The Blue Fairy Book
managed to make some kind of little speech, which certainly did not
forbid him to hope, and said that she should not be afraid of the
shadows now she knew that they would some day come to life again.
“Alas!” she continued, “if my poor Patypata, my dear Grabugeon, and
pretty little Tintin, who all died for my sake, were equally well off, I
should have nothing left to wish for here!”
Prisoner though he was, the King of the Sheep had still some powers and
privileges.
“Go,” said he to his Master of the Horse, “go and seek the shadows of
the little black girl, the monkey, and the dog: they will amuse our
Princess.”
And an instant afterward Miranda saw them coming toward her, and their
presence gave her the greatest pleasure, though they did not come near
enough for her to touch them.
The King of the Sheep was so kind and amusing, and loved Miranda so
dearly, that at last she began to love him too. Such a handsome
sheep, who was so polite and considerate, could hardly fail to please,
especially if one knew that he was really a king, and that his strange
imprisonment would soon come to an end. So the Princess’s days passed
very gaily while she waited for the happy time to come. The King of
the Sheep, with the help of all the flock, got up balls, concerts, and
hunting parties, and even the shadows joined in all the fun, and came,
making believe to be their own real selves.
One evening, when the couriers arrived (for the King sent most carefully
for news--and they always brought the very best kinds), it was announced
that the sister of the Princess Miranda was going to be married to
a great Prince, and that nothing could be more splendid than all the
preparations for the wedding.
“Ah!” cried the young Princess, “how unlucky I am to miss the sight of
so many pretty things! Here am I imprisoned under the earth, with no
company but sheep and shadows, while my sister is to be adorned like a
queen and surrounded by all who love and admire her, and everyone but
myself can go to wish her joy!”
“Why do you complain, Princess?” said the King of the Sheep. “Did I say
that you were not to go to the wedding? Set out as soon as you please;
only promise me that you will come back, for I love you too much to be
able to live without you.”
Miranda was very grateful to him, and promised faithfully that nothing
in the world should keep her from coming back. The King caused an escort
suitable to her rank to be got ready for her, and she dressed herself
splendidly, not forgetting anything that could make her more beautiful.
Her chariot was of mother-of-pearl, drawn by six dun-colored griffins
just brought from the other side of the world, and she was attended by a
number of guards in splendid uniforms, who were all at least eight feet
high and had come from far and near to ride in the Princess’s train.
Miranda reached her father’s palace just as the wedding ceremony began,
and everyone, as soon as she came in, was struck with surprise at
her beauty and the splendor of her jewels. She heard exclamations
of admiration on all sides; and the King her father looked at her so
attentively that she was afraid he must recognize her; but he was so
sure that she was dead that the idea never occurred to him.
However, the fear of not getting away made her leave before the marriage
was over. She went out hastily, leaving behind her a little coral casket
set with emeralds. On it was written in diamond letters: “Jewels for the
Bride,” and when they opened it, which they did as soon as it was found,
there seemed to be no end to the pretty things it contained. The King,
who had hoped to join the unknown Princess and find out who she was,
was dreadfully disappointed when she disappeared so suddenly, and gave
orders that if she ever came again the doors were to be shut that she
might not get away so easily. Short as Miranda’s absence had been, it
had seemed like a hundred years to the King of the Sheep. He was waiting
for her by a fountain in the thickest part of the forest, and the ground
was strewn with splendid presents which he had prepared for her to show
his joy and gratitude at her coming back.
As soon as she was in sight he rushed to meet her, leaping and bounding
like a real sheep. He caressed her tenderly, throwing himself at her
feet and kissing her hands, and told her how uneasy he had been in
her absence, and how impatient for her return, with an eloquence which
charmed her.
After some time came the news that the King’s second daughter was going
to be married. When Miranda heard it she begged the King of the Sheep
to allow her to go and see the wedding as before. This request made him
feel very sad, as if some misfortune must surely come of it, but his
love for the Princess being stronger than anything else he did not like
to refuse her.
“You wish to leave me, Princess,” said he; “it is my unhappy fate--you
are not to blame. I consent to your going, but, believe me, I can give
you no stronger proof of my love than by so doing.”
The Princess assured him that she would only stay a very short time, as
she had done before, and begged him not to be uneasy, as she would be
quite as much grieved if anything detained her as he could possibly be.
So, with the same escort, she set out, and reached the palace as the
marriage ceremony began. Everybody was delighted to see her; she was
so pretty that they thought she must be some fairy princess, and the
Princes who were there could not take their eyes off her.
The King was more glad than anyone else that she had come again, and
gave orders that the doors should all be shut and bolted that very
minute. When the wedding was all but over the Princess got up quickly,
hoping to slip away unnoticed among the crowd, but, to her great dismay,
she found every door fastened.
She felt more at ease when the King came up to her, and with the
greatest respect begged her not to run away so soon, but at least to
honor him by staying for the splendid feast which was prepared for the
Princes and Princesses. He led her into a magnificent hall, where all
the Court was assembled, and himself taking up the golden bowl full of
water, he offered it to her that she might dip her pretty fingers into
it.
At this the Princess could no longer contain herself; throwing herself
at the King’s feet, she cried out:
“My dream has come true after all--you have offered me water to wash my
hands on my sister’s wedding day, and it has not vexed you to do it.”
The King recognized her at once--indeed, he had already thought several
times how much like his poor little Miranda she was.
“Oh! my dear daughter,” he cried, kissing her, “can you ever forget my
cruelty? I ordered you to be put to death because I thought your dream
portended the loss of my crown. And so it did,” he added, “for now your
sisters are both married and have kingdoms of their own--and mine shall
be for you.” So saying he put his crown on the Princess’s head and
cried:
“Long live Queen Miranda!”
All the Court cried: “Long live Queen Miranda!” after him, and the young
Queen’s two sisters came running up, and threw their arms round her
neck, and kissed her a thousand times, and then there was such a
laughing and crying, talking and kissing, all at once, and Miranda
thanked her father, and began to ask after everyone--particularly
the Captain of the Guard, to whom she owed so much; but, to her great
sorrow, she heard that he was dead. Presently they sat down to the
banquet, and the King asked Miranda to tell them all that had happened
to her since the terrible morning when he had sent the Captain of the
Guard to fetch her. This she did with so much spirit that all the guests
listened with breathless interest. But while she was thus enjoying
herself with the King and her sisters, the King of the Sheep was waiting
impatiently for the time of her return, and when it came and went, and
no Princess appeared, his anxiety became so great that he could bear it
no longer.
“She is not coming back any more,” he cried. “My miserable sheep’s
face displeases her, and without Miranda what is left to me, wretched
creature that I am! Oh! cruel Ragotte; my punishment is complete.”
For a long time he bewailed his sad fate like this, and then, seeing
that it was growing dark, and that still there was no sign of the
Princess, he set out as fast as he could in the direction of the town.
When he reached the palace he asked for Miranda, but by this time
everyone had heard the story of her adventures, and did not want her to
go back again to the King of the Sheep, so they refused sternly to let
him see her. In vain he begged and prayed them to let him in; though
his entreaties might have melted hearts of stone they did not move the
guards of the palace, and at last, quite broken-hearted, he fell dead at
their feet.
In the meantime the King, who had not the least idea of the sad thing
that was happening outside the gate of his palace, proposed to Miranda
that she should be driven in her chariot all round the town, which was
to be illuminated with thousands and thousands of torches, placed in
windows and balconies, and in all the grand squares. But what a sight
met her eyes at the very entrance of the palace! There lay her dear,
kind sheep, silent and motionless, upon the pavement!
She threw herself out of the chariot and ran to him, crying bitterly,
for she realized that her broken promise had cost him his life, and for
a long, long time she was so unhappy that they thought she would have
died too.
So you see that even a princess is not always happy--especially if she
forgets to keep her word; and the greatest misfortunes often happen to
people just as they think they have obtained their heart’s desires!(1)
(1) Madame d’Aulnoy.
LITTLE THUMB
There was, once upon a time, a man and his wife fagot-makers by trade,
who had several children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old,
and the youngest only seven.
They were very poor, and their seven children incommoded them greatly,
because not one of them was able to earn his bread. That which gave
them yet more uneasiness was that the youngest was of a very puny
constitution, and scarce ever spoke a word, which made them take that
for stupidity which was a sign of good sense. He was very little, and
when born no bigger than one’s thumb, which made him be called Little
Thumb.
The poor child bore the blame of whatsoever was done amiss in the house,
and, guilty or not, was always in the wrong; he was, notwithstanding,
more cunning and had a far greater share of wisdom than all his brothers
put together; and, if he spake little, he heard and thought the more.
There happened now to come a very bad year, and the famine was so great
that these poor people resolved to rid themselves of their children. One
evening, when they were all in bed and the fagot-maker was sitting with
his wife at the fire, he said to her, with his heart ready to burst with
grief:
“Thou seest plainly that we are not able to keep our children, and I
cannot see them starve to death before my face; I am resolved to lose
them in the wood to-morrow, which may very easily be done; for, while
they are busy in tying up fagots, we may run away, and leave them,
without their taking any notice.”
“Ah!” cried his wife; “and canst thou thyself have the heart to take thy
children out along with thee on purpose to lose them?”
In vain did her husband represent to her their extreme poverty: she
would not consent to it; she was indeed poor, but she was their mother.
However, having considered what a grief it would be to her to see them
perish with hunger, she at last consented, and went to bed all in tears.
Little Thumb heard every word that had been spoken; for observing, as