Part 1
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_The Poor Count’s Christmas_
[Illustration: ALL THE CHILDREN BEGAN TO DANCE GAYLY AROUND THE TREE.]
THE POOR COUNT’S CHRISTMAS
BY
FRANK R. STOCKTON
WITH SEVEN BLACK AND WHITE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM DRAWINGS BY
E. B. BENSELL
[Illustration: Decoration]
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
MCMXXVII
_First published in book form, 1927, by_
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_Printed in the United States of America_
ILLUSTRATIONS
All the children began to dance gayly around the tree (_in colors_) _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
The young giant was talking to a little fairy perched on his forefinger 18
The young giant Feldar compels the warden to open the sick giant’s castle-gate 30
Feldar interviews the sick giant 36
The young giant’s way of getting the key 44
Quite a procession was approaching the gate 58
The Count and his happy guests enjoy the Christmas feast 70
Count Cormo adopts the young giant 76
_The Poor Count’s Christmas_
THE POOR COUNT’S CHRISTMAS
Very many years ago there lived a noble Count, who was one of the kindest and best-hearted men in the world. Every day in the year he gave to the poor and helped the friendless, but it was at the merry Christmas-time that his goodness shone brightest. He had even vowed a vow that, as far as he was able to make them so, every child he knew should be happy Christmas-day.
Early every Christmas morning each boy and girl in the neighborhood who was old enough, and not too old, came to the castle of the Count Cormo, and there the Count and Countess welcomed them all, rich or poor, and through the whole day there were games, and festive merry-making, and good things to eat, and fun of every kind, and besides all this, there was a grand Christmas-tree, with a present on it for each of the eager, happy youngsters who stood around it.
But although the good Count had a castle and rich lands, he gave away so much money that he became poorer and poorer, so that at last he and his wife often found it hard to get the clothes and food they absolutely needed.
But this made no difference with the Christmas festivities. The Count was not now able to be very generous during the year, although he was always willing to divide a meal with a hungry person; but he managed so that the children could have their festival and their presents at Christmas. Year by year he had sold for this purpose some of the beautiful things which the castle contained, so that now there was scarcely enough furniture left for the actual use of himself and the Countess.
One night, about a week before Christmas, the Count and his wife sat in the great hall before a fire smaller and poorer than those which burned on the hearth of most of the cottagers in the surrounding country, for the cottagers could go into the woods and pick up sticks and twigs, whereas the Count had sold all his forests, so that he could not cut wood; and he had only one old man for outdoor work, and he had already picked up all the fallen branches within a wide circuit of the castle.
“Well, one thing is certain,” said the Countess Cormo, as she drew her chair nearer to the little pile of burning sticks, “and that is that we can not have the children here at Christmas this year.”
“Why not?” asked the Count.
“Because we have nothing to give them,” replied his wife. “We have nothing for them to eat, nothing to put on the tree, and no money to buy anything. What would be the good of their coming when we have nothing at all for them?”
“But we must have something,” said the Count. “Think of all the years that we have had these Christmas gatherings, and then think how hard it would be, both for us and the little ones, to give them up now we are growing old; and we may not be with the children another year. There are yet several days before Christmas; I can sell something to-morrow, and we can have the tree and everything prepared in time. There will not be so much to eat as usual, and the presents will be smaller, but it will be our good old Christmas in spite of that.”
“I should like very much to know what you are going to sell,” asked the Countess. “I thought we had already parted with everything that we could possibly spare.”
“Not quite,” said the Count. “There is our old family bedstead. It is very large; it is made of the most valuable woods, and it is inlaid with gold and silver. It will surely bring a good price.”
“Sell the family bedstead!” cried the Countess. “The bedstead on which your ancestors, for generations, have slept and died! How could you even think of such a thing! And what are we going to sleep on, I’d like to know?”
“Oh, we can get along very well,” said the Count. “There is a small bedstead which you can have, and I will sleep on the floor. I would much rather do that than have the children disappointed at Christmas-time.”
“On the floor! at your age!” exclaimed the Countess. “It will be the death of you! But if you have made up your mind, I suppose there is no use in my saying anything more about it.”
“Not the least in the world,” replied her husband, with a smile; and so she said no more.
It was on the morning of the next day that there came through the forest, not very far from the Count Cormo’s castle, a tall young giant. As he strode along, he appeared to be talking to the forefinger of his right hand, which he held up before him. He was not, however, talking to his forefinger, but to a little fairy who was sitting on it, chatting away in a very lively manner.
“And so,” said this little creature, “you are two hundred miles from your own home! What in the world made you take so long a journey?”
“I don’t call it very long,” replied the giant; “and I had to take it. There was nothing else to do. You see I have nothing to eat, or almost nothing, in my castle, and a person can’t get along that way. He must go and see about things.”
“And what are you going to see about?” asked the fairy.
“I am going to see if my grandfather’s uncle is dead. He is very rich and I am one of his heirs. When I get my share of his money, I shall be quite comfortable.”
[Illustration: THE YOUNG GIANT WAS TALKING TO A LITTLE FAIRY PERCHED ON HIS FOREFINGER]
“It seems to me,” said the fairy, “that it is a very poor way of living, to be waiting for other people’s money.”
“It is so,” replied the giant. “I’m tired of it. I’ve been waiting ever since I was a little boy.”
The fairy saw that her companion had not exactly understood her remark, but she said no more about it. She merely added, “It seems strange to hear you say that you once were little.”
“Oh, yes, I was,” said the giant. “At one time I was no taller than a horse.”
“Astonishing!” said the fairy, making believe to be very much surprized. “Now, when I was a baby, I was about the size of a pea.”
This made the giant laugh, but he said he supposed it must have been so, considering the present size, and then he said: “Talking of peas reminds me that I am hungry. We must stop somewhere, and ask for something to eat.”
“That will suit me very well, but don’t let us go to the same place,” said the fairy. “I expect you are dreadfully hungry.”
“All right,” replied the other. “There is a great house over in the valley, not more than fifteen miles away. I’ll just step over there, and you can go to Count Cormo’s castle. I’ll take you to the edge of the woods. When you’ve had your dinner, come back to this oak, and I’ll meet you; I’ve heard the Count is getting very poor, but he’ll have enough for you.”
So the giant put the fairy down on the ground, and she skipped along to the castle, while he stepped over to the house in the valley.
In an hour or two they met again at the great oak, and, the giant taking up his little friend on his forefinger, they continued their journey.
“You told me that Count Cormo was poor,” she said, “but I don’t believe you know how poor he really is. When I went there, he and his wife had just finished their dinner, and were sitting before the fire-place. I didn’t notice any fire in it. They were busy talking, and so I did not disturb them, but just climbed up on the table to see what I could find to eat. You haven’t any idea what a miserable meal they must have had. Of course there was enough left for me, for I need only a few crumbs, but everything was so hard and stale that I could scarcely eat it. I don’t see how they can live in that way. But after the meal, when I heard them talking, I found out how poor they really were.”
“It wasn’t exactly the proper thing to sit there and listen to them, was it?” asked the giant.
“Perhaps not,” said the fairy, “but I did want to hear what they were saying. So I sat quite still. They were talking about the Christmas-tree, and all the other good things they give the children every year; and although they are so poor, they are going to do just the same this year.”
“I don’t see how they can,” said the giant.
“The Count is going to sell his family bedstead,” replied his companion.
The young giant stopped short in the path.
“You don’t mean to say,” he exclaimed, “that the celebrated family bedstead of the Cormo family is to be sold to give the children a Christmas-tree!”
“That is exactly what I mean,” replied the fairy.
“Well, well, well!” said the giant, resuming his walk. “I never heard of such a thing in all my born days. It’s dreadful; it’s pitiful!”
“Indeed it is,” said the fairy.
“It ought to be stopped,” added the giant. “He shouldn’t be allowed to do such a thing.”
“Indeed he shouldn’t,” the fairy said.
And thus they went on lamenting and regretting the poor Count’s purpose, for about eleven miles. Then they came to a cross-road through the forest.
“I’ll go down here,” said the giant, “and leave you among your friends at Fairy Elms, where you want to go.”
“I’m not sure that I do want to go there just now,” said the fairy. “I think I should like to go with you to your grandfather’s uncle’s castle, and see what your prospects are. If you find he is still alive, shall you wait?”
“I guess not,” said the giant, laughing. “But you can come along with me, and we’ll see how things stand.”
* * * * *
Before very long, they came to a great castle, and a warder stood before the gate.
“Ho, warder!” cried the giant when he came up. “How goes it with my grandfather’s uncle, the old giant Omscrag?”
“He has been dead a month,” said the warder, “and his property is all divided among his heirs.”
“That is not so,” roared the giant. “I am one of his heirs, and I haven’t got anything.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” said the warder. “I was told to give that message to every one who came, and I’ve given it to you.”
“Who told you to give it?” cried the giant.
“My master, Katofan, who is the old giant’s principal heir, and who now owns the castle.”
“Katofan!” exclaimed the giant. “What impudence! He’s a ninth cousin by marriage. Where is he? I want to see him.”
“I don’t think he is well enough to see anybody to-day,” said the warder.
[Illustration: THE YOUNG GIANT FELDAR COMPELS THE WARDEN TO OPEN THE SICK GIANT’S CASTLE-GATE]
“Open that gate!” the giant roared, “or I shall plunge your family into woe!”
The warder turned pale, and opened the gate as wide as it would go, while the giant, with the fairy on his finger, walked boldly in.
In a large inner hall, sitting before a great fire, they saw a giant so tall and thin that he looked as if he had been made of great fishing-poles. He turned uneasily in his chair when he saw his visitor, and was going to say something about being too unwell to receive company, when our young giant, whose name was Feldar, interrupted him by calling out, in a tremendous voice:
“Well, now, Katofan, I should like to know what all this means! How did you come to be heir to this castle?”
“Because it descended to me from my good old relative and friend,” said the other.
“I expect there are a hundred heirs, who have a better right to it than you,” said our giant. “The truth is, no doubt, that you were here when my grandfather’s uncle died, and that you took possession, and have since kept everybody out.”
“Oh, no,” said the thin giant, “the other heirs have had a share of the fortune.”
“How many of them?” said Feldar, “and how much did they get?”
“As many as two or three of them,” said the other, “and they got some very nice things in the way of ornaments and curiosities.”
“Well,” said Feldar, stretching himself up high, “I am one of the heirs to this property, and I want my share of it. Who attends to the dividing business? Do you do it yourself?”
“Oh, no!” said the thin giant. “I am not well enough for that. I cannot go about much. But I will send for my dividing-agent. I had to employ one, there was so much to do. He will see that you get your share.”
He then rang a bell, and a small man appeared. When the fairy saw him, she could not help laughing, but her laugh was such a little one that no one noticed it. He had a bushy head of hair, which was as black as ink on one side and as white as milk on the other. Looking at him from one side, he seemed quite young, and from the other side, quite old.
[Illustration: FELDAR INTERVIEWS THE SICK GIANT]
“Flipkrak,” said the thin giant, “this is another heir to this property; we overlooked him when we made our division. I wish you would take him, as you did the others, and let him choose something that he would like to have.”
“Certainly,” said Flipkrak. “This way, good sir,” and he went out of a side-door, followed closely by Feldar.
“How would you like a hinge?” cried the thin giant, as they reached the door. “There are some very handsome and odd hinges, nearly new. If you take one, you might some day get another to match it, and then you would have a nice pair all ready when you put up a new door.”
Feldar stopped a moment in the doorway.
“I’ll look at them,” he answered, and then went on.
“Here, good sir,” said Flipkrak, showing the young giant into a large room, “is a collection of most beautiful articles. You can choose any one of them, or even two if you like. They will be admirable mementos of your deceased relative.”
Feldar looked around. There were all sorts of brass and iron ornaments, old pieces of furniture and various odds and ends, of little value.
“A nice lot of rubbish,” said the young giant. “If I ever have any holes to fill up, on my ground, I may send for a few wagon-loads of it. Suppose we look through the rest of the castle?”
“Oh, good sir,” said the dividing-agent, “the things in the rest of the castle belong to my good master!”
“You can come if you choose,” said Feldar, striding away, “or you can stay behind,” and the poor man, frightened, ran after him as fast as he could.
The young giant walked through several of the vast rooms of the castle. “I see you have a great deal of very fine furniture here,” he said to Flipkrak, “and I need furniture. I will mark some of it with this piece of chalk, and you can send it to me.”
“Oh, yes, good sir,” cried the dividing-agent, quite pleased at this. “We can send it to you after you go away.”
Feldar took a piece of chalk from his pocket, and marked enough furniture to furnish an ordinary castle.
“This kind of chalk will not rub off,” he said, “and I’ve marked the things where it won’t show. But don’t overlook any of them. Now, where are your money-vaults?”
“Oh, good sir!” cried the dividing-agent, “you can’t go there, we don’t divide any of–I mean we haven’t any money-vaults!”
“Give me the key,” said Feldar.
“Oh, good sir!” cried Flipkrak, shaking with terror, “I must not let that go out of my keeping–I mean I haven’t got it.”
The giant made no answer, but taking the dividing-agent by the heels, he held him upside down in the air, and shook him. A big key dropped from his pockets.
“That’s the key, no doubt,” said the giant, putting the man down, and picking up the key. “I can find the vault by myself. I won’t trouble you any more.”
But as he went down to the lower parts of the castle, the dividing-agent ran after him, wailing and tearing his two-colored hair.
[Illustration: THE YOUNG GIANT’S WAY OF GETTING THE KEY]
When he reached the money-vault, Feldar easily opened the door and walked in. Great bags of gold and silver, each holding about a bushel, were piled up around the walls. Feldar took out his piece of chalk, and marked about a dozen of those bags which held the gold coin.
“Oh, that’s right, good sir,” cried Flipkrak, feeling a little better. “We can send them to you after you go away.”
“What is in those small bags, on that shelf?” asked Feldar.
“Those are diamonds, good sir,” said the agent; “you can mark some of them if you like.”
“I will mark one,” said the giant to the fairy, who was securely nestled in the ruffles of his shirtbosom, “and that I will give to you.”
“To me!” exclaimed Flipkrak, who did not see the fairy; “what does he mean by that?”
“Thank you,” said the little creature, in delight. “Diamonds are so lovely! How glad I am that your grandfather’s uncle died!”
“You shouldn’t say that,” said the giant. “It isn’t proper.”
“But you feel glad, don’t you?” she asked.
“I don’t talk about it, if I do,” said Feldar. Then turning to the dividing-agent, he told him that he thought he had marked all the bags he wanted.
“All right, good sir,” said Flipkrak, “we will send them to you, very soon–very soon.”
“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself about that,” said Feldar; “I will take them along with me.” And so saying, he put the bag of diamonds in one of his coat-pockets, and began to pile the bags of money on his shoulders.
The dividing-agent yelled and howled with dismay, but it was of no use. Feldar loaded himself with his bags, and walked off, without even looking at Flipkrak, who was almost crazy at seeing so much of his master’s treasure boldly taken away from him.
Feldar stopped for a moment in the great hall, where the thin giant was still sitting before the fire.
“I’ve taken my share of the money,” he said, “and I’ve marked a lot of furniture and things which I want you to send me, inside of a week. Do you understand?”
The thin giant gave one look at the piles of bags on Feldar’s shoulders, and fainted away. He had more money left than he could possibly use, but he could not bear to lose the least bit of the wealth he had seized upon.
“What in the world are you going to do with all that money?” the fairy asked.
“I am going to give one bag of it to Count Cormo, so that he can offer the children a decent Christmas-tree, and the rest I shall carry to my castle on Shattered Crag.”
“I don’t believe the Count will take it,” said the fairy. “He’s awfully proud, and he would say that you were giving the Christmas feasts and not he. I wish you would let me manage this affair for you.”
“Well, I will,” said the giant.
“All right,” cried the fairy, clapping her hands. “I’ll do the thinking and you can do the working. It’s easy for me to think.”
“And it’s just as easy for me to work,” said Feldar, with hearty good-will.
The day before Christmas, poor Count Cormo sat, quite disconsolate, in his castle-hall, before a hearth where there was no fire. He had sold his family bedstead, but he had received very little money for it. People said such old bedsteads were not worth much, even if they were inlaid with precious metals. So he had been able only to prepare a small tree, on which he had hung the cheapest kind of presents, and his feast was very plain and simple. The Countess, indeed, was afraid the things would not go around, for their old servant had told them that he had heard there would be more children at the castle the next day than had ever been there before. She was in favor of giving up the whole affair and of sending the children home as soon as they should come.
“What is the use,” she said, “of having them here, when we have so little to give them? They will get more at home; and then if they don’t come we shall have the things for ourselves.”
“No, no, my dear,” said the Count; “this may be the last time that we shall have the children with us, for I do not see how we can live much longer in this sorrowful condition, but the dear girls and boys must come to-morrow. I should not wish to die knowing that we had missed a Christmas. We must do the best with what we have, and I am sure we can make them happy if we try. And now let us go to bed, so as to be up early to-morrow.”
The Countess sighed. There was only one little bedstead, and the poor Count had to sleep on the floor.
Christmas-day dawned bright, clear, and sparkling. The Count was in good spirits.
“It is a fine day,” he said to his wife, “and that is a great thing for us.”
“We need all we can get,” said the Countess, “and it is well for us that fine days do not cost anything.”
Very soon the Count heard the sound of many merry voices, and his eyes began to sparkle.
“They are coming!” he cried, and threw open the door of the castle, and went to meet his little guests; but when he saw them he started back.