The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault
musketeers in quest of her; but the Lilac-fairy made her invisible to
the cleverest seekers, and thus she escaped their vigilance.
Meanwhile the Princess walked far, far and even farther away; after a
time she sought for a resting place, but although out of charity
people gave her food, she was so dishevelled and dirty that no one
wanted to keep her. At length she came to a beautiful town, at the
gate of which was a small farm. Now the farmer's wife had need of a
wench to wash the dishes and to attend to the geese and the pigs, and
seeing so dirty a vagrant offered to engage her. The Princess, who was
now much fatigued, accepted joyfully. She was put into a recess in the
kitchen where for the first days she was subjected to the coarse jokes
of the men-servants, so dirty and unpleasant did the donkey-skin make
her appear. At last they tired of their pleasantries; moreover she was
so attentive to her work that the farmer's wife took her under her
protection. She minded the sheep, and penned them up when it was
necessary, and she took the geese out to feed with such intelligence
that it seemed as if she had never done anything else. Everything that
her beautiful hands undertook was done well.
One day she was sitting near a clear fountain where she often repaired
to bemoan her sad condition, when she thought she would look at
herself in the water. The horrible donkey-skin which covered her from
head to toe revolted her. Ashamed, she washed her face and her hands,
which became whiter than ivory, and once again her lovely complexion
took its natural freshness. The joy of finding herself so beautiful
filled her with the desire to bathe in the pool, and this she did. But
she had to don her unworthy skin again before she returned to the
farm.
By good fortune the next day chanced to be a holiday, and so she had
leisure to tap for her chest with the fairy's wand, arrange her
toilet, powder her beautiful hair and put on the lovely gown which was
the colour of the weather; but the room was so small that the train
could not be properly spread out. The beautiful Princess looked at
herself, and with good reason, admired her appearance so much that she
resolved to wear her magnificent dresses in turn on holidays and
Sundays for her own amusement, and this she regularly did. She
entwined flowers and diamonds in her lovely hair with admirable art,
and often she sighed that she had no witness of her beauty save the
sheep and geese, who loved her just as much in the horrible
donkey-skin after which she had been named at the farm.
One holiday when Donkey-skin had put on her sun-hued dress, the son of
the King to whom the farm belonged alighted there to rest on his
return from the hunt. This Prince was young and handsome, beloved of
his father and of the Queen his mother, and adored by the people.
After he had partaken of the simple collation which was offered him he
set out to inspect the farm-yard and all its nooks and corners. In
going thus from place to place, he entered a dark alley at the bottom
of which was a closed door. Curiosity made him put his eye to the
keyhole. Imagine his astonishment at seeing a Princess so beautiful
and so richly dressed, and withal of so noble and dignified a mien,
that he took her to be a divinity. The impetuosity of his feelings at
this moment would have made him force the door, had it not been for
the respect with which that charming figure filled him.
It was with difficulty that he withdrew from this gloomy little alley,
intent on discovering who the inmate of the tiny room might be. He was
told that it was a scullion called Donkey-skin because of the skin
which she always wore, and that she was so dirty and unpleasant that
no one took any notice of her, or even spoke to her; she had just been
taken out of pity to look after the geese.
The Prince, though little satisfied by this information, saw that
these dense people knew no more, and that it was useless to question
them. So he returned to the palace of the King his father, beyond
words in love, having continually before his eyes the beautiful image
of the goddess whom he had seen through the keyhole. He was full of
regret that he had not knocked at the door, and promised himself
that he would not fail to do so next time. But the fervency of his
love caused him such great agitation that the same night he was seized
by a terrible fever, and was soon at death's door. The Queen, who had
no other child, was in despair because all remedies proved useless. In
vain she promised great rewards to the doctors; though they exerted
all their skill, nothing would cure the Prince. At last they decided
that some great sorrow had caused this terrible fever. They told the
Queen, who, full of tenderness for her son, went to him and begged him
to tell her his trouble. She declared that even if it was a matter of
giving him the crown, his father would yield the throne to him without
regret; or if he desired some Princess, even though there should be
war with the King her father and their subjects should, with reason,
complain, all should be sacrificed to obtain what he wished. She
implored him with tears not to die, since their life depended on his.
The Queen did not finish this touching discourse without moving the
Prince to tears.
"Madam," he said at last, in a very feeble voice, "I am not so base
that I desire the crown of my father, rather may Heaven grant him life
for many years, and that I may always be the most faithful and the
most respectful of his subjects! As to the Princesses that you speak
of, I have never yet thought of marriage, and you well know that,
subject as I am to your wishes, I shall obey you always, even though
it be painful to me."
"Ah! my son," replied the Queen, "we will spare nothing to save your
life. But, my dear child, save mine and that of the King your father
by telling me what you desire, and be assured that you shall have it."
"Well, Madam," he said, "since you would have me tell you my thought,
I obey you. It would indeed be a sin to place in danger two lives so
dear to me. Know, my mother, that I wish Donkey-skin to make me a
cake, and to have it brought to me when it is ready."
The Queen, astonished at this strange name, asked who Donkey-skin
might be.
"It is, Madam," replied one of her officers who had by chance seen
this girl, "It is the most ugly creature imaginable after the wolf, a
slut who lodges at your farm, and minds your geese."
"It matters not," said the Queen; "my son, on his way home from the
chase, has perchance eaten of her cakes; it is a whim such as those
who are sick do sometimes have. In a word, I wish that Donkey-skin,
since Donkey-skin it is, make him presently a cake."
A messenger ran to the farm and told Donkey-skin that she was to make
a cake for the Prince as well as she possibly could. Now, some believe
that Donkey-skin had been aware of the Prince in her heart at the
moment when he had put his eye to the keyhole; and then, looking from
her little window, she had seen him, so young, so handsome, and so
shapely, that the remembrance of him had remained, and that often the
thought of him had cost her some sighs. Be that as it may,
Donkey-skin, either having seen him, or having heard him spoken of
with praise, was overjoyed to think that she might become known to
him. She shut herself in her little room, threw off the ugly skin,
bathed her face and hands, arranged her hair, put on a beautiful
corsage of bright silver, and an equally beautiful petticoat, and then
set herself to make the much desired cake. She took the finest flour,
and newest eggs and freshest butter, and while she was working them,
whether by design or no, a ring which she had on her finger fell into
the cake and was mixed in it. When the cooking was done she muffled
herself in her horrible skin and gave the cake to the messenger,
asking him for news of the Prince; but the man would not deign to
reply, and without a word ran quickly back to the palace.
The Prince took the cake greedily from the man's hands, and ate it
with such voracity that the doctors who were present did not fail to
say that this haste was not a good sign. Indeed, the Prince came near
to being choked by the ring, which he nearly swallowed, in one of the
pieces of cake. But he drew it cleverly from his mouth, and his desire
for the cake was forgotten as he examined the fine emerald set in a
gold keeper-ring, a ring so small that he knew it could only be worn
on the prettiest little finger in the world.
He kissed the ring a thousand times, put it under his pillow, and drew
it out every moment that he thought himself unobserved. The torment
that he gave himself, planning how he might see her to whom the ring
belonged, not daring to believe that if he asked for Donkey-skin she
would be allowed to come, and not daring to speak of what he had seen
through the keyhole for fear that he would be laughed at for a
dreamer, brought back the fever with great violence. The doctors, not
knowing what more to do, declared to the Queen that the Prince's
malady was love, whereupon the Queen and the disconsolate King ran to
their son.
"My son, my dear son," cried the affected monarch, "tell us the name
of her whom you desire: we swear that we will give her to you. Even
though she were the vilest of slaves."
The Queen embracing him, agreed with all that the King had said, and
the Prince, moved by their tears and caresses, said to them: "My
father and my mother, I in no way desire to make a marriage which is
displeasing to you." And drawing the emerald from under his pillow he
added: "To prove the truth of this, I desire to marry her to whom this
ring belongs. It is not likely that she who owns so pretty a ring is a
rustic or a peasant."
The King and the Queen took the ring, examined it with great
curiosity, and agreed with the Prince that it could only belong to the
daughter of a good house. Then the King, having embraced his son, and
entreated him to get well, went out. He ordered the drums and fifes
and trumpets to be sounded throughout the town, and the heralds to cry
that she whose finger a certain ring would fit should marry the heir
to the throne.
First the Princesses arrived, then the duchesses, and the marquises,
and the baronesses; but though they did all they could to make their
fingers small, none could put on the ring. So the country girls had to
be tried, but pretty though they all were, they all had fingers that
were too fat. The Prince, who was feeling better, made the trial
himself. At last it was the turn of the chamber-maids; but they
succeeded no better. Then, when everyone else had tried, the Prince
asked for the kitchen-maids, the scullions, and the sheep-girls. They
were all brought to the palace, but their coarse red, short, fingers
would hardly go through the golden hoop as far as the nail.
"You have not brought that Donkey-skin, who made me the cake," said
the Prince.
Everyone laughed and said, "No," so dirty and unpleasant was she.
"Let someone fetch her at once," said the King; "it shall not be said
that I left out the lowliest." And the servants ran laughing and
mocking to find the goose-girl.
The Princess, who had heard the drums and the cries of the heralds,
had no doubt that the ring was the cause of this uproar. Now, she
loved the Prince, and, as true love is timorous and has no vanity, she
was in perpetual fear that some other lady would be found to have a
finger as small as hers. Great, then, was her joy when the messengers
came and knocked at her door. Since she knew that they were seeking
the owner of the right finger on which to set her ring, some impulse