Why do you give to the ogreYour child, so fair, so fair?
Why do you give to the ogreYour child, so fair, so fair?
‘You had better ask her,’ replied the man, ‘she is old enough to give you an answer.’
Then, in her turn, Thakané sang:
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
And when the rabbit heard that, he cried: ‘Wretchedman! it is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.’
The herd questions the father about his daughter
But the father paid no heed to what the rabbit said, and only walked on the faster, bidding Thakané to keep close behind him. By-and-by they met with a troop ofgreat deer, called elands, and they stopped when they saw Thakané and sang:
Why do you give to the ogreYour child, so fair, so fair?
Why do you give to the ogreYour child, so fair, so fair?
‘You had better ask her,’ replied the man, ‘she is old enough to give you an answer.’
Then, in her turn, Thakané sang:
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
And the elands all cried: ‘Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.’
By this time it was nearly dark, and the father said they could travel no further that night, and must go to sleep where they were. Thakané was thankful indeed when she heard this, for she was very tired, and found the two skins fastened round her almost too heavy to carry. So, in spite of her dread of the ogre, she slept till dawn, when her father woke her, and told her roughly that he was ready to continue their journey.
Crossing the plain, the girl and her father passed a herd of gazelles feeding. They lifted their heads, wondering who was out so early, and when they caught sight of Thakané, they sang:
Why do you give to the ogreYour child, so fair, so fair?
Why do you give to the ogreYour child, so fair, so fair?
‘You had better ask her,’ replied the man, ‘she is old enough to answer for herself.’
Then, in her turn, Thakané sang:
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
And the gazelles all cried: ‘Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.’
At last they arrived at the village where the ogre lived, and they went straight to his hut. He was nowhere to be seen, but in his place was his son Masilo, who was not an ogre at all, but a very polite young man. He ordered his servants to bring a pile of skins for Thakané to sit on, but told her father he must sit on the ground. Then, catching sight of the girl’s face, which she had kept bent down, he was struck by its beauty, and put the same question that the rabbit, and the elands, and the gazelles had done.
Thakané answered him as before, and he instantly commanded that she should be taken to the hut of his mother, and placed under her care, while the man should be led to his father. Directly the ogre saw him he bade the servant throw him into the great pot which always stood ready on the fire, and in five minutes he was done to a turn. After that the servant returned to Masilo and related all that had happened.
Now Masilo had fallen in love with Thakané the moment he saw her. At first he did not know what to make of this strange feeling, for all his life he had hated women, and had refused several brides whom his parents had chosen for him. However, they were so anxious that he should marry, that they willingly accepted Thakané as their daughter-in-law, though she did not bring any marriage portion with her.
After some time a baby was born to her, and Thakané thought it was the most beautiful baby that ever was seen. But when her mother-in-law saw it was a girl, she wrung her hands and wept, saying:
‘O miserable mother! Miserable child! Alas for you! why were you not a boy!’
Thakané, in great surprise, asked the meaning of her distress; and the old woman told her that it was thecustom in that country that all the girls who were born should be given to the ogre to eat.
Then Thakané clasped the baby tightly in her arms, and cried:
‘But it is not the custom inmycountry! There, when children die, they are buried in the earth. No one shall take my baby from me.’
That night, when everyone in the hut was asleep, Thakané rose, and carrying her baby on her back, went down to a place where the river spread itself out into a large lake, with tall willows all round the bank. Here, hidden from everyone, she sat down on a stone and began to think what she should do to save her child.
Suddenly she heard a rustling among the willows, and an old woman appeared before her.
‘What are you crying for, my dear?’ said she.
And Thakané answered: ‘I was crying for my baby—I cannot hide her for ever, and if the ogre sees her, he will eat her; and I would rather she was drowned than that.’
‘What you say is true,’ replied the old woman. ‘Give me your child, and let me take care of it. And if you will fix a day to meet me here I will bring the baby.’
Then Thakané dried her eyes, and gladly accepted the old woman’s offer. When she got home she told her husband she had thrown it in the river, and as he had watched her go in that direction he never thought of doubting what she said.
On the appointed day, Thakané slipped out when everybody was busy, and ran down the path that led to the lake. As soon as she got there, she crouched down among the willows, and sang softly:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
And in a moment the old woman appeared holding the baby in her arms. Dilah had become so big and strong,that Thakané’s heart was filled with joy and gratitude, and she stayed as long as she dared, playing with her baby. At last she felt she must return to the village, lest she should be missed, and the child was handed back to the old woman, who vanished with her into the lake.
Children grow up very quickly when they live under water, and in less time than anyone could suppose, Dilah had changed from a baby to a woman. Her mother came to visit her whenever she was able, and one day, when they were sitting talking together, they were spied out by a man who had come to cut willows to weave into baskets. He was so surprised to see how like the face of the girl was to Masilo, that he left his work and returned to the village.
‘Masilo,’ he said, as he entered the hut, ‘I have just beheld your wife near the river with a girl who must be your daughter, she is so like you. We have been deceived, for we all thought she was dead.’
When he heard this, Masilo tried to look shocked because his wife had broken the law; but in his heart he was very glad.
‘But what shall we do now?’ asked he.
‘Make sure for yourself that I am speaking the truth by hiding among the bushes the first time Thakané says she is going to bathe in the river, and waiting till the girl appears.’
For some days Thakané stayed quietly at home, and her husband began to think that the man had been mistaken; but at last she said to her husband: ‘I am going to bathe in the river.’
The old woman brings Dilah to her mother
‘Well, you can go,’ answered he. But he ran down quickly by another path, and got there first, and hid himself in the bushes. An instant later, Thakané arrived, and standing on the bank, she sang:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
Then the old woman came out of the water, holding the girl, now tall and slender, by the hand. And as Masilo looked, he saw that she was indeed his daughter, and he wept for joy that she was not lying dead in the bottom of the lake. The old woman, however, seemed uneasy, and said to Thakané: ‘I feel as if someone was watching us. I will not leave the girl to-day, but will take her back with me’; and sinking beneath the surface, she drew the girl after her. After they had gone, Thakanéreturned to the village, which Masilo had managed to reach before her.
All the rest of the day he sat in a corner weeping, and his mother who came in asked: ‘Why are you weeping so bitterly, my son?’
‘My head aches,’ he answered; ‘it aches very badly.’ And his mother passed on, and left him alone.
In the evening he said to his wife: ‘I have seen my daughter, in the place where you told me you had drowned her. Instead, she lives at the bottom of the lake, and has now grown into a young woman.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ replied Thakané. ‘I buried my child under the sand on the beach.’
Then Masilo implored her to give the child back to him; but she would not listen, and only answered: ‘If I were to give her back you would only obey the laws of your country and take her to your father, the ogre, and she would be eaten.’
But Masilo promised that he would never let his father see her, and that now she was a woman no one would try to hurt her; so Thakané’s heart melted, and she went down to the lake to consult the old woman.
‘What am I to do?’ she asked, when, after clapping her hands, the old woman appeared before her. ‘Yesterday Masilo beheld Dilah, and ever since he has entreated me to give him back his daughter.’
‘If I let her go he must pay me a thousand head of cattle in exchange,’ replied the old woman. And Thakané carried her answer back to Masilo.
‘Why, I would gladly give her two thousand!’ cried he, ‘for she has saved my daughter.’ And he bade messengers hasten to all the neighbouring villages, and tell his people to send him at once all the cattle he possessed. When they were all assembled he chose a thousand of the finest bulls and cows, and drove them down to theriver, followed by a great crowd wondering what would happen.
Then Thakané stepped forward in front of the cattle and sang:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
And Dilah came from the waters holding out her hands to Masilo and Thakané, and in her place the cattle sank into the lake, and were driven by the old woman to the great city filled with people, which lies at the bottom.
[Contes Populaires des Bassoutos.]
One day a wolverine was out walking on the hillside, when, on turning a corner, he suddenly saw a large rock.
‘Was that you I heard walking about just now?’ he asked, for wolverines are cautious animals, and always like to know the reasons of things.
‘No, certainly not,’ answered the rock; ‘I don’t know how to walk.’
‘But Isawyou walking,’ continued the wolverine.
‘I am afraid that you were not taught to speak the truth,’ retorted the rock.
‘You need not speak like that, for I haveseenyou walking,’ replied the wolverine, ‘though I am quite sure that you could never catchme!’ and he ran a little distance and then stopped to see if the rock was pursuing him; but, to his vexation, the rock was still in the same place. Then the wolverine went up close, and struck the rock a blow with his paw, saying: ‘Well, will you catch menow?’
‘I can’t walk, but I canroll,’ answered the rock.
And the wolverine laughed and said: ‘Oh, that will do just as well’; and began to run down the side of the mountain.
At first he went quite slowly, ‘just to give the rock a chance,’ he thought to himself; but soon he quickened his pace, for he found that the rock was almost at his heels. But the faster the wolverine ran, the faster the rock rolled, and by-and-by the little creature began to get very tired, and was sorry he had not left the rock to itself. Thinkingthat if he could manage to put on a spurt he would reach the forest of great trees at the bottom of the mountain, where the rock could not come, he gathered up all his strength, and instead of running he leaped over sticks and stones, but, whatever he did, the rock was always close behind him. At length he grew so weary that he could not even see where he was going, and catching his foot in a branch he tripped and fell. The rock stopped at once, but there came a shriek from the wolverine:
‘Get off, get off! can’t you see that you are on my legs?’
The animals heave at the rock
‘Why did you not leave me alone?’ asked the rock. ‘I did not want to move—I hate moving. But youwouldhave it, and I certainly sha’n’t move now till I am forced to.’
‘I will call my brothers,’ answered the wolverine. ‘There are many of them in the forest, and you will soon see that they are stronger than you.’ And he called, and called, and called, till wolves and foxes and all sorts of other creatures all came running to see what was the matter.
‘Howdidyou get under that rock?’ asked they, making a ring round him; but they had to repeat their question several times before the wolverine would answer, for he, like many other persons, found it hard to confess that he had brought his troubles on himself.
‘Well, I was dull, and wanted someone to play with me,’ he said at last, in a sulky voice, ‘and I challenged the rock to catch me. Of course I thought I could run the fastest; but I tripped, and it rolled on me. It was just an accident.’
‘It serves you right for being so silly,’ said they; but they pushed and hauled at the rock for a long time without making it move an inch.
‘You are no good at all,’ cried the wolverine crossly, for it was suffering great pain, ‘and if you cannot get me free, I shall see what my friends the lightning and the thunder can do.’ And he called loudly to the lightning to come and help him as quickly as possible.
In a few minutes a dark cloud came rolling up the sky, giving out such terrific claps of thunder that the wolves and the foxes and all the other creatures ran helter-skelter in all directions. But, frightened though they were, they did not forget to beg the lightning to take off the wolverine’s coat and to free his legs, but to be careful not to hurt him. So the lightning disappeared into the cloud for a moment to gather up fresh strength, and then came rushing down, right upon the rock, which it sent flying in all directions, and took off the wolverine’s coat so neatly that, though it was torn into tiny shreds, the wolverine himself was quite unharmed.
‘That was rather clumsy of you,’ said he, standing up naked in his flesh. ‘Surely you could have split the rock without tearing my coat to bits!’ And he stooped down to pick up the pieces. It took him a long time, for there were a great many of them, but at last he had them all in his hand.
‘I’ll go to my sister the frog,’ he thought to himself, ‘and she will sew them together for me’; and he set off at once for the swamp in which his sister lived.
‘Will you sew my coat together? I had an unlucky accident, and it is quite impossible to wear,’ he said, when he found her.
‘With pleasure,’ she answered, for she had always been taught to be polite; and getting her needle and thread she began to fit the pieces. But though she was very good-natured, she was not very clever, and she got some of the bits wrong. When the wolverine, who was very particular about his clothes, came to put it on, he grew very angry.
‘What a useless creature you are!’ cried he. ‘Do you expect me to go about in such a coat as that? Why it bulges all down the back, as if I had a hump, and it is so tight across the chest that I expect it to burst every time I breathe. I knew you were stupid, but I did not think you were as stupid as that.’ And giving the poor frog a blow on her head, which knocked her straight into the water, he walked off in a rage to his younger sister the mouse.
‘I tore my coat this morning,’ he began, when he had found her sitting at the door of her house eating an apple. ‘It was all in little bits, and I took it to our sister the frog to ask her to sew it for me. But just look at the way she has done it! You will have to take it to pieces and fit them together properly, and I hope I shall not have to complain again.’ For as the wolverine was older than the mouse, he was accustomed to speak to her in this manner. However, the mouse was used to it andonly answered: ‘I think you had better stay here till it is done, and if there is any alteration needed I can make it.’ So the wolverine sat down on a heap of dry ferns, and, picking up the apple, he finished it without even asking the mouse’s leave.
At last the coat was ready, and the wolverine put it on.
‘Yes, it fits very well,’ said he, ‘and you have sewn it very neatly. When I pass this way again I will bring you a handful of corn, as a reward’; and he ran off as smart as ever, leaving the mouse quite grateful behind him.
He wandered about for many days, till he reached a place where food was very scarce, and for a whole week he went without any. He was growing desperate, when he suddenly came upon a bear that was lying asleep. ‘Ah! here is food at last!’ thought he; but how was he to kill the bear, who was so much bigger than himself? It was no use to try force, he must invent some cunning plan which would get her into his power. At last, after thinking hard, he decided upon something, and going up to the bear, he exclaimed: ‘Is that you, my sister?’
The bear turned round and saw the wolverine, and murmuring to herself, so low that nobody could hear, ‘I never heard before that I had a brother,’ got up and ran quickly to a tree, up which she climbed. Now the wolverine was very angry when he saw his dinner vanishing in front of him, especially ashecould not climb trees like the bear, so he followed, and stood at the foot of the tree, shrieking as loud as he could, ‘Come down, sister; our father has sent me to look for you! You were lost when you were a little girl and went out picking berries, and it was only the other day that we heard from a beaver where you were.’ At these words, the bear came a little way down the tree, and the wolverine, seeing this, went on:
‘Are you not fond of berries?Iam! And I know aplace where they grow so thick the ground is quite hidden. Why, look for yourself! That hillside is quite red with them!’
‘I can’t see so far,’ answered the bear, now climbing down altogether. ‘You must have wonderfully good eyes! I wishIhad; but my sight is very short.’
‘So was mine till my father smashed a pailful of cranberries, and rubbed my eyes with them,’ replied the wolverine. ‘But if you like to go and gather some of the berries I will do just as he did, and you will soon be able to see as far as me.’
It took the bear a long while to gather the berries, for she was slow about everything, and, besides, it made her back ache to stoop. But at last she returned with a sackful, and put them down beside the wolverine. ‘That is splendid, sister!’ cried the wolverine. ‘Now lie flat on the ground with your head on this stone, while I smash them.’
The bear, who was very tired, was only too glad to do as she was bid, and stretched herself comfortably on the grass.
‘I am ready now,’ said the wolverine after a bit; ‘just at first you will find that the berries make your eyes smart, but you must be careful not to move, or the juice will run out, and then it will have to be done all over again.’
So the bear promised to lie very still; but the moment the cranberries touched her eyes she sprang up with a roar.
‘Oh, you mustn’t mind a little pain,’ said the wolverine, ‘it will soon be over, and then you will see all sorts of things you have never dreamt of.’ The bear sank down with a groan, and as her eyes were full of cranberry juice, which completely blinded her, the wolverine took up a sharp knife and stabbed her to the heart.
Then he took off the skin, and, stealing some fire from a tent, which his sharp eyes had perceived hidden behinda rock, he set about roasting the bear bit by bit. He thought the meat was the best he ever had tasted, and when dinner was done he made up his mind to try that same trick again, if ever he was hungry.
And very likely he did!
[Adapted fromBureau of Ethnology.]
Once upon a time there lived in Japan a rat and his wife who came of an old and noble race, and had one daughter, the loveliest girl in all the rat world. Her parents were very proud of her, and spared no pains to teach her all she ought to know. There was not another young lady in the whole town who was as clever as she was in gnawing through the hardest wood, or who could drop from such a height on to a bed, or run away so fast if anyone was heard coming. Great attention, too, was paid to her personal appearance, and her skin shone like satin, while her teeth were as white as pearls, and beautifully pointed.
Of course, with all these advantages, her parents expected her to make a brilliant marriage, and, as she grew up, they began to look round for a suitable husband.
But here a difficulty arose. The father was a rat from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, outside as well as in, and desired that his daughter should wed among her own people. She had no lack of lovers, but her father’s secret hopes rested on a fine young rat, with moustaches which almost swept the ground, whose family was still nobler and more ancient than his own. Unluckily, the mother had other views for her precious child. She was one of those people who always despise their own family and surroundings, and take pleasure in thinking that they themselves are made of finer material than the rest of the world. ‘Herdaughter should never marry a mere rat,’ she declared, holding her head high. ‘With her beautyand talents she had a right to look for someone a little better thanthat.’
So she talked, as mothers will, to anyone that would listen to her. What the girl thought about the matter nobody knew or cared—it was not the fashion in the rat world.
Many were the quarrels which the old rat and his wife had upon the subject, and sometimes they bore on their faces certain marks which looked as if they had not kept to words only.
‘Reach up to the stars ismymotto,’ cried the lady one day, when she was in a greater passion than usual. ‘My daughter’s beauty places her higher than anything upon earth,’ she cried; ‘and I am certainly not going to accept a son-in-law who is beneath her.’
‘Better offer her in marriage to the sun,’ answered her husband impatiently. ‘As far as I know there is nothing greater than he.’
‘Well, Iwasthinking of it,’ replied the wife, ‘and as you are of the same mind, we will pay him a visit to-morrow.’
So the next morning, the two rats, having spent hours in making themselves smart, set out to see the sun, leading their daughter between them.
The journey took some time, but at length they came to the golden palace where the sun lived.
‘Noble king,’ began the mother, ‘behold our daughter! She is so beautiful that she is above everything in the whole world. Naturally, we wish for a son-in-law who, on his side, is greater than all. Therefore we have come to you.’
‘I feel very much flattered,’ replied the sun, who was so busy that he had not the least wish to marry anybody. ‘You do me great honour by your proposal. Only, in one point you are mistaken, and it would be wrong of me to take advantage of your ignorance. Thereissomething greater than I am, and that is the cloud. Look!’ And ashe spoke a cloud spread itself over the sun’s face, blotting out his rays.
‘Oh, well, we will speak to the cloud,’ said the mother. And turning to the cloud she repeated her proposal.
‘Indeed I am unworthy of anything so charming,’ answered the cloud; ‘but you make a mistake again in what you say. There is one thing that is even more powerful than I, and that is the wind. Ah, here he comes, you can see for yourself.’
And shedidsee, for catching up the cloud as he passed, he threw it on the other side of the sky. Then, tumbling father, mother and daughter down to the earth again, he paused for a moment beside them, his foot on an old wall.
When she had recovered her breath, the mother began her little speech once more.
‘The wall is the proper husband for your daughter,’ answered the wind, whose home consisted of a cave, which he only visited when he was not rushing about elsewhere; ‘you can see for yourself that he is greater than I, for he has power to stop me in my flight.’ And the mother, who did not trouble to conceal her wishes, turned at once to the wall.
Then something happened which was quite unexpected by everyone.
‘I won’t marry that ugly old wall, which is as old as my grandfather,’ sobbed the girl, who had not uttered one word all this time. ‘I would have married the sun, or the cloud, or the wind, because it was my duty, although I love the handsome young rat, and him only. But that horrid old wall—I would sooner die!’
And the wall, rather hurt in his feelings, declared that he had no claim to be the husband of so beautiful a girl.
‘It is quite true,’ he said, ‘that I can stop the wind who can part the clouds who can cover the sun; but there is someone who can do more than all these, and that isthe rat. It is the rat who passes through me, and can reduce me to powder, simply with his teeth. If, therefore, you want a son-in-law who is greater than the whole world, seek him among the rats.’
‘Ah, what did I tell you?’ cried the father. And his wife, though for the moment angry at being beaten, soon thought that a rat son-in-law was what she had always desired.
So all three returned happily home, and the wedding was celebrated three days after.
[Contes Populaires.]
Long, long ago, there lived a king who ruled over a country by the sea. When he had been married about a year, some of his subjects, inhabiting a distant group of islands, revolted against his laws, and it became needful for him to leave his wife and go in person to settle their disputes. The queen feared that some ill would come of it, and implored him to stay at home, but he told her that nobody could do his work for him, and the next morning the sails were spread, and the king started on his voyage.
The vessel had not gone very far when she ran upon a rock, and stuck so fast in a cleft that the strength of the whole crew could not get her off again. To make matters worse, the wind was rising too, and it was quite plain that in a few hours the ship would be dashed to pieces and everybody would be drowned, when suddenly the form of a mermaid was seen dancing on the waves which threatened every moment to overwhelm them.
‘There is only one way to free yourselves,’ she said to the king, bobbing up and down in the water as she spoke, ‘and that is to give me your solemn word that you will deliver to me the first child that is born to you.’
The king hesitated at this proposal. He hoped that some day he might have children in his home, and the thought that he must yield up the heir to his crown was very bitter to him; but just then a huge wave broke with great force on the ship’s side, and his men fell on their knees and entreated him to save them.
So he promised, and this time a wave lifted the vesselclean off the rocks, and she was in the open sea once more.
The affairs of the islands took longer to settle than the king had expected, and some months passed away before he returned to his palace. In his absence a son had been born to him, and so great was his joy that he quite forgot the mermaid and the price he had paid for the safety of his ship. But as the years went on, and the baby grew into a fine big boy, the remembrance of it came back, and one day he told the queen the whole story. From that moment the happiness of both their lives was ruined. Every night they went to bed wondering if they should find his room empty in the morning, and every day they kept him by their sides, expecting him to be snatched away before their very eyes.
At last the king felt that this state of things could not continue, and he said to his wife:
‘After all, the most foolish thing in the world one can do is to keep the boy here in exactly the place in which the mermaid will seek him. Let us give him food and send him on his travels, and perhaps, if the mermaid everdoescome to seek him, she may be content with some other child.’ And the queen agreed that his plan seemed the wisest.
So the boy was called, and his father told him the story of the voyage, as he had told his mother before him. The prince listened eagerly, and was delighted to think that he was to go away all by himself to see the world, and was not in the least frightened; for though he was now sixteen, he had scarcely been allowed to walk alone beyond the palace gardens. He began busily to make his preparations, and took off his smart velvet coat, putting on instead one of green cloth, while he refused a beautiful bag which the queen offered him to hold his food, and slung a leather knapsack over his shoulders instead, just as he had seen other travellers do. Then he bade farewell to his parents and went his way.
The king's ship is grounded on a rock; a mermaid is nearby
All through the day he walked, watching with interest the strange birds and animals that darted across his path in the forest or peeped at him from behind a bush. But as evening drew on he became tired, and looked about as he walked for some place where he could sleep. At length he reached a soft mossy bank under a tree, and was just about to stretch himself out on it, when a fearful roar made him start and tremble all over. In another moment something passed swiftly through the air and a lion stood before him.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked the lion, his eyes glaring fiercely at the boy.
‘I am flying from the mermaid,’ the prince answered, in a quaking voice.
‘Give me some food then,’ said the lion, ‘it is past my supper time, and I am very hungry.’
The boy was so thankful that the lion did not want to eathim, that he gladly picked up his knapsack which lay on the ground, and held out some bread and a flask of wine.
‘I feel better now,’ said the lion when he had done, ‘so now I shall go to sleep on this nice soft moss, and if you like you can lie down beside me.’ So the boy and the lion slept soundly side by side, till the sun rose.
‘I must be off now,’ remarked the lion, shaking the boy as he spoke; ‘but cut off the tip of my ear, and keep it carefully, and if you are in any danger just wish yourself a lion and you will become one on the spot. One good turn deserves another, you know.’
The prince thanked him for his kindness, and did as he was bid, and the two then bade each other farewell.
‘I wonder how it feels to be a lion,’ thought the boy, after he had gone a little way; and he took out the tip of the ear from the breast of his jacket and wished with all his might. In an instant his head had swollen to several times its usual size, and his neck seemed very hot and heavy; and, somehow, his hands became paws, and hisskin grew hairy and yellow. But what pleased him most was his long tail with a tuft at the end, which he lashed and switched proudly. ‘I like being a lion very much,’ he said to himself, and trotted gaily along the road.
After a while, however, he got tired of walking in this unaccustomed way—it made his back ache and his front paws felt sore. So he wished himself a boy again, and in the twinkling of an eye his tail disappeared and his head shrank, and the long thick mane became short and curly. Then he looked out for a sleeping place, and found some dry ferns, which he gathered and heaped up.
But before he had time to close his eyes there was a great noise in the trees near by, as if a big heavy body was crashing through them. The boy rose and turned his head, and saw a huge black bear coming towards him.
‘What are you doing here?’ cried the bear.
‘I am running away from the mermaid,’ answered the boy; but the bear took no interest in the mermaid, and only said: ‘I am hungry; give me something to eat.’
The knapsack was lying on the ground among the fern, but the prince picked it up, and, unfastening the strap, took out his second flask of wine and another loaf of bread. ‘We will have supper together,’ he remarked politely; but the bear, who had never been taught manners, made no reply, and ate as fast as he could. When he had quite finished, he got up and stretched himself.
‘You have got a comfortable-looking bed there,’ he observed. ‘I really think that, bad sleeper as I am, I might have a good night on it. I can manage to squeeze you in,’ he added; ‘you don’t take up a great deal of room.’ The boy was rather indignant at the bear’s cool way of talking; but as he was too tired to gather more fern, they lay down side by side, and never stirred till sunrise next morning.
‘I must go now,’ said the bear, pulling the sleepy prince on to his feet; ‘but first you shall cut off the tip of my ear, and when you are in any danger just wish yourself a bear and you will become one. One good turn deserves another, you know.’ And the boy did as he was bid, and he and the bear bade each other farewell.
‘I wonder how it feels to be a bear,’ thought he to himself when he had walked a little way; and he took out the tip from the breast of his coat and wished hard that he might become a bear. The next moment his body stretched out and thick black fur covered him all over. As before, his hands were changed into paws, but when he tried to switch his tail he found to his disgust that it would not go any distance. ‘Why it is hardly worth calling a tail!’ said he. For the rest of the day he remained a bear and continued his journey, but as evening came on the bear-skin, which had been so useful when plunging through brambles in the forest, felt rather heavy, and he wished himself a boy again. He was too much exhausted to take the trouble of cutting any fern or seeking for moss, but just threw himself down under a tree, when exactly above his head he heard a great buzzing as a bumble-bee alighted on a honeysuckle branch. ‘What are you doing here?’ asked the bee in a cross voice; ‘at your age you ought to be safe at home.’
‘I am running away from the mermaid,’ replied the boy; but the bee, like the lion and the bear, was one of those people who never listen to the answers to their questions, and only said: ‘I am hungry. Give me something to eat.’
The boy took his last loaf and flask out of his knapsack and laid them on the ground, and they had supper together. ‘Well, now I am going to sleep,’ observed the bee when the last crumb was gone, ‘but as you are not very big I can make room for you beside me,’ and he curled up his wings, and tucked in his legs, and he and the prince both slept soundly till morning. Then the beegot up and carefully brushed every scrap of dust off his velvet coat and buzzed loudly in the boy’s ear to waken him.
‘Take a single hair from one of my wings,’ said he, ‘and if you are in danger just wish yourself a bee and you will become one. One good turn deserves another, so farewell, and thank you for your supper.’ And the bee departed after the boy had pulled out the hair and wrapped it carefully in a leaf.
‘It must feel quite different to be a bee from what it does to be a lion or bear,’ thought the boy to himself when he had walked for an hour or two. ‘I dare say I should get on a great deal faster,’ so he pulled out his hair and wished himself a bee.
In a moment the strangest thing happened to him. All his limbs seemed to draw together, and his body to become very short and round; his head grew quite tiny, and instead of his white skin he was covered with the richest, softest velvet. Better than all, he had two lovely gauze wings which carried him the whole day without getting tired.
Late in the afternoon the boy fancied he saw a vast heap of stones a long way off, and he flew straight towards it. But when he reached the gates he saw that it was really a great town, so he wished himself back in his own shape and entered the city.
He found the palace doors wide open and went boldly into a sort of hall which was full of people, and where men and maids were gossiping together. He joined their talk and soon learned from them that the king had only one daughter who had such a hatred to men that she would never suffer one to enter her presence. Her father was in despair, and had had pictures painted of the handsomest princes of all the courts in the world, in the hope that she might fall in love with one of them; but it was no use; the princess would not even allow the pictures to be brought into her room.
The princess sits on a rock, playing her violin
‘It is late,’ remarked one of the women at last; ‘I must go to my mistress.’ And, turning to one of the lackeys, she bade him find a bed for the youth.
‘It is not necessary,’ answered the prince, ‘this bench is good enough for me. I am used to nothing better.’ And when the hall was empty he lay down for a few minutes. But as soon as everything was quiet in the palace he took out the hair and wished himself a bee, and in this shape he flew upstairs, past the guards, and through the keyhole into the princess’s chamber. Then he turned himself into a man again.
At this dreadful sight the princess, who was broad awake, began to scream loudly. ‘A man! a man!’ cried she; but when the guards rushed in there was only a bumble-bee buzzing about the room. They looked under the bed, and behind the curtains, and into the cupboards, then came to the conclusion that the princess had had a bad dream, and bowed themselves out. The door had scarcely closed on them than the bee disappeared, and a handsome youth stood in his place.
‘Iknewa man was hidden somewhere,’ cried the princess, and screamed more loudly than before. Her shrieks brought back the guards, but though they looked in all kinds of impossible places no man was to be seen, and so they told the princess.
‘He was here a moment ago—I saw him with my own eyes,’ and the guards dared not contradict her, though they shook their heads and whispered to each other that the princess had gone mad on this subject, and saw a man in every table and chair. And they made up their minds that—let her scream as loudly as she might—they would take no notice.
Now the princess saw clearly what they were thinking, and that in future her guards would give her no help, and would perhaps, besides, tell some stories about her to the king, who would shut her up in a lonely tower and prevent her walking in the gardens among her birds andflowers. So when, for the third time, she beheld the prince standing before her, she did not scream but sat up in bed gazing at him in silent terror.
‘Do not be afraid,’ he said, ‘I shall not hurt you’; and he began to praise her gardens, of which he had heard the servants speak, and the birds and flowers which she loved, till the princess’s anger softened, and she answered him with gentle words. Indeed, they soon became so friendly that she vowed she would marry no one else, and confided to him that in three days her father would be off to the wars, leaving his sword in her room. If any man could find it and bring it to him he would receive her hand as a reward. At this point a cock crew, and the youth jumped up hastily saying: ‘Of course I shall ride with the king to the war, and if I do not return, take your violin every evening to the seashore and play on it, so that the very sea-kobolds who live at the bottom of the ocean may hear it and come to you.’
Just as the princess had foretold, in three days the king set out for the war with a large following, and among them was the young prince, who had presented himself at court as a young noble in search of adventures. They had left the city many miles behind them, when the king suddenly discovered that he had forgotten his sword, and though all his attendants instantly offered theirs, he declared that he could fight with none but his own.
‘The first man who brings it to me from my daughter’s room,’ cried he, ‘shall not only have her to wife, but after my death shall reign in my stead.’
At this the Red Knight, the young prince, and several more turned their horses to ride as fast as the wind back to the palace. But suddenly a better plan entered the prince’s head, and, letting the others pass him, he took his precious parcel from his breast and wished himself a lion. Then on he bounded, uttering such dreadful roars that the horses were frightened and grew unmanageable, and heeasily outstripped them, and soon reached the gates of the palace. Here he hastily changed himself into a bee, and flew straight into the princess’s room, where he became a man again. She showed him where the sword hung concealed behind a curtain, and he took it down, saying as he did so: ‘Be sure not to forget what you have promised to do.’
The princess made no reply, but smiled sweetly, and slipping a golden ring from her finger she broke it in two and held half out silently to the prince, while the other half she put in her own pocket. He kissed it, and ran down the stairs bearing the sword with him. Some way off he met the Red Knight and the rest, and the Red Knight at first tried to take the sword from him by force. But as the youth proved too strong for him, he gave it up, and resolved to wait for a better opportunity.
This soon came, for the day was hot and the prince was thirsty. Perceiving a little stream that ran into the sea, he turned aside, and, unbuckling the sword, flung himself on the ground for a long drink. Unluckily, the mermaid happened at that moment to be floating on the water not very far off, and knew he was the boy who had been given her before he was born. So she floated gently in to where he was lying, she seized him by the arm, and the waves closed over them both. Hardly had they disappeared, when the Red Knight stole cautiously up, and could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the king’s sword on the bank. He wondered what had become of the youth, who an hour before had guarded his treasure so fiercely; but, after all, that was no affair of his! So, fastening the sword to his belt, he carried it to the king.
The war was soon over, and the king returned to his people, who welcomed him with shouts of joy. But when the princess from her window saw that her betrothed was not among the attendants riding behind her father, her heart sank, for she knew that some evil must have befallen him, and she feared the Red Knight. She had long agolearned how clever and how wicked he was, and something whispered to her that it washewho would gain the credit of having carried back the sword, and would claim her as his bride, though he had never even entered her chamber. And she could do nothing; for although the king loved her, he never let her stand in the way of his plans.
The poor princess was only too right, and everything came to pass exactly as she had foreseen it. The king told her that the Red Knight had won her fairly, and that the wedding would take place next day, and there would be a great feast after it.
In those days feasts were much longer and more splendid than they are now; and it was growing dark when the princess, tired out with all she had gone through, stole up to her own room for a little quiet. But the moon was shining so brightly over the sea that it seemed to draw her towards it, and taking her violin under her arm, she crept down to the shore.
‘Listen! listen!’ said the mermaid to the prince, who was lying stretched on a bed of seaweeds at the bottom of the sea. ‘Listen! that is your old love playing, for mermaids know everything that happens upon earth.’
‘I hear nothing,’ answered the youth, who did not look happy. ‘Take me up higher, where the sounds can reach me.’
So the mermaid took him on her shoulders and bore him up midway to the surface. ‘Can you hear now?’ she asked.
‘No,’ answered the prince, ‘I hear nothing but the water rushing; I must go higher still.’
Then the mermaid carried him to the very top. ‘You must surely be able to hearnow?’ said she.
‘Nothing but the water,’ repeated the youth. So she took him right to the land.
‘At any rate you can hearnow?’ she said again.