Part 17

The betrothal was celebrated at the foster-parents’, and the wedding soon followed, with two celebrations,—one in the secret empire, and one among ordinary mortals. Rita left her work place and opened a milliner’s shop herself, and the poet, in his happiness, wrote the most beautiful poems and became very famous. During the first year of their marriage, they often went to the wood, and the young husband found great pleasure in sitting in his princely robes upon the golden throne, beside his imperial consort. But at the end of a year the stork brought a little child, and for some time Rita could not go out, and her poet did not know whether he could appear at court alone. After a month Rita went to the wood again for the first time, taking with her her baby, on which she had put the little shirt with the gold crown, which her foster-father had given to her on her wedding day, and descended to the secret empire to present her child to the courtiers. There was great rejoicing and paying of homage, and the White Lady took the little one in her arms, caressed it, and whispered ardent wishes for its happiness. When her faithful subjects had grow calm again, Rita addressed them in a very grave tone: “Noble lords and ladies,” she said, “we shall see each other to-day for the last time. My work, my child, my husband, claim all my hours, and I no longer have any half-days of leisure to spend in your midst. Your loyalty touches me, but unfortunately it is of no use. Return to Thule, make your peace with the King of the Pole, and remember me faithfully, as I shall always remember you. And now, farewell.”

The ladies and gentlemen fell upon their knees. All were sobbing. Tears rolled down the cheeks of even the old guards. The White Lady, weeping softly, clasped Rita in her arms and would not let her go. She gently released herself, took up her little child again, gave her hand kindly to all, and slowly approached the door. Here she cast one last look at the court, the hall, her crown, and her royal robes, kissed the White Lady for the last time, and in an instant was in the upper world.

At the foot of the old beech, Rita said sadly to her husband: “The sacrifice is made. The imperial splendor is over forever.”

“No,” replied the poet, bending the knee before her. “To me you are and always will be the empress, as I felt and recognized you before you had revealed yourself to me in your magnificence, and so you always will be to your children also, now and forever.”

And so it was. Wreaths were afterward bestowed on the poet, which he laid at the feet of his wife. They became prosperous and distinguished, had numerous children, reared them to be excellent men and women, whom they taught that they must be better and more competent than ordinary people; and though no one of them became an emperor or an empress, they were all such estimable citizens, that, after many, many years, when Rita was dead, the grateful city placed a monument on the spot upon the shore where little Margarita Bölgebarn had been found.

THE TAME LION

Once upon a time there lived in the Levant, in a castle surrounded by palm groves, a wealthy nobleman. He was very fond of hunting, and often went out to chase gazelles and boars. But in the wooded mountains which surrounded his estate there were often also tracks of great beasts of prey: bears, panthers, and even lions, and then he could not rest until he had driven away or killed them, and thus rid the country of them. One day lions had again appeared in the neighborhood and destroyed the farmers’ cows and sheep. They came running to the castle with cries of grief, begging for help. The nobleman at once organized a hunt. He soon discovered numerous tracks, which showed that there was a family, perhaps a whole troop of lions. After a sharp pursuit, they succeeded in surrounding the robbers in a valley. There were a terribly large and fierce lion, his lioness, three cubs, and another full-grown lion, perhaps a brother or a friend of the family. When the huge lion saw himself driven into a corner, he said to his wife: “Save yourself and the little ones. I will face the men until you are safe. Then I will follow. If I should fall, remember me, and bring up the cubs to be capable lions.”

“I will stay with you,” cried the other lion, standing, eager for battle, at his side.

“No,” commanded the father of the family. “Cover the retreat of my wife and children. I will fight my battle with the men alone.”

Springing from the bushes with a terrible roar, he dashed at the hunters, thus attracting to himself all the arrows and spears, and the whole pack of dogs also rushed upon him. His companion took advantage of this to lead the lioness and her three cubs out of the valley in the opposite direction. The few beaters who were stationed there moved aside in terror, and when the flying lions had the beaters behind them, they hurried with long leaps up the mountain, on whose other side they would be safe.

The lion which had made the stand had struck down with heavy blows of his mighty paws the first dogs which ventured to rush upon him; but, pierced by numerous wounds, soon fell himself. He yielded up his life with one last roar, which thundered through the valley like a farewell to his fleeing family. Not until he lay dead in his blood on the ground did the hunters look after the other lions, and discovered them on the top of the mountain which they had already reached. Instantly a new and eager chase began, with shouts, winding of horns, and barking of dogs. The lioness and her companions had a considerable start, and could easily have escaped their enemies, but the three cubs could not keep up with them, and fell behind. The hunters and the pack came nearer and nearer, arrows were already whizzing around them, the little ones uttered a whine of fear, and their mother stopped.

“Forward! forward!” roared her companion, sternly.

“I will not leave my children to fall into the hands of human beings,” replied the lioness. Then she quickly but tenderly licked their eyes and noses, saying, “We must carry them, they cannot keep up.”

She seized two in her mouth by the skin at the back of the neck, the devoted friend took the third in the same way, and they continued their flight. The lioness, whose strength was doubled by her maternal love, dashed forward with tremendous bounds. But the male lion was not used to carrying a cub in his mouth, the burden delayed him, and he could not follow the lioness. The hunters were close at his heels, he lost his presence of mind and dropped the cub intrusted to his care, that he might fly faster. This cowardly forgetfulness of duty did not save him. He was struck by several spears, and fell dying. The cub, which was vainly trying with its little soft paws to run after its mother, who was already far away, was instantly surrounded by the pack, which would have made short work of it if their master had not jumped into the middle of the barking, howling, snapping circle and driven the dogs back. Seizing the spitting, scratching little lion, he put it in a bag, and gave the signal with the horn that the hunt was over; for he saw that the lioness had escaped, and he was very well satisfied with having killed two grown lions and captured a lion cub alive. When the lioness saw that the hunters were no longer following her, she lay down with her two rescued little ones to rest and wait for her companion with the third. As he did not come, she bravely set out, after several hours, to look for him, but found only his skinned carcass and no trace of the third little one. She burst into a piercing wail of grief and dragged herself slowly back to the two cubs she had left. This day’s hunt had robbed her of a husband and a child, without counting the friend. Her lamentations for the dead filled all the animals in the desert with terror all night long.

Meanwhile the little lion had been taken to the castle, where all the members of the household gathered around him to admire him. He was the dearest little creature, no larger than a big cat, with fine yellow fur, and a heavy tassel at the end of his tail. At first he behaved badly, biting and scratching everybody who wanted to pat him. But gradually he grew quiet and became trusting and tame. At his age people forget quickly and easily accommodate themselves to changes. His mother and brothers, and the free life in the forests and desert, soon vanished from his memory; he knew only the human beings who fed him liberally and treated him kindly; he willingly allowed himself to be petted, thanking them for it by loud purring and licking with his little rough tongue, and became a favorite with everybody. He slept in his master’s room on soft rugs, played and tussled with the children of the family in the castle courtyard, and ran after the nobleman in his walks like a dog. He had been given the name of Samson, and came obediently when he was called. He considered himself a member of the family and clung to the persons whom he regarded as his relatives with all the warmth of his lion heart.

He was by no means popular with the other domestic animals. The horses snorted and kicked if he put his head into their stable or came near them in the meadow behind the castle, the dogs growled and showed their teeth, the fowls scattered before him, flapping their wings and squawking. He was friendly to them all, but they all repulsed him unkindly. Only the cat was gracious from the beginning and persistently sought his society. She treated him respectfully and addressed him in the tone of an inferior. When he grew larger and became a sensible young lion, she made remarks upon his manner to the other animals. “You ought not to be too familiar with the rabble of horses and dogs,” she said.

“Why not?” asked the lion. “Don’t we all live under the same roof? Are we not companions and friends?”

“No,” replied the cat, “you are a prince, and the others are a race of slaves. You are a lion, and the others are mares and curs. You treat them as your equals, and their gratitude is to hate you. They would gladly kill you.”

“I don’t believe it, cat,” cried the lion, indignantly.

“Yet it is so,” the cat insisted. “To human beings, too, you ought to be more mindful of your dignity as the son of a king. Do not give your heart to them. They will reward your love with ingratitude.”

“Now listen,” growled the lion. “I will not allow you to speak ill of my master and his family. I belong to them and they belong to me; we are one flesh and blood; I have my recognized place in the household, and nothing can separate us.”

The cat bowed humbly and stole sadly away, for the lion turned his back upon her.

Samson grew up to the full size and strength of his species. Yet his disposition did not change; he remained affectionate to the lord of the castle and his wife and children, his playmates, and friendly to all the domestic animals. But gradually they began to treat him differently. The mistress complained that he smelt badly and would not allow him to remain in her room. In order not to hurt his feelings, he was told that he had now grown up, and it was not proper for him to have his bed at night in his mistress’s room. He was given a sleeping place in the kennels; but the dogs declared that he was a stranger and an intruder; they refused to let him stay among them, and to prevent a riot in the pack, they were obliged to assign a special barn to the lion. The nobleman’s children no longer wanted to play with him; for although he submitted to everything from them and lovingly stroked and licked them when they cuffed and pulled him, they were secretly afraid of him. If he asked them to romp with him, according to their custom, in the castle courtyard, they sent him word by a servant that they had no time, they were busy with their teachers. It became uncomfortable for the neighboring landowners to meet him roaming freely about, when they came to the castle, and they accused the owner of carelessness. “Such beasts can never be trusted,” they said; “sooner or later their nature will break out.” They repeated this so often that he at last became uneasy and ordered Samson to be chained. When the servants prepared to obey this direction, the lion uttered a roar, which made them start back as fast as possible. They told their master that Samson rebelled against being confined, and the nobleman went down into the courtyard himself and said, “Be good, Samson, let us adorn you with this little chain.”

“But why?” the lion complained. “What have I done to deserve punishment?”

“It is no punishment,” replied the nobleman soothingly, caressingly placing, as he spoke, the thick, heavy chain around his neck; “it is a distinction. You shall ornament my courtyard by day, and be free at night.”

Samson hung his head and submitted quietly to his master’s will. Now he was a prisoner, scorned and mocked at by all the occupants of the courtyard. The horse kicked out at him as it passed, the dogs barked at him, and did all sorts of naughty things just beyond the reach of his paws, and even the fowls scratched and cackled boldly close in front of his terrible jaws. Samson would not notice it. He made himself believe that all these things were unintentional. “Horses kick because it is their nature,” he said to himself; “it is the nature of dogs to be dirty, and the hens show their touching confidence in me by going on with their affairs just under my nose.”

At night he was always released from his chain and walked around the castle walls, as a tireless watcher, until the morning. Neither enemy nor evil-doer dared to come near when he saw on the top of the wall, or behind the battlements of the tower, in the moonlight, his huge figure outlined against the dark sky, or on moonless nights heard the thunder of his voice. On hunting days, too, the lord of the castle unfastened Samson’s chain and took him with him. Then the lion conquered for him boars, aurochs, and bears, dragged the prey in his mouth to the castle, and did work which otherwise would have required twenty brave and strong huntsmen. And when it was all over, he patiently let the chain be put on again, licked the aching wounds which he had received in the battle with the strongest and most dangerous animals in the wilderness, and rejoiced that he had again been able to be useful to his master.

Then the house cat stole up to him and whispered in his ear: “Prince, now you see how they treat you! You ought not to submit to this unworthy fate any longer!”

“Unworthy fate? That, adorned with a magnificent chain, I am placed beside the gate as the most beautiful ornament of the castle?”

“Ah, Prince, you do not believe that yourself. Use the liberty which is given you; they want to profit by your strength in hunting! Stay in the forest! Remember that your home is there, that there you are master!”

But the lion started up and answered fiercely: “Not another word, or I’ll break your neck. My home is here in the castle. I am the kinsman and companion of its owners, and will not listen to your senseless tattle.”

Meanwhile his mother had never forgotten him. She mourned him for years and always remained in the neighborhood, because she hoped some time to learn what had happened to him after he had fallen into the hands of human beings. When the rumor began to spread among the animals of the woods and the wilderness that the lord of the castle was using a lion to help him in hunting, a lion, which, contrary to all justice and custom, attacked the sons of the desert and wrought more havoc among them than twenty men, it finally reached her ears also, and she rejoiced loudly, though the monkeys, peacocks, and gazelles brought the story to her in perplexity and anger. Her mother heart instantly suspected that the hunting lion of the castle lord was her own lost son, and she bade one of the two sons who had remained with her to make inquiries, and to try whether he could not approach his brother and bring him back to his family.

The lion set out one dark night, trotted swiftly over the desert, across the mountains, and through the forest to the palm grove, stole cautiously through it to the wall around the castle, and was just preparing, by the exertion of all his strength, to leap over it, when a terrible voice from above thundered, “Who goes there?” At the same instant he saw two large, fiery eyes glaring at him from the darkness.

The voice, which would have filled any other living creature with fright, made his heart throb joyfully, for he recognized it as that of one of his own kin. “A good friend!” he called back in a subdued tone; “come down to me, if you are free, and, if not, I will come up to you and set you at liberty.”

“Of course I am free,” replied the lion on the top of the wall, proudly; “but who are you?”

“I am a lion like yourself; more, I am your brother, your own flesh and blood. I have come to take you back to our mother, from whom men stole you when you were very small, and who has never ceased to mourn for you.”

“You lie!” the lion called back from the wall. “I am no lion, but an inhabitant of the castle; my brothers are the sons of the lord and lady of the castle. I have no others. Begone, or it will be the worse for you!”

The blood of the lion at the foot of the wall began to boil with rage. “Scoundrel!” he shouted angrily. “You have no lion soul. You have become a cowardly slave of man. Once more: will you return to us, or shall we finally thrust you out of our community?”

Samson uttered a roar, which echoed horribly from the distant mountains, “Begone, if you value your life!” His thundering voice waked all the inmates of the castle, the dogs began to bark furiously, people began to move about in all the rooms, weapons clanked, doors banged; the lion outside heard these threatening noises and thought it advisable to retreat. He hastened back through the forests and across the mountains to his mother in the desert, and reported the failure of his mission.

The lioness listened to his story with deep feeling. “I know now that my child is living. That is the main thing. We must not wonder that he is estranged from us. The cunning of men has poisoned his young mind. But it cannot be difficult to make the voice of blood speak. You did not understand how to manage him. I will go and talk with him myself. You shall see that I will bring you a brother who will be glad to have found his relatives again.”

She scarcely waited for night to close in before she set out for the castle. Her two sons and several neighbors and friends followed at a short distance, to aid her in case of danger. The lion was keeping watch that night even more carefully than usual, saw her coming a long distance off, and shouted a fierce “Halt!” before she had reached the foot of the castle wall.

The lioness’s strong heart trembled when she heard the challenge. She recognized the father’s voice in the son’s. “Your mother has come to take you home. My son, come down! Let me lick your dear face.”

“You are talking nonsense,” replied the lion, roughly. “I don’t know you. I am Samson, the comrade of men, and have nothing in common with such people as you. If you were not a woman, I would show you that I am not to be insulted with impunity.”

“Is this the way you speak to your mother, who has mourned you for years?”

“The devil is your son, not I,” Samson answered.

“Is it possible,” groaned the lioness, “you deny your own blood, you forget your origin, you shame the memory of your glorious father, who died for you? You cast off your mother, you serve the men who killed your father, and are your worst enemies—”

Samson’s only answer was to roar: “Loose the dogs! Send out the archers! The foe!”

The lioness saw that further efforts were useless, and she went back to the wilderness in bitter grief.

The next morning, when the lord of the castle put on Samson’s chain, as usual, he scolded him sharply.

“You must be crazy to make such a terrible racket as you have done for the last two nights. You roused us all out of our sleep.”

“Forgive me, master,” replied Samson, humbly; “there were lions around the castle with evil designs. I was obliged to do my duty as watchman.”

“Lions?” asked the nobleman, looking at Samson, suspiciously.

“Yes, my lord,” answered Samson; “and I advise you to arrange a great hunt without delay to destroy the band of robbers.”

The lord of the castle went out of the gate, searched in the neighborhood of the walls, and soon found numerous lion tracks on the ground. He called the neighbors together, they appeared with their packs of hounds in the castle courtyard, and set out with great tumult, shouting, and barking of dogs for the hunt. Samson waited vainly to be set free from his chain. When the lord of the castle passed him, he cried: “And I? Am I not going with you?”

“We shall hunt lions to-day,” replied the lord of the castle.

“That is just why I want to go,” said Samson.

“But they are your relatives,” observed the nobleman, “and it might be painful for you—”

Samson, deeply offended, interrupted: “My relatives? Have I deserved this from you? Do I no longer belong to you? What have I in common with the lion rabble? I beg you to let me share the hunt. You must not refuse me.”

“As you choose,” muttered the castle lord, and reluctantly unfastened the chain.