‘The Man in the MoonCame down too soonAnd asked his way to Norwich, O;He got sent to the southAnd burnt his mouthWith eating cold plum-porridge, O.’
‘The Man in the MoonCame down too soonAnd asked his way to Norwich, O;He got sent to the southAnd burnt his mouthWith eating cold plum-porridge, O.’
‘The Man in the Moon
Came down too soon
And asked his way to Norwich, O;
He got sent to the south
And burnt his mouth
With eating cold plum-porridge, O.’
The Man’s voice itself was about as melodious as that of a peacock; but in the final ‘O’ of the song he was joined by his dog and Wopole, who both sang—or rather bawled—awrong note; and as each was proud of his voice the ‘O’ was prolonged indefinitely, and it might have been kept up till doomsday, only, just at that moment, they happened to turn the corner of a heap of cheese and came in sight of a cottage at some distance off.
‘That’s the cottage where they live,’ said the old Man.
And no sooner did the Princess hear his words than she started off at a run towards it.
‘I must get there before him,’ she said; and so she went as fast as she could over the soft cheese. She really needn’t have hurried so much, for Wopole and the old man had stopped, and it might have saved her a world of trouble if she had listened to what they said; but she didn’t.
When she reached the cottage she stopped a moment to gain breath; but that was soon done, and she went to the door and tapped. Noanswer came; so she lifted the latch gently and walked in as quietly as she could.
‘There goes that door,’ she heard an ill-tempered voice say.
‘I shouldn’t take the trouble to close it again if I were you. It’s the fifth time it’s blown open to-day.’ This was in another voice.
It was impossible for the Princess to see where the voice came from, for the cottage was so dark after the light outside that for some moments it was quite as black as night. However, gradually her eyes became accustomed to the twilight, for the open door did let in a good deal of light.
What she did see, however, did not please her eyes much, for the three sisters, to whom Wopole gave the name of Parker—they are called the Parcae generally—were about as ugly as they make them; and as they were twins—that is, triplets—therewas not much to choose between them.
The room in the cottage was very large, and at the wall at one end a large number of frames stood on which were nailed reels, and from every reel came a silver thread, and over every reel a small placard was placed on which was written a name—the name of the owner of the thread.
Behind the frames stood one of the Fates, who took off used-up reels and placed new ones in their stead; though how she did it the Princess could not tell, for the Fates, as well as Love, are blind. Yet she did it.
Between the reels and the last of the three sisters sat one clothed in black, who held in her hand scissors wherewith she severed certain of the threads—threads of those that die on earth. Last of the three sat one who twisted all the threads into one great rope that ran from her hands down a fathomless pit to the earth.
And so they all sat silently working busily, with no other sound than the clipping of the scissors as their owner cut remorselessly here and there, surely and safely—she needed no eyes.
But the Princess heeded little of this, for she was seeking out two names. The names were arranged in townships, so she had but little difficulty in finding them; and she changed the names that stood over the strings. Over Wopole’s she put the name of Treblo, and over Treblo she put Wopole’s name.
‘It is the only way to stop him killing Treblo. As for the others, Abbonamento and Araminta, if Wopole cuts his own string and dies, he will not be able to cut theirs; but if he die not instantly and cut the other strings, I will knot them together again quickly. And I will also knot together Wopole’s own thread, for he has done me no harm,and once he saved my life; only, he must not kill Treblo.’
When she had got thus far, the light that came through the door was interrupted for a moment, and Wopole entered.
He stopped for a few minutes to accustom his eyes to the faint light. Then the Princess heard him mutter:
‘Lucky for me the old ladies are blind and deaf. Here are his own scissors to cut his own thread. That is to fight him with his own tools—and I shall win.’
And then he walked towards the sets of threads.
In a few moments he had found the thread marked ‘Treblo,’ and reaching out the scissors he cut it through. But he dropped the scissors almost instantly.
‘What a pain I have in my side,’ he said. ‘I won’t cut any more threads if it’s to hurt me like this each time. Old Abbonamento andAraminta won’t last long after their son; and as for the lovely Princess, Mumkie promised her to me, so I won’t cut your string, Ernalie.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ernalie herself, so quietly that Wopole did not notice it, and he left the house in somewhat of a hurry.
‘I’ll just join his thread, and then I’ll join him again; and so there’s not much harm done.’
But it was not quite so easy to join the threads as it looked, for part of the thread that went towards the earth moved on, while that which came from the reel stood still. However, she pulled the thread rapidly from the reel, and she managed to tie the two parts together before they reached the lady with the scissors, and so the thread passed on its way without notice.
‘That’s all right,’ said she thankfully, and she left the house to follow Wopole.
He, however, had already passed theturning and was out of sight, so she followed; but when she too had turned the corner he was nowhere to be seen. However, she was quite sure of the road, so she went leisurely on; but each hillock was so like the other, and there was no mark to guide her, for no trees grew on the cheese. And so little by little she began to feel convinced that she had lost her way, and though she wandered on for hours and hours she came to no trace of anything that would guide her to the vessel.
But at last she came to some footsteps in the cheese, and she was now quite sure of being in the right track. So she ran on as fast as she could, and she really was on the right path, and soon she came in sight of the sea, and then she saw the vessel, but it was sailing away from her as fast as it could, and although she shouted and cried to Wopole to come back and fetch her, he took no notice.
‘Wopole! Wopole!’ she shrieked;but the wind carried her voice away, and did not bring back Wopole.
Again she called:
‘Wopole!’
‘Whatisthe use of making all that noise?’ said a voice that came from close to her side, and when she looked round she saw the Man, sitting on his bundle of sticks, eating the bread ravenously, and scooping up pieces of the moon-cheese from his side.
‘What is the use of making all that noise?’ he said again, bad-temperedly.
‘I want Wopole to come back and fetch me,’ said the Princess.
‘I daresay he’d feel flattered if he knew; but he doesn’t. It’s no use howling. By the bye, I forgot to tell you—“This lanthorn doth the horned moon present.”’
‘But whathasthat got to do with my getting home?’ said the Princess.
‘I don’t know; but it’s my home. Look, the sea’s rising.’
The Princess looked round in alarm, for she was afraid of getting her feet wet; but though the sea was rising, it did not hurt the moon at all, for, you see, the water belonged to the earth, and so, while the moon sank lower and lower, the water remained like a solid wall above them, but did not close over them. The light of the moon attracted the fishes and strange monsters of the deep, and the Princess saw them as calmly as if they had been part of a large aquarium. She looked at them for some time; but a strange sound behind her made her turn round:
‘I am about to sing a serenade,’ said the Man.
‘Please don’t,’ said the Princess.
‘I’m sure you’d like to hear it. “I’ll sing you songs of Araby,”’ he said.
‘But I don’t care about Araby.’
‘You really must listen. Come, now, do hear.’
And he began waving his arms to and fro, roaring:
‘When moonlight o’er the azure seasIn soft effulgence swells!’
‘When moonlight o’er the azure seasIn soft effulgence swells!’
‘When moonlight o’er the azure seas
In soft effulgence swells!’
But he sang it to the tune of the moonlight sonata.
The Princess did not wait to hear. She put her fingers in her ears, and ran off as fast as she could; but still she heard the burden:
‘Ah, Angeline! ah, lady mine!’
And he seemed to keep it up for a long while. However, after she had gone some miles the sound died away in the distance, and all was quiet.
The Princess now sat down to rest, and to look at the earth, for the moon had dipped underneath it by this time, and she could see Australia and New Zealand and various of the other lands of the Antipodes.
Her attention was drawn away from the earth to the moon by a sound that seemed like the rolling of wheels. It was still distant, but approached rapidly, and in a few moments a chariot, drawn by two milk-white stags with golden horns, dashed past close to her, and rolled over a hill near by, as easily as if they had been bubbles blown by the wind.
But the Princess did not look much at the stags or the chariot; the thing that took her attention was the driver. A woman you could hardly have called her; for, though she was clad in the garb of a huntress, it was easy to see who she was, for who but Diana carried a silver bow?
‘Dear me!’ said Ernalie, ‘this must be the Goddess of the moon. I’ll go to her and tell her everything, and ask her to take me back to the earth when she goes. For she must go to the earth sometimes since she’s the Goddess of the chase; there’s nothing to hunthere except cheese-mites, and they’re not great sport for such a mighty huntress.’
So she followed as fast as she was able to the top of the hill over which the chariot had disappeared; but it had gone so fast that it had passed out of sight over another range of hills. However, the hoof and wheel marks were plainly shown on the white surface of the cheese. So she went on and on, following the tracks, until, just as she was beginning to despair, she came to the brow of a hill, and in a valley beneath she saw a large building, in appearance something like a Grecian temple, except that instead of stone it was made of cheese.
In front of the building was a large heap of skins of various animals, piled up so high that they made a sort of couch on which the Goddess was lying up to dinner; for it was the fashion among the gods to lie up or rather down, instead of sitting up to table.
The two white stags which had been harnessed to the chariot were playfully butting at each other with their golden horns, and the chariot itself was tilted on its back, just as you would see an ordinary two-wheeled cart nowadays.
But the Princess was not particularly interested in this—to tell the truth, she was feeling remarkably hungry and thirsty, for she had been already for some hours without tasting anything at all.
‘I wonder if I’m invisible to the gods as well as to man,’ she thought. ‘I’ll just try if I am, at all events.’
So she went towards the Goddess, who was eating the food that lay on the table in front of the couch; but Diana did not appear to notice her, and she advanced more boldly until she was quite close to the table.
‘She doesn’t seem to have muchvariety,’ thought the Princess, at least she meant to think.
‘Do you think so?’ said Diana, looking up in some astonishment to where the voice came from. ‘And who asked you to say so? and who are you, and where are you, and why can’t I see you? Tell me, or I’ll shoot you.’
‘I don’t exactly see how you can,’ said the Princess.
The Goddess seized her bow and looked for her quiver; but even as she reached out her hand to take it, it vanished, for Ernalie was too fast for her.
Diana looked more and more astonished and annoyed.
‘Who are you?’ she said. ‘Are you a mortal?’
‘Certainly I am,’ said Ernalie.
‘Then how is it I can’t see you?’ asked the Goddess.
‘Because of the feather, I suppose,’ said the Princess.
‘You don’t mean to say you’ve got the feather? Tell me how you got it?’
The Princess did as she was told, for she saw no use in making the Goddess angry.
When she had finished, Diana said:
‘You have been lucky, whoever you are. The feather belonged to one of Jupiter’s eagles, and this eagle got angry and flew at Jove because he gave its brother eagle more than its share of food. So he banished the eagle to the earth, and it got shot. I would give anything for the feather.’
‘But I wouldn’t part with it for any price,’ said Ernalie.
‘I’ll give you anything you like for it, you know,’ said the Goddess.
‘But I won’t part with it,’ said Ernalie. ‘Besides, I’ve got your arrows, and I won’t give them back to you for nothing.’
‘What a plague you are! What do you want for the arrows?’
‘First, you must promise not to steal the feather from me.’
‘Well, I’ll promise that,’ said the Goddess.
‘Then promise not to do me any harm.’
‘Very well.’
‘And lastly, take me safely back to the earth.’
‘I should be only too glad if you had never come near me,’ said the Goddess. ‘However, I promise them all. Now give me the arrows.’
The Princess gave the arrows back, for the word of Diana was not to be doubted.
‘I wish you would show yourself to me,’ the Goddess went on; ‘I should like to see you very much. I wonder what sort of a person you are? Do show yourself.’
So the Princess took off the cap in which she wore the feather, but as soon as it was off Diana vanished; for, you see, it was the feather touchingher head that gave Ernalie the power of seeing without being seen, and a goddess is naturally invisible. But the Princess did not think of that.
‘It must be some trick,’ she thought. So she put the feather back in a hurry, but the Goddess had not moved. She was smiling quietly.
‘Can’t you trust me, child?’ she said; ‘for you aren’t much more than a child, you know.’
‘I’m grown up, at any rate,’ said the Princess indignantly. ‘I’m nineteen years old, so I’m not so very young.’
‘And I’m nineteen thousand years old,’ said the Goddess, ‘and I don’t look so very old, do I?’
‘You certainly don’t. But then, you see, you’re a goddess and I’m a mortal, and it makes a difference.’
‘It does,’ said Diana. ‘But do show yourself to me again.’
‘But if I make myself visible, you disappear,’ said Ernalie.
‘Oh, I had forgotten that. However, I’ll make myself visible too.’
So when Ernalie took the feather away this time Diana was easily visible.
‘And you want to go back to the earth, do you?’ asked Diana.
‘I do, very much,’ answered the Princess.
‘And why?’
‘Because the moon has got so little to eat on it.’
‘Really!’ said the Goddess. ‘There’s plenty of cheese, isn’t there?’
‘But I don’t like cheese, and especially green cheese. I hate it.’
‘Do you, really? What a pity it is you’re not a mouse,’ said the Goddess.
‘But I’m not,’ said Ernalie, ‘and that settles it.’
‘She might offer me some of her food,’ she thought to herself.
‘You wouldn’t be able to eat it if you had it,’ said the Goddess, who seemed to hear what she thought just as well as what she said.
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ asked Ernalie.
‘Because it’s ambrosia; and if you once ate any of it you’d never be able to eat any other kind of food, which would be rather awkward for you.’
‘Why?’ asked the Princess.
‘You’re always asking “Y.” Why don’t you use some other letter—“Z” for instance; it gets so monotonous. Now tell me who you are, and all about yourself.’
So the Princess did as she was told.
‘It would never do to offend her if she’s going to take me back to the earth,’ she thought, and the Goddess remarked:
‘Quite right.’
When she had finished, the Goddess said:
‘You shouldn’t have interfered with the Fates. Even Jupiter daren’t do that, and I’d as soon go near them as I would pat Cerberus.’
‘But what could I do? I didn’t want Wopole to kill himself.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said the Goddess. ‘Why did you come at all? If Wopole and the other chose to fall out I don’t see why you should meddle to save him.’
‘But I couldn’t let Wopole kill Treblo.’
‘Why not?’ asked the Goddess.
‘Because he was my foster-brother, and he was going to marry me, and I’m sure I didn’t want my husband to be liable to drop down dead at any moment.’
The Goddess looked angry at this.
‘Why shouldn’t he? He’s only a man, and I hate men—nasty, vulgar things! And you were going to marry him? If I’d known that I’d never have spoken a word to you. Don’t you know I’m the Goddess of Chastity, and I’ve sworn never to marry? The sooner you go the better.’
‘But I can’t go. I’ve got nowhere to go to; and besides, you promised to take me back to the earth,’ said Ernalie.
‘I suppose I did,’ said the Goddess. ‘Besides, I don’t want to have you always here. Well, the moon will begin to rise in half an hour, and then I’ll take you in my chariot, that’s the only thing to do; so you can help me to harness the stags.’
This was soon done, and the Goddess went into the house to put away the remains of the food on which she had been dining. When she came out again Ernalie noticed that she had made a considerable change in her costume. What the change was I don’t exactly know, but she said to Ernalie:
‘You see I have to dress lightly to follow the chase easily. However, if you’re ready, I am.’
So saying, she slung her quiver full of arrows over her back, and takingthe silver bow in her hand, got into the chariot.
‘Get up,’ she said to Ernalie, for the stags were already pawing the ground in their eagerness to be off. Ernalie jumped in quickly, and the stags darted off at an immense pace. They went so smoothly, however, that the Princess was not at all shaken or jolted. On over hills and through valleys, until it almost made her head swim at the way in which the scenery shot past. However, in a few minutes the roar of the waves sounded in her ears, and they came over the hill-top to the sea-beach. Just then the Goddess drew the reins in, and the stags stopped short.
‘What on earth is that?’ she said.
Now that the chariot had stopped, the Princess too could hear the sound that came faintly borne on the breeze:
‘When moonlight o’er the azure seas.’
‘Why, it’s the Man,’ she said.
‘So it is,’ said Diana angrily. ‘I recognise his voice. He calls it “mezzo-soprano.” It’s dreadful. I told him never to sing unless he had somebody to sing to. Of course I thought no one would ever come to the moon. I wonder whom he’s singing to?’
‘I rather imagine he thinks he’s singing to me,’ said the Princess hesitatingly. ‘I begged him not to sing; but he insisted. So I ran away, and I suppose he thinks I’m still there, for, you see, he can’t see me.’
‘Oh, he thinks you’re still there, does he?’ said Diana. ‘Just make yourself invisible, and I’ll do the same, and we’ll go a little closer.’
The Princess did as she was told, and Diana urged the stags in the direction of the voice.
The rattling of the wheels was quite drowned in the noise of the Man’s voice, as he sang:
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . e,And you’ll remember me.’
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . e,And you’ll remember me.’
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . e,
And you’ll remember me.’
‘You’ve improved a good deal in that last line,’ said the Goddess. ‘I wish you’d sing it over again.’
‘Youarethere then?’ said the Man. ‘I thought you had gone away. I couldn’t get you to answer when I spoke to you.’
‘Ah! that was because I was too enchanted for words to express. Now,dosing the last line again. Only the last line; itisso fine,’ said Diana.
The Man drew in a long breath:
‘And you’ll remember, re . member me . e . e.’
At the sound of his voice the Princess put her hands to her ears, and Diana had the greatest difficulty in keeping the stags from turning tail and bolting right away. However, she managed to quieten them, and took a good grip of her whip handle, and the consequence was that the last line came out:
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . ow—ow!’
for the whip stung a good deal.
‘I hope you’ll remember me—ow—ow,’said the Goddess calmly, as she suddenly appeared to him, turning the chariot towards the sea.
‘You don’t mind getting a little wet?’ she continued, turning to the Princess. ‘We’re going over the water.’
And she gave the reins to the stags, who sprang wildly down the steep slope into the sea. For a moment the Princess thought that there might be rather too much of a good thing, even if that good thing were riding in a chariot along with a goddess; for the chariot plunged deep into a high wave, and it seemed to the Princess as if it never did intend to come to the surface again. However, it did come up, and that was some comfort, although the Princess was dripping all over with the sea-water.
But the stags were once more darting onwards, for the chariot ran as lightly over the waves as over the land, and they went at such a rate that although the great breakers chasedthem, and even curled right over them, they were never so much as touched by the spray that the wind blew from off the crests of the waves.
So they dashed on through the blue water that coiled up over the front of the chariot but fell back when it saw the Goddess. On and on they went, and as they got farther out the waves became steeper and steeper, until it seemed as if they were going over very mountainous land indeed, for they rose over every wave.
Suddenly the Goddess said:
‘This is a little too much,’ and drew the stags in.
The great waves rolled on like angry hounds hungering for their prey; but the Goddess motioned with her hand:
‘Down, down!’ she cried. ‘Know ye me?’
And the waves sank, like hounds to whom their master shows his whip, and instantly it fell a deep calm over the whole sea. Then the Goddesslashed on the deer again, and once more they sped on over the sea, and the chariot wheels cut two deep white furrows in the deep blue, and in the moonlight Ernalie could see the two straight white lines glistening right away to the horizon—for they went so quickly that there was no time for the foam to die away, before it was out of sight. So they kept on for a long while, and gradually the moon rose in the sky, and then fell lower and lower, and still they journeyed on. Then the moon set, the stars gradually faded from sight, and the hot rays of the morning sun began to turn the eastern sky yellow.
Suddenly the Goddess pulled up the stags.
‘There’s the land,’ she said, pointing to a low blue line on the horizon. ‘We must rise into the air now, for we are getting near the place where ships ply to and fro on the sea, and if the sailors saw the two white trails of thechariot wheels they would say it was the sea-serpent, and I don’t want to be called a snake—it’s most insulting. So if you’re inclined to be giddy you’d better sit in the bottom of the car.’
But the Princess said:
‘Oh no. I’m never giddy, however great the height may be.’
So Diana gave the word to the stags, and they began to rise from the water in a spiral line upwards as an eagle soars in chase of a swan.
When they had reached a sufficiently great height, the Goddess once more let loose the reins, and the deer bounded forward again like an arrow released from a bow.
Swiftly they neared the land; but from where they were nothing could be seen of the things on it. Everything was blurred into one mass, as if it had been a map spread out below them.
So they sped on again for a time,and the fresh morning air blew cool on Ernalie’s face, and almost made her shiver, though by this time her garments were dry again, and blew out like a cloud behind her, as if they had been of thin gauze, though they were really of far thicker and heavier material.
Suddenly a thought struck Ernalie.
‘Where are you going to take me?’ she asked as well as she could, for the wind blew her words down her throat.
The Goddess smiled somewhat maliciously, Ernalie thought, and checked the course of the stags that she might speak with greater ease.
‘You shall see,’ she said.
‘But I should like to know beforehand.’
‘I only promised to take you back to the earth,’ said Diana.
‘But you promised to do me no harm,’ said Ernalie dismally, ‘and if you leave me in the middle ofa desert you’ll do me a lot of harm.’
‘But I’m not going to put you down into the middle of a desert,’ said Diana. ‘Look, we are descending. Now, see if you recognise the country you pass over.’
The Princess looked over the edge of the chariot, and she saw that the stags were descending in great spiral curves, and at each curve the earth flew up nearer and nearer to meet them. As they got lower down Ernalie could see what was below more clearly, as if she had been looking through an opera glass, and was only just commencing to get the right focus. When they were quite close the Goddess stopped the descent of the chariot.
‘Now, do you recognise where you are?’ she asked.
But Ernalie shook her head.
‘I only see that we are over the tops of a range of mountains that havesnow on their peaks,’ she said. ‘But I was never here before—that I am quite certain of.’
The Goddess shook the reins, and again the stags flew forward; but this time not so fast as they had gone before.
‘You have been here before,’ she said. ‘And at just this height, and at just this speed, only you were going in the opposite direction.’
‘Why,’ said Ernalie, ‘I must be in my own country. Oh, how cruel of you to take me away from my Prince, and you promised to do me no harm.’
‘I am doing you no harm,’ said the Goddess. ‘To prevent you marrying is not harm—it is good.’
But the Princess said:
‘No! no! it is harm. I would give anything to be back with him.’
‘Would you give your feather?’ said the Goddess eagerly.
‘No, not that,’ said the Princess.
‘I will give you anything you like for it,’ said the Goddess. ‘Anything——’
But the Princess said scornfully:
‘Not so, Goddess. I will get back to my love in spite of you. If I can do nothing better I will pray to Venus and offer her the feather.’
The Goddess looked angrily at her, and it almost seemed as if her eyes shot fire.
‘If it were not for my promise,’ she said, ‘I would hurl you from the car; but as it is, I will put you safely down.’
But the Princess smiled in spite of herself.
‘Do you, then, hate Venus so much, great Goddess?’ she asked. ‘Well, you have really done me much good, and therefore I promise never to give the feather to any other goddess save you alone.’
Diana looked very much relieved; for, to tell the truth, the goddesses inthose days were very jealous of one another, and Diana could not bear the thought that any one else should have the feather if she could not get it.
So for a few minutes she was silent; and then suddenly she drew in the stags.
‘I am going to set you down here,’ she said, and they plunged into the darkness below. For you must know that though they were high up, and the rays of the sun, still below the horizon, fell on them, yet, beneath them, everything was dark in the shadow of the mountains.
The chariot sank slowly until it rested on the ground, but it was still so dark that the Princess could see nothing.
‘Get out,’ said Diana; ‘you are quite safe here.’ And the Princess obeyed. ‘Now remember,’ the Goddess went on, ‘I have kept my promises. Remember to keep yours. Give the feather to no one except tome, unless I send Iris for it. To her alone give it, for she is the messenger of the goddesses.’
The Princess once more promised, and Diana shook the reins, and the chariot once more darted up through the air and out of the lower darkness into the sunlight, until it was so high that it vanished altogether from her sight.
So the Princess looked wearily down again, and the earth around her seemed doubly dark by contrast.
‘I wonder where on earth I am,’ she said, and then she took two or three steps forward, but she came against a stone parapet or wall, or something. ‘I wonder what this is,’ she said to herself. ‘I think I shall stop where I am till daylight; it won’t be very long now, and I’m safe here at any rate.’
So she leant on the wall and waited; but even though the dawn was near it seemed long in coming.
But presently over the mountains in the east a yellow light stole, changing the silence of darkness for the clamorous speech of light, and the river flowing placidly in front was turned to liquid gold with the yellow of the dawn, and a sense of yellow-fringed gray mist was on everything, and forms erstwhile veiled discovered themselves.
‘Why, wherever am I?’ said Ernalie, rubbing her eyes in astonishment. ‘I seem to have been here before! Yes, there’s the fountain and the rose-bushes, and—why, this must be the terrace of my father’s Palace! Just where I was when the eagle carried me off. I wonder if the swans are still here,’ and she walked to the other side of the terrace and looked over the marble parapet into the water.
‘Yes, there they are.’ And on the marble steps that led down to the water the swans were asleep, each on one leg, with its neck coiled up onits back, and head under its wing. On hearing the footsteps of the Princess one of them looked lazily up as if it had been waked too soon, and then it shook its head, yawned, put down its other leg and waddled slowly to the water, into which it jumped with a splash that woke the others up; and they followed dreamily, being unused to the chill of the water so early.
A cock crowed, and his challenge was answered from far and near, and woke up the sparrows, who came down to the fountain for a shower-bath in the sparkling spray. They were followed by the pigeons, who, after cooing a little, stretched their wings and circled away on their morning flight. So, by degrees, the world awoke as the day took a firmer grasp on the land and the light grew stronger.
‘I wish they’d open the doors and let me get in,’ the Princess said. Butas yet there seemed no sign of any one waking up.
‘Ah, well,’ she said resignedly, ‘I’ve waited six years to come home—I suppose I can wait a few more hours.’
So she quietly walked to the rose-bushes and plucked one or two of the great red damask roses, and chafing the petals off between her hands, threw the handfuls of them at the swans, who hissed and snapped as the mass of red leaves fell over them. It was some time since they had been subjected to such treatment; however, they seemed to get used to it again pretty easily.
Thus the Princess managed to while away about half an hour, and then she noticed smoke coming out of one of the chimneys.
‘They must be up in the kitchen,’ she thought. ‘I’ll just go and knock at the door and get let in.’
Accordingly she went and knockedsoftly at the door, and an angry voice shouted out:
‘Come in, do! and don’t stand knocking there. I’ve got the King’s boots to black, and his eggs and bacon to cook, and I’ve only got three hours to do it in. I haven’t got time.’
So the Princess lifted the latch and walked in.
‘Is the King up, cook?’ she asked.
‘No, he’s not! lazy old man as he is,’ said the cook, looking up angrily. ‘But where are you? Come out from behind that door.’
‘Oh! I had forgotten,’ said the Princess.
She meant, of course, she had forgotten about the feather, but the cook didn’t know that.
‘You’d forgotten, had you?’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll teach you to forget if I catch you!’
‘But you won’t, my dear cook,’ said the Princess sweetly.
‘You’ll catch it if you don’t look out!’ howled the cook, as she rose from the floor where she had been cleaning the boots, and in doing so she knocked over an enormous pot of liquid blacking.
‘That’s your doing!’ she cried, as she made a dash at the door.
But the Princess evaded her easily, and she ran outside fully expecting to find the invisible questioner there. But the Princess meanwhile walked through the kitchen and up the back-stairs to her own room.
The room was just as she had left it when she went away, except that the bed seemed to have grown rather small for her, or rather she had grown too large for the bed.
However, she went in, and locking the door, laid herself down on the bed, and soon dropped off to sleep; for, as you may imagine, she was rather tired, for she had not slept for nearly two days—that is,ever since she had first reached the moon.
It did not seem that she had slept three minutes before she was awakened by a tremendous noise below-stairs.
‘I wonder what that is,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll get up and see.’
And she went to the wash-hand stand to wash the sea-water off her face, but the soap, from long want of use, had cracked in all directions, and she had to content herself with the water that was in the jug. Then she brushed her hair, which was full of salt, and after that tried to brush the salt off her dress; for the sea-water had dried on it, and had left it shining all over with the salt. Before she had quite finished, however, the noise that had waked her sounded again. It seemed as if some one were running downstairs very hard.
So the Princess took her hat off, not wishing to be invisible any more, for a time at least, and then,opening the door, she walked quietly downstairs.
There seemed to be no one about, and except that a terrible hurly-burly proceeded from the whereabouts of the kitchen, one would never have told that any one in the whole house was awake.
However, just then the clock in the hall struck eight, and a page came rushing downstairs.
‘Breakfast! breakfast!’ he shouted, quite without noticing the Princess, and he almost passed her before he saw her; but she stopped him.
‘Where is the King?’ she said.
‘The King is in his counting—that is, I mean the breakfast-room. But you can’t see him.’
‘But I must,’ said the Princess.
‘Well, of course, if you must——’
The Princess interrupted him.
‘Don’t you know who I am?’ she said.
‘No, I don’t; and I don’t wantto,’ said the page. ‘Perhaps you’re the person who brings home the washing, or the kitchen-maid. If you are, I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes. The King is so jolly wild about his eggs and bacon being late that——’
But the Princess didn’t wait to hear any more; she walked straight towards the door of the breakfast-room. At the door two guards were stationed; but as they were old and crusted—that is, trusted—they remembered the Princess, and only saluted with their swords, wishing her ‘good-morning’—for they were far too well bred to express surprise or joy at sight of her. One of them opened the door for her, and said in a loud voice:
‘The Princess, your Majesty.’
The King was seated in a chair with his back to the door, and did not seem to hear what the man said. He only nodded, and did not look up from the papers he was reading.
So the Princess stole quietly upbehind him, and put her fingers over his eyes—she always was rather irreverent.
‘Guess who I am,’ she said to the struggling monarch.
‘I won’t,’ he spluttered, for he was rather enraged.
‘Think a minute, papa,’ she said encouragingly.
‘I never should have thought of being assaulted in such a way,’ said the King, who had given up struggling, finding it no use.
So the Princess drew her hands away, and kissed him on the top of his bald head.
The King darted away out of the chair as soon as he was released, and that so violently that he fell right on to the floor in a sitting posture.
‘Why, who the——’ he was beginning; but his eye happening to fall on Ernalie, he ejaculated:
‘Good gracious! How did you come here?’
‘I walked downstairs from my room to bid you good-morning, papa, and you recoiled when I touched you as if I were a snake, instead of your loving daughter. But wouldn’t you like me to help you up? It must be rather uncomfortable sitting there.’
‘Yes, I think it would be as well,’ the King said, after reflecting a moment. ‘I shouldn’t like any one to see me in such a posture—it’s rather undignified for a king.’
So the Princess bent over and began to help him up; but it was a labour of some time, for the King was rather stiff, and just as she had got him half up a page entered and announced the breakfast. It was the same page that had met the Princess on the staircase, and when he saw the Princess assisting the King to rise, he rushed forward, shouting:
‘Help! help! She’s murdering the King.’
And catching the Princess by thearm, he pulled her away so roughly that she had to let go of the King, who recoiled at the shock, and rolled under the table on his back.
Alarmed at the page’s cries for help, a large number of people had rushed in, and he turned to them expecting to be commended for his bravery; but he saw that every one either looked as if he had put his foot in it, or else was trying hard not to laugh. The Princess herself could hardly help laughing at his perplexed face.
‘I think, sir, you were a little too vigorous in your help,’ she said coldly. ‘You may leave us now.’
‘And you can all go,’ said the King from under the table.
The whole lot trooped out, shutting the door, and as soon as they were outside shouts of laughter filled the air for some minutes.
The King meanwhile scrambled out from under the table and got up, this time declining his daughter’s help.
‘It’s always the way,’ he said, as soon as the laughter had died away. ‘Whenever I do anything ridiculous and undignified there’s always a lot of people to see it. Why, only last Thursday—no, last Tuesday, I think—anyhow, it was the day of the last state banquet, my crown tumbled into the soup-tureen, and then I was so nervous that, when I was raising my wine-glass to propose a toast, my hand shook so much that I dropped the wine down the Duchess of Carabas’s neck; and then she fainted, and I helped to carry her out of the room, and as soon as I got outside they all laughed so loud that the chandelier fell into the middle of them. It broke right on a duke’s head, and he never apologised for breaking it. However, I shall get over it now you’ve come back. We really must get into more regular habits. I’ve actually never had more than ten pages to serve my breakfast since you’ve beenaway, and, by the bye, we’ve nothadbreakfast; and I’ve forgotten altogether to have the bells rung in your honour. Just knock that gong there on the table—it’s cracked, but I can’t afford a new one, and it’s quite good enough for the guards outside to hear.’
So the Princess knocked the gong, and it certainlywascracked; it sounded a good deal more like knocking an old pot than a respectable royal gong.
At the sound one of the guards outside entered and saluted.
‘Let the breakfast be brought,’ the King said.
The guard withdrew, and presently the door opened, and a page appeared with the royal coffee-pot on a cushion of cloth of gold. Next came another page with the cream-jug on a similar cushion, and then another with the slop-basin, and another with the sugar, and another with the tongs, until thetable was completely furnished. Last of all came, with a loud fanfare of trumpets, four men, staggering under the weight of an enormous silver dish with an equally enormous silver cover. When this was placed on the table, amid another flourish of trumpets, the royal butler entered, and said:
‘Breakfast is served, your Majesty,’ although the King could see it very well himself. But that was the custom.
‘You may remove the cover,’ the King said.
And the butler did so, discovering the breakfast. I say discovering, for the breakfast was so small that it seemed almost lost in the centre of the great dish. The twelve pages had ranged themselves in lines of six on each side of the table, and although they were very well bred, on the whole they could not help smiling, whereupon all simultaneously drew out their handkerchiefs and began to cough, and thenthey looked at the windows, as if to see where the draught came from.
But the King did not take any notice, and as soon as he could make himself heard, he said:
‘Ah! and what is this?’
‘It is the breakfast, your Majesty,’ said the butler.
‘Yes, I can see that,’ said the King. ‘But what is the dish called?’
‘Oh, the dish, your Majesty,’ said the butler apologetically. ‘It’s the ordinary silver dish that your Majesty has with the breakfast. I think it’s the fiddle pattern—no, that’s for spoons; but——’
‘You’re an ass,’ said the King, interrupting him angrily.
‘Thank you, your Majesty. Anything else?’
‘Send for the cook.’
‘Yes, your Majesty. Anything else?’
‘Yes; go away, and don’t come back.’
‘Yes, your Majesty. You’re quite sure there’s nothing——’
‘If you don’t go,’ said the King threateningly. But he had gone.
In a few minutes heavy footsteps were heard outside, and the door burst open violently, and a very fat person entered. She seemed a perfect mass of blacking and dust.
‘Who are you?’ said the King in astonishment.
‘I am the lady that does the cooking for you,’ said the cook solemnly.
‘Oh, you are,’ said the King; ‘and will your ladyship allow me to ask what that is?’ and he pointed to the breakfast.
The cook went forward and, taking a fork from the table, tried to pick the breakfast up, but it slid off the fork; so, without more ado, she took it up in her fingers and examined it carefully, as if to see that it had not changed since she sent it up. When she had done, she looked up and said:
‘Why, it’s as nice an egg as can be bought for money, only it’s a bit addled; and I dropped it in the blacking, but I wiped it on my own apron—look there.’
And she lifted up her apron to look at; and it certainly looked as if a good many eggs had been wiped on it.
However, the King did not notice that.
‘Oh, it’s an egg, is it?’ he said; ‘I didn’t know. I thought it was a piece of coal, and——’
But at this point the cook broke in.
‘Call my eggs a coal! It’s a crying shame! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, an old man like you, too. Here have I been working for three hours this very morning at that egg, and he calls it a coal; and me that plagued too with demons! Why, only this morning one of ’em came and banged at the door so hard that it broke, and then it came in. It was a blue one, with red eyes anda long green tail with a fork at the end; and it stuck the fork in the egg, and then put the egg in the blacking and threw it all over the kitchen; and then it kicked the blacking pot over and flew out at the door before I could say “Gemini”; and I saw it with my own eyes, and it was as ugly a little——’
But this was more than the Princess could stand.
‘Oh, what a—an untruth that is! Look at me. Am I a blue demon with red eyes and a tail?’
But the cook was off again.
‘Oh, it was you, was it? And you ought to be ashamed ofyourself, a-frightening a poor lone-lorn woman. Call yourself a Princess? I call you a——’
This was too much for the King.
‘That is enough,’ he said. ‘Take a month’s warning.’
To which the cook replied contemptuously:
‘You givemea month’s warning? Not a bit of it. I give you a minute’s warning! it’s quite enough for the likes of you.’
‘Oh, very well,’ said the King. ‘Of course, if you go off without warning, I don’t pay your month’s wages.’
‘Call yourself a King?’ roared the cook. ‘Why, you’re meaner than——’
‘I don’t know what I call myself,’ said the King mildly, ‘but if you don’t go I’ll call a policeman and have your head cut off instead of your wages.’
But the cook was not to be daunted.
‘That’s what the likes of you does with your old and faithful servants. Here have I been, day in, day out, work, work, work, like a nigger slave-driver, and this is my reward!’
The King did not listen to the rest. He beckoned to one of the pages and said:
‘Just run and bring a sack and throw it over her head. Be quick!’
The page left the room.
‘There you go,’ said the irrepressible cook. ‘That’s it, send for the police, ye oppressors of the poor. Ugh!’
And she began a fresh volley of abuse. She seemed as if she would never lose her breath. But after a few minutes—it seemed ages to the unfortunate King—the page returned; and although he did not enter very quietly, yet the cook was making such a noise that she did not hear him, and the page, who seemed to enter entirely into the spirit of the thing, dropped the sack quietly over her head, and stopped her flow of language.
‘Now, take her outside and put her out at the back door, and mind and shut the door securely after her,’ remarked the King, with a sigh of relief.
Six of the pages immediately caught hold of her and dragged her out, and the other six were about to follow tosee the sport when the King stopped them.
‘Can any one of you cook at all?’ he said.
One of the pages stood out and professed to be able to do a little in that way.
‘Well, then,’ said the King decidedly, ‘all six of you go to the kitchen and see what you can find there; and mind you, if I don’t have a breakfast in five minutes, I’ll—well,I’llsee about it.’
When the pages had gone, he turned to the Princess and said:
‘That’s what I always have to put up with. Only the other day the man who cleans the library windows flung his towel in my face and refused to work any more for me, and all because I told him that his coat wasn’t in the fashion.’
‘But wasn’t that rather an unwise proceeding, papa?’ asked Ernalie, dubiously.
‘Do you think so?’ asked the King. ‘If I said that the cut of your dress was rather outlandish—and it is, by the bye—you wouldn’t fling something at me, would you?’
‘No; but then I’m your dutiful daughter, you see.’
‘Well, but he ought to be my dutiful son, for I’m the father of my country.’
‘Well, but then, you see, sons are not always dutiful—daughters always are.’
‘Or they ought to be,’ said his Majesty.
‘It’s the same thing, isn’t it?’
‘Do you think so?’ said the King, in a tone that showed he doubted it.
Just at this moment the pages entered, bringing the breakfast; and they sat down to it.
I needn’t say it was much better than the first one, although I don’t remember exactly what it consisted of; however, they did good justice to it, for Ernalie was rather hungry.
Just as they had finished, the King threw down his knife and fork and looked as if he had just remembered something dreadful.
‘What is the matter, papa?’ asked the Princess in alarm.
And the King burst out:
‘There, now! I knew I’d forgotten something!’ he said. ‘Run out, all six of you,’ he went on, addressing the pages, ‘and set the joy-bells pealing, and send messengers throughout the land. Quick!’
But when they had gone, he calmed down and said:
‘Now, Ernalie, tell me where you’ve been.’
So she began and told it all through, and the King listened quietly till she had finished. Then he said:
‘Ah! You’ve had some wonderful adventures, and you’ve come back safe out of them—only, I should very much like to see this wonderful feather.’
So the Princess showed him thefeather in her hat, which she had laid on a chair; the King looked at it very carefully, and then he said:
‘H’m. Looks a very ordinary feather. How does it work? I should like to see.’
‘You won’t see much,’ said the Princess with a smile, as she put it on and vanished.
The King looked astonished.
‘Why, where are you?’ he said.
‘I’m just where I was before, papa,’ answered the Princess.
‘But I don’t believe it,’ the King said, and he looked under the table. ‘You’ve hidden yourself behind something—or some other trick.’
He was rather too startled to think of what his words meant exactly.
‘You are a sceptical old papa for any one to have to do with; but I’ll soon prove it to you.’
And she walked quietly behind his chair, and blew in his ear, which wasa rather rude thing to do, on the whole.
‘Perhaps that will blow the disbelief out of your head,’ she said, laughing to see how her unfortunate father shook his head in surprise.
‘Oh yes,’ he replied, ‘I’m quite convinced, and I don’t need any more; and I’d much rather see what you’re up to, so just take the feather off, there’s a good girl.’
And the Princess did as she was told, and the King said:
‘Ah! there you are. Don’t put it on again; I’ve had quite enough of it. Now I can understand how it was that you did it all. But I can’t understand why you didn’t let the young man save himself. You might just as well have lent him the feather, and let him go and get drowned.’
‘But I didn’t want him to get drowned,’ said the Princess.
‘Why not?’ said the King.
‘Because his father and mother tookme in, and saved me from Wopole, and it wouldn’t have been a great return for their kindness to let their only son be killed, and besides I——’ But her Royal Highness stopped.
‘You what?’ said her father.
‘I mean he——’ and she stopped again.
‘Oh, it’s him this time, is it? What’s the matter with you?’ he said in astonishment. ‘You don’t mean to say that you’re in love with one another? Now I call that too bad. Here have I promised you to three dukes, and you’ve gone and fallen in love with a Prince. Now I shall have no end of a nuisance with them.’
‘I won’t marry them, at any rate,’ said Ernalie energetically.
‘I don’t want you to marrythem—one’s quite enough at a time.’
‘But I won’t marry one of them, and I’m the principal person concerned.
And the Princess began to cry,and that of course softened the heart of her father.
‘There, there,’ he said, as if he were soothing a baby. ‘Don’t cry; you shall marry the Prince, if you can get him—only it’s rather awkward for me. I can’t tell the dukes that you’re engaged to a Prince that can’t be got at. I’m afraid the only thing to do will be to have all their heads cut off. That’ll keep them quiet, at any rate. If I were you I’d send this young man a letter to tell him where you are.’
‘But I’m afraid it wouldn’t reach him,’ said the Princess.
‘Then I don’t see what’s to be done,’ said the King perplexedly. ‘However, I shall give a grand ball to-morrow, and if I were you I should go and have a dress made at once. Send for the Court dressmaker, and tell her that if the dress isn’t ready by then you’ll turn her out of her place; and then when you’ve done that gointo the library, and take a book and read. I’ve got a whole lot of work to do this morning; but I shall have finished by one, and then I shall have the day to myself.’
‘But can’t I stay with you while you work? I will be very quiet.’
But the King shook his head.
‘No—there’s a good girl. I’ve got a whole lot of people to give audience to, and they’ll take up such a lot of time congratulating you that I shall not get a stroke of work done.’
So the Princess went and was measured for her ball-dress, and then into the library, and looked about for a book.
Most of them looked very dry and uninteresting, so the Princess took one at a venture.
It was calledThe Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer.
‘Chaucer,’ said the Princess to herself, ‘I’ve heard of him. I’ll just take it on to the terrace and read it in thearbour. It’s better than sitting in this stuffy old library.’
So she opened one of the windows that led on to the steps of the terrace, and taking the book with her, stepped out of the room.
On the terrace a peacock was airing itself with some pea-hens, and when it saw the Princess it raised its great fan-like tail to display itself to greater advantage, then it quivered all over until the feathers of its tail rattled one against the other, and the hens looked admiringly at him, and then sideways at one another, nodding their heads and clucking, as if to say:
‘Ha! what a fine fellow our master is, and what a splendid tail he’s got. Much better than that poor human being’s yellow stuff, which only moves when the wind blows it.’ And then they looked contemptuously at the Princess’s golden hair, and clucked to each other again, and followed thepeacock, which was strutting away to another part of the terrace.
So the Princess went and looked for the swans; but they were busily engaged right over at the other side of the lake, turning bottom upwards in a very undignified manner, and they refused to come for any amount of calling.
As there was nothing else to do, she went and sat down in a shady nook in the white marble wall, and began to look at her book.
‘I shall skip the “Introduction” and the “Prologue”—that’s always dry. Yes, let’s see, this will do—“The Knightes Tale.” It hasn’t got any apostrophe to “Knightes.” That’s bad grammar, I’m sure. However, I’ll go on.’
So she settled herself in a comfortable position with the book on her lap, and began again: