Part 2

With long strokes he swam to it, and, clinging to its jagged sides, drew himself out of the water. To climb to the top was the work of a moment. Once there, he stood staring through the gloom at the nest, which was built, as he had been told, on the summit. There lay the three little cormorants asleep, like three fluffy balls; he could just distinguish their soft bodies and their breasts heaving up and down in the deep breathing of their slumbers. Not a sound was to be heard but the lapping of the water, stirred by his swimming as it rose and fell against the stone’s foot. As his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness he saw, beside the sleeping birds, the three feathers for which he was searching. He put in his hand and took them, his heart beating high as he felt all three in his grasp and knew that the first step of his labours was accomplished. He slid down again into the salt water, having placed his new treasures carefully in his pocket. Then he seated himself in a little niche above water-mark to await the mother-bird, wishing with all his might for the promised power of seeing in the dark. Immediately every cranny in the cave became visible and he began to wonder where the mysterious passage might be which led to the witch’s dwelling.

In a short time the narrow slit of light was darkened by the form of the cormorant-mother coming back to the nest; she flew in and alighted by the side of her young ones. The Prince lost no time in wishing for the power of understanding bird-language, and, as the little birds awoke, he strained every nerve to catch any speech which might pass between the four creatures.

“Lie still, you tiresome little things,” said the mother as they all began chattering at once, “I have got some very good fish here; but _not one_ of you shall taste a bit if you make such a noise.”

“What a long time you’ve been getting it,” squeaked one of the little birds.

“That is not the way to speak,” observed the mother, “and you must learn not to make remarks when you are not spoken to. If your father heard you talking like that he would punish you severely. I am always very quick about getting your food, and greediness is a very shocking fault—remember that.”

“But I’m not greedy, I’m hungry.”

“Be silent, sir, at once!”

The three little birds were very much frightened at this and kept quiet while the fish were being broken up and divided into four parts. When this was done a great gobbling began, and no one spoke for some time.

“Now,” said the old bird, when every piece had disappeared. “I am going to speak to you very seriously.”

At this there was a dead silence, for all the little birds felt that their mother was in no humour to be trifled with this morning.

“Remember that I forbid you all distinctly to make any noise to-day or to scream or chatter loudly. I have a very good reason for doing so, and as I wish you to see for yourselves how very important it is, I will tell you about it. Are you all listening?”

“Yes! Yes!” cried the little birds.

“Your father is in great trouble,” she began, “for a most disagreeable thing has happened and our mistress is very angry. A ship is close by and there is a strange man on board who wears a black mask. We are afraid that he has come to take the Princess away. Yesterday, on our return from fishing, we found the ship here, and, what was far worse, discovered that the Heart which the Princess held in her hand had gone. Your father thinks there is every reason to believe that the man with the black mask has got it and he is much distressed, for our mistress has used words to him which have hurt his feelings deeply. Now, if any of you scream and make a noise, it may draw the attention of that wicked man in the ship to this place and he may discover the way to our mistress’s cave, which lies, as I suppose you all know, behind that piece of rock shaped like a fish’s head sticking out in yonder corner. If he got to her he might do her some mischief, or perhaps force her to give him the Princess. Besides which, he would certainly wring all your necks—and then, how would you like _that_?”

Here one of the little birds began to cry.

“How dare you make that noise!” said his mother, prodding him with her beak. “Stop crying instantly, sir, or we may all be lost!”

The squeaking soon ceased and, quiet being restored, one of the little birds, being of an argumentative turn of mind, began to ask questions. “But if that dreadful man got to our mistress,” he inquired, “how could he find his way to the Princess afterwards?”

“If he were in the cave he might see how our mistress goes to her; you know, she takes off her left shoe and knocks at the wall with it. Then she says:

“‘Left-foot shoe, left-foot shoe, Open, rock, and I’ll pass through.’

And the rock opens in a straight passage and she goes up to the top of it, right outside to where your father and the Princess sit. Now, I’ve told you enough—be quiet.”

All this time the Ugly Prince was looking for the stone like a fish’s head, and soon saw it sticking out in the remotest part of the cavern, so he began climbing towards it. It was weary work, for the cold had made his limbs stiff, and he feared to go quickly in case any sound should attract the old bird’s attention. With much trouble he reached the place, and, looking behind the fish’s head, saw an opening which seemed much too small for a human being to enter. He determined, however, to try what he could do and began to creep in, finding that he could just push himself along, and although he could see no light at the other end, he pressed forward. A horrible sickening sensation came over him when he had gone some way, and he felt as though he should be suffocated in this stifling place, from which none could deliver him, and which his crew, if they began to search for him, could never find. The air grew so close and the tunnel so narrow that he had almost given up all hope of life when his head struck against the rock and he lay half stunned. “Now,” he thought, “all is really lost, for I can get no further, and must die in this loathsome place.”

As he lay in his cramped position he saw what seemed to be a white pebble embedded in the rock somewhere on his left. He stretched out his hand with great difficulty, and found that it came in contact with nothing solid, though it hid the white spot from his view, and he realised that the object was not a pebble at all, but a speck of light in the far distance, and that he was groping with his arm down a narrow passage, starting away at right angles from the place in which he was imprisoned. A new hope sprang up in his heart, and he dragged himself round the corner. The tunnel grew a little wider, and, with every few inches that he moved forward, his courage rose, and the outer air grew nearer. The stones tore his hands, and he was bruised in every limb as he crept along, but he pressed on till the light became larger and yellower and the air less oppressive, and, at last, after many struggles, he stood upright outside the tunnel’s mouth.

An enormous hall met his eyes; bare rock formed its walls and ceiling and the ground under his feet was covered with fine sand.

From the sides of this place hung twisted shapes. He could hardly see what they were. First he thought that they must be great ropes of sea-weed, then human forms; grinning faces seemed to start from them at every side, and yet he could never really make out that they were the forms of either men or beasts, for, as each thing appeared to take some definite shape, it would speedily turn into something else, like the wild and fleeting images in a dream.

As he stood, the noise of the sea roaring underground in remote hollows of the rocks smote desolately on his ear, and, for a moment, the dreary sound made his heart sink in his body. But he thought of the Princess, and courage leaped up in his soul.

[Illustration: A THING WHICH LOOKED LIKE A HUMAN FIGURE WAS LYING BY A FIRE]

A column of stone, reaching to the roof, stood in the middle of the cave, and, at its foot, was a thing which looked like a human figure lying by a fire. He approached, thanking Heaven for the power of becoming invisible, and saw that he was in the presence of the witch. By a happy chance she had overslept herself, and had not yet gone up to the Princess.

As he looked there was a stir in her recumbent form. She rose, and, drawing off her left shoe, approached the wall.

“Left-foot shoe, left-foot shoe, Open, rock, and I’ll pass through,”

she muttered, striking it. Then the wall cracked open and she gathered her skirt more closely round her and disappeared through the opening, which closed behind her.

He paced up and down, straining his ears to catch any sound that might steal through some chink in the rock, and give him an idea of what was going on above. But no sound came.

At last the wall opened and his enemy appeared. An evil smile was on her face, and he guessed that she had been taunting her victim. His blood boiled. When the chasm closed, the hag, instead of replacing her shoe, drew off its fellow and, putting them both in a corner, flung herself down by the fire. The Prince had not expected such luck and he bounded towards them. At this she looked up quickly; he had forgotten, in his excitement, that, though invisible, his movements could be heard, and for a minute he stood waiting to see if she would notice the footprints he had made in the sand. But after sitting erect to listen, she seemed re-assured and lay down, while he, pausing a little space ere he moved again, heard her breathing grow heavier and saw that she was falling asleep again over her fire. Then he picked up her left shoe.

He advanced to the wall and struck it, saying the words he had heard her use.

It flew open before him and the fresh air rushed against his face. With one backward glance at the sleeper he climbed the incline, and, in a moment, had wished himself visible again and was standing on the rock by the Princess.

Her eyes were fixed on his ship, but she turned on hearing a step. Her face was almost fierce, for she expected nothing better than to meet the witch. Then she saw the Ugly Prince and rose, with a cry, stretching out her hand to him. Her great sorrow seemed to be looking out of her eyes, and the beauty of her face was so far beyond anything he had imagined that he stood before her dumbfounded, more like a culprit than the man who had fought his way to her through peril and fatigue. He took her hand and pressed his lips upon it. As he did so there was a rushing in the air, and the old cormorant, who had just returned from his fishing, began raining the blows of his heavy wings upon his shoulders. He fought it off as well as he could with his left arm while he drew his sword, and, as the savage bird swung back to make a fresh swoop, the steel blade flashed and it fell dead on the rock at his feet.

The Princess covered her eyes; she almost sank upon the ground, but the Ugly Prince caught her in his arms.

“How can we escape? How are we to reach the ship?” she cried.

He drew out the Golden Heart. The same tremor ran through it as it said: “Cut off the cormorant’s wings and strike them with the witch’s shoe. They will fasten themselves upon your shoulders and you will be able to fly as well as the bird.”

The Prince obeyed, then he stood ready to leave for ever the scene of his conflict. “Come,” he said to the Princess.

We must now return to the little boy, who had never left the deck all the hours his friend had been away. As he saw him rise into the air with his living burden he clasped his hands, standing breathless until the cormorant’s wings had borne him over the strip of water. His joy knew no bounds as he saw him land safely beside him, and he looked with admiration and awe upon the lovely Princess who had suffered so much.

“Who is this?” she asked, pointing to the child.

“That is more than I can tell you,” said the Prince, smiling, “for I picked him out of the water. But he is very dear to me all the same.”

“Shall I love you too?” she said, looking down at him with her sweet, mysterious eyes. “I have had no one to love for so very long.”

The Golden Heart was their guide, for it knew everything—even the way over the trackless seas—and soon the terrible rock was no more than a fast disappearing speck, far astern.

After a happy voyage they reached the country where the Princess’s father still reigned, an old man bowed down by grief.

When they got to the shore and the people saw that it was their own Princess who had returned and heard the tale of her captivity and rescue, their joy knew no bounds and they conducted the Ugly Prince and his crew with great rejoicings to the royal palace, which lay at some distance off. Messengers were sent forward to the poor old King, who, in spite of age and infirmity, mounted his horse for the first time for many years and came out to meet them.

He could hardly believe the news, and, when the meeting was over and he had held his daughter in his arms and knew that it was no dream, but the real, happy truth, he turned to the Prince. “I cannot speak to you now,” he said, “but to-morrow you must tell me the story with your own lips, and, were you to ask me for my kingdom, it should be yours.”

The next morning the Ugly Prince was summoned to the old man’s presence. He told the story of the Princess’s rescue, making very light of his own brave deeds, but the King was not easily deceived; and, as he sent also for the little boy, he soon got at the whole truth.

“And now,” he said, at the end of the tale, “is there anything in the wide world that I can do for you? My kingdom and all I have is yours if you will only take it. Have you no wish—no matter what it may be—that I can gratify?”

“I have loved your daughter since the first moment that I saw her,” said the Ugly Prince.

* * * * *

One evening the Ugly Prince and the Princess were walking on the terrace of the palace garden. The sunset glowed along the western sky, the birds were twittering in the deepening silence, and the heavy scent of masses of roses which climbed over balconies and pillars steeped the air. A minstrel was singing softly inside one of the open windows, and his song reached them as they stood looking out over the balustrade on to the country lying spread before them.

“Do you remember,” said the Prince, “that, when you threw me the Golden Heart, you told me I should have to suffer almost more trouble than I could bear?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Well,” continued he, “I nearly gave myself up for lost in the tunnel of rock; but, after all, I came safely through it. And it was a small price to pay for this,” he added, taking her hand.

“How brave you are!” said she.

He laughed. “But now,” he said, “I cannot imagine anything happier than the present. I have no wish unfulfilled but one, and that is to make you my wife, which I shall do in a few days.”

The Princess looked down. “I have one wish ungratified,” she replied.

“But you have only to say it,” exclaimed he; “surely you know I would do anything for you—anything. I promise it.”

“I can hardly ask you. It would seem as though I did not trust you. It troubles me very much,” she said, with tears in her eyes.

“Do not keep anything from me,” he implored. “I cannot be content now until I know what it is. You shall not go from here until you tell me.”

“If you would, only once, before our wedding-day, let me see your face.”

The Prince groaned.

“But you promised,” urged the Princess.

For a moment he hesitated, then he turned away and took off the black mask. When he faced her again a shriek rang over the garden and she fell senseless.

He had just time to replace it before the King, alarmed by the sound, came out followed by several servants. The Princess was carried into the palace and laid upon a couch, and, when many restoratives had been administered, she opened her eyes; but, on seeing her lover, an expression of terror came into her face and she fainted again.

The Prince withdrew, asking the King to go with him. When the old man heard what had happened, he wrung his hands and begged him to refrain from seeing his daughter until the next morning; then he returned to her bedside, saying that he would come back on the following day and give him news of her.

The Ugly Prince spent most of the night in walking up and down his room; the little boy, who had come to him as soon as he knew what had happened, did all he could to comfort him, and, at last, the unhappy lover fell into a heavy sleep with his hand clasped in that of the child, who refused to leave him, and who sat watching with his friend until he, too, became drowsy and lost consciousness.

It was almost noon when they were aroused by the sound of footsteps, and, looking up, saw the King.

“My son,” he said to the Prince, “I have come with weary tidings; my daughter has recovered; but early this morning she sent to me.”

He paused for a moment, and went on in a shaking voice.

“She implores you to release her from her promise to marry you. She will give no reason for what she asks, and when I suggested that she should speak to you herself, she grew so pale that I feared she would faint again. I reasoned with her, I prayed her to consider her words again, but all to no effect. I knew not how to act. She owes her very life to you. I would compel her to fulfil her promise if I could force myself to do so, but alas! alas! I cannot when I see her in such a state!”

The Prince was standing before the weeping old man. “And do you think I would accept such a sacrifice?” he said, slowly.

The King made no reply, but covered his face. There was a long silence.

Then the Ugly Prince spoke, and his voice seemed to the little boy as though it were miles away.

“Sire,” he said, “tell the Princess that my only wish is to serve her. I release her from this moment.”

Then the King went slowly away, and, as the curtain fell behind him, the Ugly Prince was left alone with the little boy.

He remembered what the Princess had told him when he took the Heart from her, and he knew that the time had come.

* * * * *

When the King’s subjects heard that the marriage was not to be, they were sorely troubled, and gloom fell over the Palace. The King refused to be comforted, and, when the Prince announced his coming departure, he begged for a last interview before he left.

“What you have told me about the Golden Heart is very wonderful,” he said. “Could it be of no use now?”

“Nothing can be of any use,” sighed the Prince. “It cannot alter my face.”

“But it seems to work miracles,” persisted the old man, “and one cannot tell how far its powers may extend.”

So they consulted the Golden Heart.

“There is,” said the voice, “in a far country beyond a vast desert, almost impossible to cross, a marsh traversed by a stream. On the further bank of that stream, at a place where rises a tall crag like the entrance to a tomb, there grows a plant bearing a cluster of pale red berries. It only shows itself once in a thousand years, and on this day three months the time for it to appear will be due. You must reach the place on the evening before its appearance, and allow nothing to tempt you from the spot, for it grows up in one night, and lasts but a few hours. When it has grown as high as your knee, break off the spike of berries, crush them in your hands, and anoint your face with the juice. It has the power of restoring perfect beauty, as well as perfect health, and it can only benefit one person in a thousand years. Hardly any one in the world has heard of its existence. You must start at once, as the way is long, and you must go by the Great Gates, which are at the other side of the world, and which lead to the desert.”

That evening the Ugly Prince set out. He took with him the witch’s shoe, and the old cormorant’s wings hung at his saddle; he also placed the three feathers in his cap. Before he went he called the little boy.

“I am going on a long journey,” he said, “and it will be many months before I can return; you must be very good until I come back. Stay here with the Princess. If I never come back the King has promised that this palace shall be your home. And now, my dear little child, my faithful friend, good-bye, for I must go. Good-bye. You will not forget me?”

The little boy clung round his neck till the servants came to tell the Prince that his horse was saddled; then he rushed up to the highest tower of the Palace, and, leaning far out of the window, watched the gallant figure riding away, as it seemed to him, into the sunset.

* * * * *