Part 5

The Emperor commanded him to enter, and he related what had happened. “But I divined it all in a dream first,” he added, “so, when the low creature appeared, I knew exactly what he was going to say.”

The expedition started with all haste for the Dragon’s island and sighted it in a few days; it was evening when they approached the lake in which it lay, and they saw the single pine tree which stood on it and one star shining above in the green of the evening sky. But they had no leisure to admire all this and pushed on to find that the Dragon had gone to a palace some way from the shore where he was entertaining the Sorcerer with a feast. The only persons left on the island were the Sorcerer’s sons and the Princesses who were confined in dungeons below the Dragon’s treasure house. The force surrounded the palace in which the feast was going on and turned their heavy guns on it. The Dragon and the Sorcerer came out in great horror, and the Dragon was told that he would be blown to atoms if the captives were not released immediately and Badoko given up to justice.

“Take all I have,” said the Dragon, “but spare my collection of curiosities.”

So the Princesses were set free and, with them, Tiger and Gold-Eagle, and the Sorcerer was seized, bound, and drowned in the lake. The raven stood by the Emperor and surveyed all that was done. “My good fellows,” he said to Badoko’s sons, “there is no further need of your services. Your behaviour has been creditable. You may go.”

“Do you want your neck wrung?” asked Gold-Eagle, who had come behind him, taking him deftly between his finger and thumb. The raven took the first opportunity of retiring among the crowd.

Next day the Emperor with his daughters started for home, having invited the young men to his court, and they, after bidding the Princesses good-bye, returned to Badoko’s country to fit themselves out suitably for the visit.

So everybody departed in peace, except the Sorcerer, who was at the bottom of the lake.

In a short time Tiger and Gold-Eagle arrived at the court. They had inherited all their father’s wealth and they came in such splendour and state that people ran out of their houses for miles round to see them pass.

The Emperor was much delighted with their appearance, character and accomplishments, and, above all, with the charming way in which they played and sang, so when Tiger asked him for the hand of Azalea and Gold-Eagle for that of Anemone, he consented readily, and the two marriages took place amid great pomp. Everyone was pleased but the raven, who could not get on with the Emperor’s sons-in-law. Finally, he found it wiser to retire from court, and a fine house was built for him in which he spent the remainder of his days and died, at a good old age, of a surfeit.

GRIMAÇON

Once upon a time there lived in a very large and important kingdom a Princess called Moonflower; she was thus named on account of her golden hair, which was two yards and a half in length and shone like the moon. The weight of this marvellous adornment was so very great that she was obliged to have a dwarf, who followed her wherever she went, and who carried it as though it had been the train of her gown. The dwarf, who was French, was called Grimaçon; he was so clever that there was hardly an accomplishment suitable to his position in which he was not perfect. He could dance in a manner which caused those who beheld him to insist upon the performance being repeated again and again; he could cook the most delicate ragoûts and pasties; he could make such unrivalled grimaces that all who saw them were transfixed—in short, he was everything that a dwarf should be. He had lived in all the most celebrated capitals in Europe, and was acquainted with the manners and customs of every country, and, while at Berlin, had learnt to play the German bagpipe in the most accomplished manner.

The parents of Princess Moonflower were both dead, and the kingdom was being governed by the sister of the deceased king until the Princess should come of age and take the management of affairs, which she was to do at the age of seventeen. But, if before her seventeenth birthday she were to die, the kingdom was to go to her aunt. Now the Princess’s aunt was very ambitious and proud, and could not look upon the idea of giving it up to her niece without dismay. “What!” she exclaimed, “is this little wretch to supplant me? Am I, with all my wisdom, to be set aside with ignominy for a little fool who has no recommendation but her paltry beauty?” And she began to think of every means in her power by which she could get rid of the Princess.

So she determined that she must never be allowed to see her seventeenth birthday, and at last made up her mind to kill her, though she disliked the job, and put off doing it from day to day.

Now, there lived in that country a very wicked Prince called Blackwig, with whom the cruel old woman consulted. “Tell me, my good Blackwig,” said she, “how I am to get rid of this tiresome Moonflower? Bethink thyself, and I will give thee a box of pearls, a pair of puce-coloured silk hose, and a dancing ape. And, moreover, if thy counsel please me, thou shalt also have an excellent recipe for a pâté of spiced dolphin’s liver, which was given me by my sister, who learned cooking in Paris.”

“Madam,” replied Blackwig, who was fond of good living, “I desire nothing but to please you; but, as you are so liberal in your offers, I will be the same with my advice. Listen to me. Give me the hand of your niece in marriage, and you shall not be troubled with her long, for I know of a poison which I will put into her soup and which will cause her to expire without anyone’s knowing the reason—and all I will ask for this is two thousand ducats!”

“That is a large sum,” said the Princess’s aunt, who was very economical.

“Well, well, since you make me presents at the same time, I will take one thousand five hundred and twenty-five ducats, _but nothing less_.”

The Princess’s aunt, who was glad to be able to charge someone else with the death of her niece, consented, and went straight to Moonflower’s room, to make known to her that she must prepare for her coming marriage. She found her sitting at the window, watering her flowers. She looked more lovely than the three Graces. She wore a dress of mauve velvet embroidered with bunches of amaryllis in pearls and diamonds, and her long hair fell in showers upon the ground.

“Little darling,” began the old woman, “I have to-day had a proposal for your hand in marriage.”

“And from whom, Madam?” inquired Moonflower.

“The Prince Blackwig,” said her aunt: “he loves you to distraction, and will make an excellent husband.”

“Fie!” exclaimed the Princess, “he squints and has bandy legs, besides being the most malicious person in the world.”

“Nevertheless, I command you to obey me and to marry him!” shrieked the Princess’s aunt.

“I will not,” said Moonflower, “I would rather die.”

“And die thou shalt, little viper!” bawled the old woman, “for I will cut you in little pieces if you do not marry him this day month!” And she left the room in a rage, banging the door behind her.

[Illustration: SHE FOUND HER SITTING AT THE WINDOW WATERING HER FLOWERS]

When she had gone, the Princess began to weep bitterly and wring her hands. “Alas! my good Grimaçon,” she said to the dwarf, “what shall I do? Was there ever a being so unfortunate as I? Either I must perish or wed the odious Blackwig, and I know not which of these two horrors to choose.”

“You must fly, your Royal Highness,” answered the dwarf, who was a sensible little fellow, “before the day which the Queen Regent has named.”

“But alas!” said Moonflower, “whither shall I go?”

“It wants but two months to your seventeenth birthday,” replied he, “when you will succeed to the kingdom. If you conceal yourself till then, you can afterwards return and claim it, and your aunt will have no power over your actions when once you are on the throne.”

The next day Princess Moonflower and the faithful Grimaçon fled from the palace. They walked along the most secret and quiet roads for fear of observation, till at last they came to a huge forest, through which they travelled for some distance, and, aching with fatigue, sank down under a tree to rest. The little dwarf, who had been carrying his mistress’s long hair, threw himself at her feet on the grass, for he was very weary.

“Alas, dear Grimaçon,” she said, “how cruel is our lot! We shall certainly be devoured by wild beasts in this terrible wood.” And she began crying and weeping. Her sighs and lamentations might have touched a heart of stone. All at once she looked up, for there stood before her a little crooked woman, more hideous than a witch.

“Daughter,” she croaked in a voice like a raven’s, “will you direct me in the way to the palace?”

The Princess pointed in the direction from which she had just come.

“Go a little distance with me,” implored the hag, “and help me to carry this bundle I have got on my back.”

Poor Moonflower was very tired, but she took up the bundle and, telling Grimaçon to await her in the same spot, she walked off with her strange companion. When they had gone for about half a mile the old woman stopped her.

“A thousand thanks,” she croaked, “and now, I will give you the reward of your civility.”

So saying, she plucked a leaf from a neighbouring bush and presented it to the astonished girl.

“When you are in distress think of me and touch this leaf with the third finger of your left hand.” And, almost before the words were out of her mouth, she had disappeared.

Full of surprise, the Princess went back to where the faithful dwarf awaited her and told him her adventure. “And now,” she said, “I will touch my leaf and we shall be out of this terrible wood, where I feel sure there are nothing but monsters and savage beasts who will tear us limb from limb. It will certainly save us from our difficulties.”

“No, your Royal Highness,” he replied, “at least let us wait till the wild beasts come—we may be in very much worse straits yet. Let us reserve our resources till then.”

They journeyed on through the forest, and, at last, arrived at a little stream which ran merrily along till it came to a fallen branch lying right across it, and against which so many leaves and twigs had drifted that the course of the water was stopped. The stream was forced out of its bed, and beat itself against the bank.

“Look at that pretty stream,” remarked Moonflower, “how sadly it dribbles along beyond the fallen branch. The water cannot pass it. See, Grimaçon, with what difficulty it flows.”

And she bent down and broke the branch in two, for it was but a slight thing. All the accumulated leaves and twigs sailed away and the stream flowed on in a thousand beautiful ripples; at the same time a voice sang the following words:—

“Princess, should you need a friend, The grateful stream its aid will lend; Should you need me, call, I pray, Hear the words that you must say,— ‘River rise and river fall, Send the help for which I call.’ —But, call me not till hope is lost, Or dear the words to you may cost.”

“Well,” observed Grimaçon, who had heard these lines, “friends are not to be despised when one has fallen upon bad times, whatever shape they may assume—or even if they assume no shape at all!”

They continued walking on into the wood, when they heard behind them the sound of horns and of horses galloping, and in the twinkling of an eye they beheld the wicked Prince Blackwig, who was hunting in the forest with his men. When he caught sight of Moonflower he knew her at once by her long hair. “Ho!” he cried, “here is our runaway!” for he had already heard of her flight. He dismounted, and, seizing her, placed her upon the saddle, then, leaping up behind her, he put spurs to his horse. One of his servants, seeing Grimaçon, picked him up, saying, “He is a merry little ape, who will make us some sport. Let us take him too.”

“Where are we going to?” asked the Princess of Blackwig, as they flew along.

“To my castle,” answered the wicked Prince, “where I will throw you and your hideous dwarf into a dungeon in which you shall languish, if you will not marry me as your aunt commands.”

“I will never marry thee,” replied she, “shouldst thou tear me in bits for refusing.”

When they arrived at Blackwig’s castle the poor captives were thrown into a frightful dungeon, which had only one window, and that on a level with the ground. The place was so deep, and the floor so far down in the earth, that they could hardly see the light, which appeared to them as a little, far-away star. Blackwig was beside himself with fury with the Princess, for, had she married him, he would have gained all the rewards offered by her wicked aunt; and, as he did not intend to poison her, but only to say that he had done so, he hoped when his wife succeeded to the kingdom to share the throne with her. Until then, he intended to keep her hidden in his castle. Truly, it would be a fine thing to be a king, and to have outwitted so clever a woman.

The Princess and Grimaçon sat on the floor of their horrible prison; it was so dark that, for a time, they could hardly see; which was just as well, as the place was full of toads and terrible creatures, and the bones of those who had perished there before were strewn around. At last, their eyes began to get accustomed to the darkness, and Moonflower began to realise the horrors of their position. “It is bad enough to perish one’s self in such a place,” she said, “without having brought thee also into trouble, my dear Grimaçon.”

“Take courage, Madame,” replied the dwarf, “I feel sure that we shall surmount all obstacles, for now I perceive that the time has come for you to use the gifts you have been given. If you will take my advice you will see what the stream, which promised its help, can do for you.”

Half frightened by what she was doing, the Princess repeated these words:—

“River rise and river fall, Send the help for which I call!”

For some moments nothing happened; but presently a little trickling was heard in the wall. It became louder and louder, and at last, by the dim light, they could distinguish a rivulet running in a tiny thread out of a crack between the stones. It went on increasing in volume until the water covered the floor and rose round the Princess’s ankles. “Alas!” she cried, “the cruel stream has played me false, and we shall certainly be drowned like rats in this fearful place!”

“Wait a bit,” replied the dwarf, who was already up to his knees; “do not despair, we still have the leaf.”

Still the water continued to rise; the Princess, who was horribly frightened, took the leaf that had been given her from the bosom of her gown, and, thinking of the old woman, touched it with the third finger of her left hand. As she did so it began to spread and spread, and at last grew so large and heavy that she could no longer hold it but laid it down. It floated like a boat on the water, and, though it still looked like a leaf, it became the size of a good large tea-tray, and then stopped growing.

Moonflower, who was up to her waist in water, clung to the wonderful leaf, and at last succeeded in seating herself upon it; she then helped Grimaçon to do the same, for the little fellow had been swimming for the last ten minutes. What was their surprise when they got into this strange boat to find that the water had not wet them, and that their clothes were perfectly dry.

The flood rose and rose, and the leaf and its burden rose with it, till at last they were half way up the wall, and, in a surprisingly short time, had reached the level of the window.

The water began rushing out of it, carrying the leaf so swiftly that the Princess thought they would be dashed against the window-bars. What was her wonder on finding that, as the foremost point touched them, they melted away, and with a cry of joy she and her faithful dwarf sailed into the open air.

“Hold tightly, your Highness,” he exclaimed, “for the pace we are going at is terrific.”

The water rushed headlong over fields and pastures, carrying them for several miles, at the end of which it joined itself to the stream the Princess had met in the wood. Moonflower sailed smoothly along, past forests and meadows, past castles and huts, till she came to the city where her own palace stood. On the terrace of the garden she beheld her wicked aunt walking up and down (for the stream ran close by the palace walls). She saw her gesticulating as she went, and heard her cry out, “Miserable girl! Thank heaven she may never return—the throne may yet be mine!”

On sailed the leaf, on and on, for seven days and seven nights, till they came to a land which lay far away from the Princess’s kingdom. The people who saw her passing by in so singular a manner held up their hands in wonder at the strange sight. Never had they beheld whirled by them a beautiful girl, sitting on a green leaf, with such a quantity of golden hair. It flew out as she went like a golden fringe, and when the sun struck upon it she looked as though she were appearing in a cloud of gold. On account of the brightness they could not see Grimaçon, who sat behind her. Soon they came to a place where the water ran between high trees, and where great blue lotos-flowers were growing as high as a tall man, covering the brink to the water’s edge.

While the Princess was admiring such rare and beautiful flowers, the leaf ran against a protruding stone and was carried by an eddy into the bank. Moonflower jumped out and the dwarf followed her example.

“Let us trust we may find something fit to eat, if only roots and berries,” said he, “for we have had neither meat nor drink for many days and nights.”

Once on shore they were much astonished to find that, on reaching land, their boat shrank to its original size, and that Moonflower was able to take it up in her hand. She thrust it again into the bosom of her dress.

The dwarf Grimaçon began at once to look with great diligence for something to eat, and soon discovered some delicious fruit which grew in great masses upon the surrounding trees. When they had both enjoyed a hearty meal the Princess was overcome by fatigue, for her long journey had exhausted her.

“Lay yourself on yonder grass, Madame,” said Grimaçon; “and, while you rest, I will watch over your slumbers.” So she flung herself down under a tree where the moss was like a cushion of green satin, and was soon fast asleep.

Now it happened that there passed that way an aged wood-cutter, who, with a load of faggots, was on his way to the Palace belonging to the King of that country, and who, as he went by, was much surprised to behold, under a tree, the most beautiful maiden in the world, with hair shining like gold and lying spread on the grass like the rays of the moon. He was yet more taken aback by the sight of Grimaçon, who sat beside her, shading her from the sun with a branch which he also used to drive away the flies.

“What is the name of this country, grandfather?” cried the dwarf.

“This is the kingdom of the King of the Crystal Mountains,” replied the greybeard, “and I am now on my way to his palace.”

“And how far off may that be?” asked Grimaçon.

“A half league,” was the reply.

As soon as he had reached the palace the old man begged to be allowed to see the King, who, with the Queen, his mother, was seated at his second breakfast.

The King, who was young, handsome, accomplished, and a great monarch, desired that the wood-cutter should be brought before him. When he heard that a lovely maiden, with hair like the moon’s rays, was asleep on the banks of a stream scarce half a league distant, watched over by a dwarf, his curiosity knew no bounds; so, having rewarded the venerable man with a gold piece and a fricasseed goose from the royal breakfast table, he commanded his chariot to be brought, and was soon on his way to the banks of the stream, accompanied by the Queen, his mother, who was also dying to behold so wonderful a sight.

When the Princess awoke some time afterwards, what was her amazement on beholding a large body of people, headed by a chariot of crystal, the wheels of which were of silver and the cushions of velvet, and which was drawn by six Spanish horses, advancing towards her. In this equipage was seated a lady, magnificently dressed, and a handsome young man, who, stopping the chariot, desired the Princess and Grimaçon to approach.

“Ah!” exclaimed the dwarf, “this is none other than the King of the Crystal Mountains, Madame; let us try to propitiate so great a monarch, for we are completely in his power!”

So saying, he bowed till his back hair swept the ground.

The Princess was then questioned by the Queen as to who she was and where she had come from, but, as she did not wish to give her real name, for fear that Blackwig might by chance hear of her, Moonflower only told their Majesties that she was a stranger, obliged to fly from her country, and craved their protection. She did not know that she was in a kingdom more than a million leagues from her own, and, moreover, one of which Blackwig knew nothing. He was an ignorant fellow, and had forgotten all the history and geography he had ever learnt.

“Your Majesties,” said the dwarf, “if it may be permitted to one so humble to speak in such august company, I would like to mention that we have had no food for several days but the wild roots and berries which grow here.”