, and all about your father and mother.”
The Stranger Child looked sorrowfully at the sky. “Ah, my dear,” it said with a sigh, “is it not enough that I come to you each day? Why must you then ask about my home? Though you were to travel day after day, forever and ever, even to beyond the utmost range of the purple hills, you could not reach it!”
“Ah me!” sighed Fanchon. “Then you must live hundreds and hundreds of miles away from us! Is it only on a visit that you are here?”
“Fanchon, beloved,” said the Stranger Child, “whenever you long for me with all your heart, I am with you immediately, bringing you all those plays and wonders. Is that not as good as being in my home?”
“Not at all,” said Frederic, “for I believe that you live in a most glorious place. I do not care how hard the road is to your home, I mean to set out this minute for it.”
“And so you shall!” said the Stranger Child smiling; “for when you see all this so clearly before you, and make up your mind to be there, it is as good as done! The land where I live, in truth, is so beautiful and glorious that I can giveyou no description of it. It is my mother who reigns over that land,—all glory and loveliness—as Queen.”
“Ah! you are a Prince!” cried Frederic.
“Ah! you are a Princess!” cried Fanchon.
“I certainly am,” said the Stranger Child. “My mother’s palace is far more beautiful than those glittering castles you saw in the evening clouds. For the gleaming pillars of her palace are of the purest crystal, and they soar slender and tall into the blue of heaven. Upon them rests a great, wide blue canopy. Beneath the canopy sail the shining white clouds, hither and thither on golden wings. And the red of the evening and the morning rises and falls, and the sparkling stars dance in a singing circle around her palace.
“You have heard of the Fairies who can bring about great wonders. My mother is Queen of the Fairies. Very often she holds a feast for little children. It is then that the Elves, belonging to my mother’s Kingdom, fly through the air weaving shining rainbows from one end of her palace to the other. Under these rainbows they build my mother’s diamond throne,—that in appearance and perfume is like lilies, roses, and carnations.
“My mother takes her place upon the throne, and the Elves sing, and play on golden harps. As soon as their music begins, everything in thepalace and in the woods and gardens, moves and sings. And all around there are thousands of beautiful little children in charming dresses, shouting with delight.
“The children chase each other among the golden trees, and throw blossoms at each other. They climb the trees where the wind swings and rocks them. They gather gold-glittering fruit, and they play with tame deer and other gentle wild creatures, that come bounding up to them and lick their hands. Then the children run up and down the rainbows; or they ride on the backs of great Purple Birds that fly up among the gleaming clouds.
“How delightful that must be!” cried Fanchon and Frederic, with rapture. “Oh! take us with you to your home, beautiful Shining Child! We want to stay there always!”
“That may not be,” said the Stranger Child.
And Fanchon and Frederic cast down their eyes sadly to the ground.
“Ah,” said the Stranger Child, “you might not be so happy at my mother’s Court. Indeed, it would be a great misfortune for you to try to go to her Kingdom. There are many children who cannot bear the singing of the Purple Birds,and, if they hear their songs, they die. Then too, destruction might overtake you before you could reach my mother’s Court. Even I am not safe on my way thither.
“There was a time when I was safe anywhere. But now a bitter enemy of my mother, whom she banished from her Kingdom, goes raging about the world; and I cannot be safe from being watched, pursued, and molested. Powerless as this bitter enemy is when I am at home, nothing can protect me from him, when I am flying abroad.”
“What sort of a hateful creature is it,” asked Fanchon, “that can do you so much harm?”
“I have told you,” said the Stranger Child, “that my mother is the Fairy Queen. Among her many Elves are some who hover in the sky, or dwell in the waters, and others who serve at the Fairy Court. Once, a long while ago, there came among those that served at Court, a stranger who called himself Papillon. He said that he was learned in all the sciences of the world, and could accomplish great things among us. My mother made him prime minister.
“Papillon soon showed his natural spite and wickedness. He pretended to the Queen that he loved children and could make them very happy. But instead of doing so, he hung himself like a weight of lead on the tails of the Purple Birds, so that they could not fly aloft. And when thechildren climbed the rose-trees, he dragged them down by the legs. Then he knocked their noses on the ground, and made them bleed. When the children sang, he crammed all sorts of nasty stuff down their throats; for sweet and happy singing he could not abide. And worst of all, he had a way of smearing the sparkling precious stones of the palace, and the lilies and roses, and even the shining rainbows, with a horrible black juice, so that everything beautiful became sorrowful or dead.
“And when he had done all this, he gave a loud hissing laugh, and said that everything was now as he wished it to be. Then, shouting that he was greater than my mother, he went flying up into the air, in the shape of an enormous fly with flashing eyes, and a long snout. After which he went humming and buzzing around my mother’s throne, in a most abominable fashion.
“When the Queen my mother and her Elves saw this, they knew that he had come among them under a false name, and that he was none other than Mouche, the gloomy King of the Gnomes. The entire Fairy Court thereupon rushed against him beating him with their wings, while the Purple Birds seized him with their glittering beaks and gripped him so tightly that he screamed with agony and rage. After which the birds shook him violently, and threw himdown to the earth. He fell straight onto the back of his old Aunt, who was a great blue toad. And she carried him off to her hole.
“But five hundred of the children in the Fairy Court armed themselves with fly-flappers, to defend themselves against Mouche if he should ever venture to return. Now after he was gone, all the black juice disappeared, and everything became as shining and glorious as before.
“So you see, dear Children,” continued the Stranger Child, “what kind of a creature I have to fear. This horrible Mouche follows me about, and, if I did not hide myself quickly, he would injure me. And I assure you that if I were to take you with me to my home, Mouche would lie in wait for us, and kill us.”
Fanchon wept bitterly at the danger to which the Stranger Child was exposed. But Frederic said: “If that horrible Mouche is nothing but a great fly, I’ll soon hit him with father’s big fly-flapper! And if once I give him a good crack on his nose, Aunty Blue Toad will have a job carrying him to her hole again!”
Fanchon and Frederic ran home as fast as they could, shouting as they went:—
“Oh! the Shining Child is a beautiful Princess!”
“Oh! the Shining Child is a beautiful Prince!”
They wanted, in their delight, to tell this to their parents, but their father came to meet them with a most extraordinary man walking by his side. This stranger kept muttering to himself:—
“What a nice pair of stupids these are! Ah! Ah!”
The Count took him by the hand, and said to the children: “This gentleman is the tutor whom your kind Cousin has sent to teach you. So now shake hands with him, and bid him welcome.”
But the children looked sidewise at him, and could move neither hand nor foot. This was because they had never seen such an extraordinary being. He was no taller than Frederic. His body was round and bloated, and his little weazen legs could hardly support its weight. His head was queer and square, and his face too ugly for anything, for not only was his nose long and pointed, but his little bulging eyes glittered, and his wide mouth was opened in a ferocious way. He was clad in black from top to toe, and his name was Tutor Ink.
Now, as the children stood staring like stone images, their mother cried out angrily: “You rude children, what are you thinking of? Come! come! give the tutor your hands.”
The children, taking heart, did as their mother bade them. But as soon as Tutor Ink took hold of their hands, they jumped back, screaming: “Oh! Oh! It hurts!”
The tutor laughed aloud, and showed a needle, which he had hidden in his hand to prick the children with. Fanchon was weeping; but Frederic growled. “Just try that again, little Big-Body, if you dare!”
“Why did you do that, Tutor Ink?” asked the Count, somewhat annoyed.
“Well, it’s just my way!” answered Tutor Ink; “I can’t alter it!” and with that he stuck his hands to his sides, and went on laughing until his voice sounded like the noise of a broken rattle.
Alas! after that there was no more running about in the wood! Instead the children, day after day, had to sit in the house, repeating after Tutor Ink strange gibberish, not one word of which they could understand.
With what longing eyes they looked at the wood! Often they thought they heard, amidst the happy songs of the birds and the rustling of the trees, the voice of the Stranger Child, calling, and calling: “Fanchon! Frederic! Are you not coming to play with me? Oh, come! I have made you a palace all of flowers! We will play there, and I will give you all sorts ofbeautiful stones! And then we’ll fly through the air, and build cloud-castles! Come! Oh, come!”
At this the children’s thoughts were so drawn to the wood, that they neither heard nor saw their tutor any longer; although he thumped on the table with both his fists, and hummed, and growled, and snarled.
At last one day the Count perceived how pale the children were getting, and bade Tutor Ink take them for a walk. The Tutor did not like the idea at all. And the children did not like it either, saying:—
“What business has Tutor Ink in our darling wood?”
“Well, Tutor Ink, is it not delightful here in our wood?” asked Frederic.
Tutor Ink made a face, and muttered: “Stupid nonsense! All one does is to tear his stockings! One can’t hear a word because of the abominable screeching of the birds!”
“But surely you love the flowers?” Fanchon chimed in.
At this Tutor Ink’s face became a deep cherry-colour, and he beat his hands about him, crying:“Stupid nonsense! Ridiculous nonsense! There are no decent flowers in this wood!”
“But don’t you see those dear little Lilies-of-the-valley peeping up at you with such bright loving eyes?” asked Fanchon.
“What! What!” the Tutor screamed. “Flowers!—eyes?—Ha! Ha!—Nice eyes!—Useless things!” And with that he stooped, and plucking up a handful of the lilies, roots and all, threw them into the thicket.
Fanchon could not help shedding bitter tears, and Frederic gnashed his teeth in anger. Just then a little Robin alighted on a branch near the Tutor’s head, and began to sing sweetly. The Tutor, picking up a stone, threw it, and the bird fell dying to the ground.
Frederic could restrain himself no longer. “You horrible Tutor Ink!” he cried, “what did the little bird do to you, that you should strike it dead?” And looking toward the thicket, he called sadly: “Oh! where are you, beautiful Shining Child? Oh, come! Only come! Let us fly far, far away! I cannot stay beside this horrible creature any longer.”
And Fanchon, stretching out her hands, sobbed and wept bitterly. “Oh, you darling Shining Child,” she cried. “Come to us! Come to us! Save us! Save us! Tutor Ink is killing us, as he is killing the flowers and birds!”
“What do you mean by the Shining Child?” snarled Tutor Ink.
But at that instant there was a loud whispering, and a rustling, in the thicket, and a sound as of muffled drums tolling in the distance. Then the children saw, in a shining cloud that floated above them, the beautiful face of the Stranger Child, and tears like glittering pearls were rolling down its rosy cheeks.
“Ah! darling playmates!” it cried. “I cannot come to you any more! Farewell! Farewell! The Gnome Mouche has you in his power! Oh! you poor children, good-bye! good-bye!”
And then the Stranger Child soared up far into the clouds. And the most marvellous thing happened! Behind the children there began a most horrid, fearsome buzzing and humming, snarling and growling, and, lo! Tutor Ink had changed into an enormous frightful-looking fly. And he began to fly upward heavily, following the Stranger Child.
Fanchon and Frederic, overpowered with terror, ran out of the wood, and did not dare to look up at the sky until they had got some distance away. And, then, when they did so, all that they could see, was a shining speck in the clouds, glittering like a star, and coming nearer and downward.
The star grew bigger and bigger, and the childrencould hear, as if it were, the call of a trumpet; and presently they saw that the star was really a splendid bird with shining purple plumage. It came dropping down to the wood, clapping its mighty wings, and singing loud and clear.
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted Frederic. “That is a Purple Bird from the Fairy Court! He will bite Tutor Ink to death! The Shining Child is saved!—and so are we! Come, Fanchon, let us get home as fast as we can, and tell our father about it.”
The children burst into the house where their parents were sitting.
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” Frederic shouted. “The Purple Bird has bitten Tutor Ink to death!”
“Oh, Father dear, Mother dear!” cried Fanchon. “Tutor Ink is not Tutor Ink at all! He is really the wicked Mouche, King of the Gnomes; a monstrous fly, but a fly with clothes and shoes and stockings on!”
“Who on earth has been putting such nonsense into your heads?” asked the Countess.
And the parents gazed at the children in utter amazement, while they went oh to tell about the Stranger Child whose mother was a great FairyQueen, and about the Gnome King, Mouche, and the Purple Bird.
The Count grew very grave and thoughtful. “Frederic,” said he, “you are really a sensible boy, and I must admit that Tutor Ink has always seemed to me a strange mysterious creature. Your mother and I are by no means satisfied with him, particularly your mother. He has such a terrible sweet-tooth, that there’s no way of keeping him from the sugar and jams. And, then, he hums and buzzes in such a distressing manner. But in spite of all this, my dear boy, just think calmly for a minute. Even if there are such things as Gnomes in the world, do you really mean to say that your Tutor has become a fly?”
Frederic looked his father steadily in the face with his clear blue eyes, then said:—
“I should not have believed it myself, if the Stranger Child had not said so, and if I had not seen with my own eyes that he is only a horrible fly, and pretends to be Tutor Ink. And then,” continued Frederic, while his father shook his head in wonder, “see what Mother says about him. Is he not ravenous for sweet things? Is that not just like a fly? And then his hummings and buzzings.”
“Silence,” cried the Count. “Whatever Tutor Ink is, one thing is certain, the Purple Bird hasnot bitten him to death! for there he comes out of the wood!”
At this the children uttered loud screams, and rushed behind the door. In truth, Tutor Ink was approaching, but he was wild-looking and bewildered. He was buzzing and humming, and springing high in the air, first to one side, then to the other, and banging his head against the trees. He tumbled into the house, and dashed at the milk-jug, and popped his head into it so that the milk ran over the sides. Then he gulped and gulped, making a horrid noise of swallowing.
“What ails you, Tutor Ink?” cried the Countess. “What are you about?”
“Are you out of your senses?” asked the Count. “Is the foul fiend after you?”
But without making any answer, Tutor Ink, taking his mouth from the milk-jug, threw himself down on the dish of butter, and began to lick it with his pointed tongue. Then, with a loud buzzing, he sprang off the table and began to stagger hither and thither about the room, as though he was drunk.
“This is pretty behaviour!” cried the Count, as he tried to seize Tutor Ink by the coat tails; but Tutor Ink managed to elude him deftly.
Just then Frederic came running up with his father’s big fly-flapper in his hand, and gave it to the Count, crying:—
“Here you are, Father! Knock the terrible Mouche to death!”
The Count took the fly-flapper; and then they all set to work to drive away Tutor Ink. Fanchon and Frederic and their mother took table napkins, and made sweeps with them in the air, driving the Tutor backward and forward, here and there, while the Count kept striking at him with the fly-flapper.
Wilder and wilder grew the chase. “Hum! Hum!” and “Sum! Sum!” went the Tutor, storming hither and thither. “Flip! Flap!” and “Clip! Clap!” went the table napkins and fly-flapper.
At last the Count managed to hit the Tutor’s coat tails. Then just as the Count was going to strike a second time, up bounced the Tutor into the air, and, with renewed strength, stormed, humming and buzzing, out of the door, and away among the trees.
“Well done!” exclaimed the Count. “We are rid of that abominable Tutor Ink! Never shall he cross my threshold again!”
Fanchon and Frederic now breathed freely once more. A great weight was taken off their hearts. They rejoiced that now, since the wicked Mouchewas gone, the Stranger Child might come back. They hurried to the wood. Everything was silent and deserted. Not a merry note of a single bird was there. Instead of the joyous singing of the brook, and the gladsome rustling of the leaves, they seemed to hear sighs and moans that passed through the air. Just then, close behind them, snarling voices cried out:—
“Stupid creatures! Senseless creatures! You despised us! You did not know how to treat us! We are come back to punish you!”
Fanchon and Frederic looked around, and saw the little hunter and the harper rise out of the thicket. The harper twanged his tiny harp, while the hunter took aim at Frederic; and both cried out:—
“Wait, you boy and girl! We are obedient servants of Tutor Ink! He will be here in a moment, and then we’ll pay you well for despising us!”
Terrified, the children turned to run away, when the doll rose up out of the thicket, and squeaked out:—
“Stupid creatures! Senseless creatures! I am an obedient servant of Tutor Ink! He will be here in a moment, and then I’ll pay you well for despising me!” And with that the naughty creature sent great splashes of muddy water flying at Fanchon and Frederic, so that they were quite wet.
Then the children fell on their knees sobbing: “Oh, how unfortunate we are! Will no one take pity on us!”
Scarcely had they said thus, when the playthings disappeared. The rushing of the brook turned to the sweetest music. All the wood streamed with a wonderful sparkling light. And, lo! the Stranger Child came forth from the thicket, surrounded by such brilliant rays that Fanchon and Frederic had to shut their eyes for a minute.
Then they felt themselves touched gently, and the Stranger Child’s sweet voice said:—
“Oh, do not mourn for me, dear playmates! Though you will not see me again, still I shall be near you. Neither the wicked Mouche nor any other Gnome shall have power to harm you. Only go on loving me faithfully.”
“That we shall! that we shall! dear Shining Child!” the children cried. “We love you with all our hearts!”
And at last when they could open their eyes, the Stranger Child had vanished; and all their grief and fear were gone, too. Delight beamed in their eyes and shone in their cheeks.
And what the Stranger Child had said, came to pass. Nothing ever harmed Fanchon and Frederic. They grew up handsome, clever, and sweet-tempered; and all that they undertookprospered. And as the years went on, they still, in their dreams, played with the Stranger Child, who never ceased to bring them the loveliest things from its Fairy Home.
Adapted