THE CITY OF THE WINTER SLEEP
Once upon a time, by the banks of a noble river flowing to the sea through a mountain-girdled plain, stood a city of the wisest people in the world. Instead of spending the winter as others did, huddled over smoky fires, freezing ears and noses, bundling themselves up in a pother of clothes, and being cross at breakfast, these sensible folk simply retired to their dwellings, locked their doors, drew down their curtains, put on their nightcaps, got into bed, andslept the winter away. The north wind howled there about the shuttered houses and woke no citizen from his dreams; in the empty market place and the silent streets, stainless and untrodden lay the snow. But when the leaves were the size of a mouse’s ear, and the singing birds had returned from their winter pilgrimage, the sleepy citizens would wake, rub their eyes, stretch their arms, and come yawning to open their windows on the sunlight and the spring.
The King of this remarkable city, I must tell you, had three children, the two elder of whom were sons and the youngest a daughter. Now, as occasionally happens, the two sons were models of royal deportment, whilst their sister, the slender, dark-haired, and dark-eyed Princess Theolette, was as wilful and spirited as a mountain bird.
Now, on a day when the year was growing old and only a few half-withered flowers were to be gathered in the fields, it chanced that Theolette, who had been idling about with little to do, took it into her head to pay a visit to the royal library. It was very quiet there, the red autumn sun was shining through the great windows, a million motes of dust danced in the broad and ruddy beam, and Theolette, curled in a huge red-leather easy-chair, had great difficulty in keeping awake. Presently her eyes lit upon a large green book entitled,Winter Time, and this Theolette took from its place and opened in her lap.
Somewhat to her disappointment, the print within the old book was in a foreign language, but the pictures—they would have kept anyone from sleeping! There were pictures of snowy mountain-tops, of bright, frozen lakes with people skating on them, of attacks on snow forts, of snowstorms in pleasant country villages, and of belfries agleam with snow beneath the moon. Now, although Theolette had never seen the winter or any snow or ice and could hardly make anything out of some of the pictures, she could see well enough that here was something strange, and new, and wonderful indeed. And then and there she resolved to run away during the winter sleep, see the winter world, and return before the city woke to the coming of the spring!
Shorter grew the golden days, and longer the still cold nights, and presently the great day of the winter sleep was at hand. A trumpeter, posted in the tower of dreams, at sunrise called the city to its last morn of waking life; and scarce had his last notes faded, ere a murmur of bustle and preparations began to rise from every household in the town.
At sunset, in accordance with ancient custom, the edict of sleep was read to the people from a balcony of the palace. This venerable law, I must tell you, summoned all good citizens to go to sleep, and recited the dreadful penalties prepared for all who should dare to stay awake. When the gathering had melted away, and the streets were empty save for a hurrying citizen or two on some belated errand, the gates were locked and the waters of the river turned into the moat about the town.
The enchanted chimes of sleep, which rang of themselves, were to sound at the midnight hour.
Little by little, the royal palace became as silent as a stone. A darkness of slumber and night filled the vast echoing halls, and from afar through the gloom came the faint tramp, tramp of the hob-nailed night-watch on the last round of the year.
After attending the ceremonial winter good-night of the royal family, Theolette hurried away to her own chamber.
“I mustn’t fall asleep now,” said she, clenching her fist, “because if I do, I’ll sleep until the spring!” And with a heart that went thump, thump, thump in the darkness, she waited the midnight hour.
Suddenly the first warning bell—Nightcaps On!—struck one great solemn rolling clang which swept out over the city and ebbed away humming to the stars.
And now, after a pause, sounded the second bell—Lights out!Theolette sat down in a great chair, arose, walked about, sat down again, and arose once more. Would the third bell never ring?
Presently—Everybody to bed!—boomed the third bell. Theolette put her fingers to her ears. Solemn and sweet and strange and golden, the enchanted chimes were sounding their fairy tune.
Now, once the song of the chimes had come to an end and the throbbing humming of the last grave chord had melted into the air, Theolette went to her window, drew back the curtain, and looked forth over the city sleeping in the starlight. How strange and still they were, those dark streets winding like crooked brooks through banks of huddled roofs. Suddenly the Princess uttered a little cry of surprise!
Far away across the sleeping city, in a little house by the wall, a yellow light was gleaming! And now the light moved, went from window to window, vanished, reappeared, and vanished yet again.
Someone else was awake in the city! Who could it be?
Puzzled, but not the littlest bit afraid, the Princess went to her wardrobe and dressed herself as well as she could in a little red hunting-dress and cap. Then, throwing her warmest mantle over her shoulders and taking a lighted candle with her, she made her way from her chamber down the great stairway to the palace door. Fantastic shadows leaped and swayed as the Princess, holding aloft her taper, descended the long broad flight, and somewhere a huge clock ticked on, solemn, dutiful, and forgotten. Opening the door gently, Theolette stepped forth into the dark street and hurried along it to the royal gate of the city wall.
All seemed well; the gates were locked, and the drawbridge of the moat was lifted high above the black and starry waters. Standing motionless for a moment in one of the shadowy nooks of the giant portal, Theolette listened for a footfall or a sound, but heard only the sigh of the night wind and the ripple of water in the moat. Reassured by the silence, the Princess lowered the drawbridge, unlocked the great gate with her father’s own key, opened one vast swinging door, locked it behind her, and walked off bravely into the dark and lonely land.
The runaway Princess stepped forth into the dark street and, taper in hand, hurried to the gate of the city wall
The runaway Princess stepped forth into the dark street and, taper in hand, hurried to the gate of the city wall
The runaway Princess stepped forth into the dark street and, taper in hand, hurried to the gate of the city wall
On the following morning, a little after the dawn, the Princess arrived at a country town just over the frontier of her father’s realm, and there she sought out the inn and made preparations for her runaway winter-pilgrimage. From the host, a little white horse she purchased, and from the host’s fourth son, who happened to be a tailor, a fine warm riding-habit of country wool. Thus clad, away into the winter world galloped the adventurous Theolette. Of what befell her, you soon shall hear.
And what a wonderful pilgrimage it was through the world of ice and snow! I wish I had time to tell you of all she saw and of all she did, of how the first snowstorm so pleased her that she almost lost her way in the whirl of the flakes, of her first look at a bit of ice, of her visit to the winter festival of the Fairy of the Snows, of how she danced the minuet at the polar bears’ ball, and of how she rode Aldebaran, the skating horse, up and down the ice lakes of the wild. White as snow was this marvelous animal, and of blue leather edged with white were his saddle and bridle, whilst the skates he wore were of the blackest and shiniest adamant. You should have seen him skating o’er the lakes, now striking out with this hoof, now with that; his head held high, his long silky tail streaming in the wind. And Theolette thought, as she rode, of the old book in the royal library and of the City of the Winter Sleep far away, with the storm crying unheeded through its dream.
And now the winter waned, a venturesome bird or two returned to rock on budding twigs, the earth began to turn from brown to green, and Theolette knew that she must hasten back at once. Alas! one pleasant morning, as she was nearing the borders of her father’s land, a band of robbers suddenly sprang at her out of a wood, bound her securely, and hurried her to their castle with the intention of demanding a ransom. Once there, they pushed the Princess roughly into a little cobwebby turret-chamber, slammed and locked the heavy oaken door behind her, and left her to her thoughts.
From her window in the turret, Theolette could see the highroad leading toward the castle through the wooded lowlands, and the broad winding stream of a mighty river—the very river, indeed, which flowed by the walls of the City of the Winter Sleep. With every warm and sunny hour the spring was driving old winter from the land, the scales of tree buds were unsealing, frogs were piping in tiny triumph from every marsh and pool, and there were pleasant earthy smells in the air.
“The spring awakening is surely close at hand,” thought Theolette. “WhatshallI do?”
Now, one sunny morning as the disconsolate Princess walked to and fro in her little room, it came to pass that she heard from the road below a pleasant voice singing a strange old song of her own land. It was a song about a soldier who had fought in the wars and returned in the spring to plough the dear earth he had loved and defended. And, hearing the old song, Theolette uttered a joyful cry and ran to the window. A youth in a student’s dress of green stood in the highroad directly under the window; he had heard the cry, and stood looking up at the sunny wall.
“Stay, good sir,” cried Theolette, “and tell me who you are that sings a song of mine own land.”
To this the pleasant youth replied that he was but a student who had stolen away from the City of Winter Sleep, and was even then hastening back lest his absence be discovered. And Theolette remembered the light she had seen in the old house by the city wall.
And now Theolette told the student of her adventures and begged of him to aid her. You may be sure that the student, who was a fine brave fellow, needed no second entreaty! Being a clever youth as well as a brave one, he skillfully managed to lure the robbers away from the castle that very eve, and fling a coiled rope to the Princess. And, hand over hand, with feet pressed close against the cord, down came the adventurous Theolette.
Now, one of the robbers, a small one, had ridden away with Theolette’s little white horse, so the student hurried Theolette to the river bank where a boat lay waiting. Alas, the vessel was scarce large enough for a single passenger!
“See, Princess, the river is in flood,” said the youth, “and you have but to step into this vessel and be carried swiftly to the city.”
“But what of you, brave friend?” said Theolette. “You will be late now, and your flight from the city will be known.”
“Do not fear, Princess,” replied the student with a queer, half-merry smile. “There is still time, and I can make haste as well as any man. To tell you truth, I have never felt at home in the city, anyway. But enough of words. Hasten, Lady Theolette, for the robbers will soon return.”
And now Theolette found herself on the mighty river in the full hurly-burly of its springtide flood. On and on she swept through the night, league after league, now floating quietly over lowlands turned to lakes; now borne headlong with the torrent down valleys and ravines. Solitary and fugitive, one great star shone close above the distant peaks.
Just as the dawn was streaking the east with rose and gray, the Princess gained her father’s city. The drawbridge was still lowered across the moat, the city was still sealed in its winter dream.
After thrusting the little boat once more forth into the full current of the river, Theolette ran to the palace and went to her own room. With a little sigh, she folded away the worn red hunting-dress and cap she had been wearing—the riding-habit of country wool had been left behind somewhere at the return of spring—and crept into her little silken bed. So weary was she that scarce had her head touched the pillow ere she was sound asleep.
When she opened her eyes again, a whole day and a night had passed, the City had risen from the winter sleep, and her mother stood bending over her with an amused smile. Loud and clear and joyous the silver bells of the spring-awakening were ringing o’er the town.
“Good gracious, Theolette,” said her mother, “but what a sleeper you are! I’ve been shaking you for the last ten minutes. Get up now, that’s a dear, and wear your rose frock to the grand spring breakfast.”
A little later Theolette, feeling just the tiniest bit bewildered, sat down to breakfast with her father the King, her mother the Queen, and the two Princes her brothers. And there, moved by an impulse of truth and courage—for, though wilful, Theolette was as faithful to high honor as a vowed knight—the Princess told them all the tale of her runaway adventures. To her surprise, she could win none of them to believe her story!
“You have been dreaming, Theolette,” said her father, gravely shaking his head and reaching for a royal muffin. “But I called you myself!” exclaimed her mother, pausing from her royal marmalade. And as for Theolette’s two brothers, they pretended that polite disbelief which young men find so delightfully irritating when teasing their sisters.
Weeks passed, spring followed winter into the cupboard of time, and Theolette could find no one to believe her story. Weary of insisting, and shaken by the unbelief of those about her, the Princess began to wonder in her own heart if it were not all a dream. Nothing remained of it all, and it was so like a dream!
Her head bowed low, her eyes full of doubt and memories, the Princess mused all day, and finally grew so pale that her royal parents became quite alarmed, and took counsel to send their daughter on a long visit to her aunt, the Queen of the Golden Mountain. On the morn of departure, Theolette walked to the great hall of state to say farewell.
“A dream, a dream; was it only a dream?” thought Theolette. And she saw again the winter world, and the polar bears’ ball, with the candles burning in chandeliers of icicles, and the skating horse, and the pleasant youth in green who had saved her from the robbers. Could it have been only a dream? With a sigh and a doubting shake of her head, the Princess took her place at the head of her ladies and approached her father and mother.
And now, of a sudden, from the sunny street below the pillared window, a voice was heard singing. And the voice sang an old song of a soldier who had fought in the wars and returned in the spring to plough the dear earth he had loved and defended. A hush fell over the astounded assembly.
“Stop, I pray you!” cried Theolette, turning pale as the new-fallen snow. “O hasten, good soldiers, and bring yon singer here before me!”
And now a group of guards rushed through the swinging doors to do her bidding. Presently they returned, bringing with them the student who had saved Theolette from the robbers! He was very pale, there were irons on his wrists, and two burly turnkeys, dressed in red and black, stood beside him. And, beholding Theolette, the poor youth drew in his breath with a start and met her gaze with strange eyes.
“Speak! What does this mean? Who is this fellow?” cried the King, rising from his throne.
“May it please Your Majesty,” replied a turnkey, falling on one knee, “this youth is a student of the College of Dreams who disobeyed the edict of sleep and ran away from the city. He was captured as he tried to return after the spring awakening, brought before the Court of Dreams, and sentenced to pay the penalty. We were on our way with him to the dungeons under the river when the royal guards surrounded us and led us here. What is your will, O King?”
“My will is that the judgment be obeyed,” replied the King. “Lead him forth to his doom!”
“Nay, hear me, father,” cried Theolette. “If he is guilty, so am I! I, too, disobeyed the edict; I, too, ran away. This is the brave youth who so gallantly preserved me from the robbers! Oh, will you not believe me now? It is not a dream—it never was a dream!”
At these words, a stir of excitement swept through the vast hall; indeed, it seemed as if all there were trying to talk, to protest, to support, to dispute, to explain. The uproar was at its height when the boom of a cannon first quieted, then roused the hubbub to an even greater pitch.
“A royal visitor!” exclaimed the King. “What can this mean? Let no one stir!”
Presently, there was a fanfare of many trumpets, the great portals of the hall swung open, and there entered a crowned King and his train.
“O King of the City of the Winter Sleep,” cried the newcomer, “hear me, for I have come from afar and in great haste. I am the King of the North and I seek my only son, Prince Florimond, who was stolen from his cradle twenty years ago. The Fairy of the Isles has revealed that I shall find him here. He dwells in a house by the city wall and is a student of the College of Dreams. I pray you search for him at once, for my heart hungers to behold him!”
“Florimond? Florimond?” cried the Lord Chancellor of the College, stepping forward, “there is but one Florimond in the city and, as I live, this youth is he!” And presently all beheld that the great King and the runaway student were indeed father and son. To pardon the runaway youth and loose him from his bonds was but a moment’s task. This done, a royal herald proclaimed a three days’ holiday.
On the last evening of the festival, Florimond and Theolette walked alone to a great balcony and looked forth over the city, the river, and the mountain-circled plain. It was midsummer eve, the warm night was sweet with the fragrance of many flowers, and the music of lutes and viols sounded faintly through the pleasant air.
“Was it a wonder that I ran away,” said the Prince, laughing, “when I wasn’t born a winter sleeper?”
“The winter—ah, what fun it all was!” answered Theolette. “I wonder if I shall ever see it again.”
“You shall see it every year if you will only consent to be Princess of the North,” replied Florimond, with a gallant smile. And then and there the two runaways pledged their troth. The wedding over, Florimond returned to his own land, taking Theolette with him; and, unless you have heard to the contrary, they are living there happily still.