The Princess and the Goblin
no further cause of alarm.
When the princess woke the next morning, her nurse was bending over
her. 'How your ring does glow this morning, princess!--just like a
fiery rose!' she said.
'Does it, Lootie?' returned Irene. 'Who gave me the ring, Lootie? I
know I've had it a long time, but where did I get it? I don't
remember.'
'I think it must have been your mother gave it you, princess; but
really, for as long as you have worn it, I don't remember that ever I
heard,' answered her nurse.
'I will ask my king-papa the next time he comes,' said Irene.
CHAPTER 17
Springtime
The spring so dear to all creatures, young and old, came at last, and
before the first few days of it had gone, the king rode through its
budding valleys to see his little daughter. He had been in a distant
part of his dominions all the winter, for he was not in the habit of
stopping in one great city, or of visiting only his favourite country
houses, but he moved from place to place, that all his people might
know him. Wherever he journeyed, he kept a constant look-out for the
ablest and best men to put into office; and wherever he found himself
mistaken, and those he had appointed incapable or unjust, he removed
them at once. Hence you see it was his care of the people that kept
him from seeing his princess so often as he would have liked. You may
wonder why he did not take her about with him; but there were several
reasons against his doing so, and I suspect her great-great-grandmother
had had a principal hand in preventing it. Once more Irene heard the
bugle-blast, and once more she was at the gate to meet her father as he
rode up on his great white horse.
After they had been alone for a little while, she thought of what she
had resolved to ask him.
'Please, king-papa,' she said, 'Will you tell me where I got this
pretty ring? I can't remember.'
The king looked at it. A strange beautiful smile spread like sunshine
over his face, and an answering smile, but at the same time a
questioning one, spread like moonlight over Irene's. 'It was your
queen-mamma's once,' he said.
'And why isn't it hers now?' asked Irene.
'She does not want it now,' said the king, looking grave.
'Why doesn't she want it now?'
'Because she's gone where all those rings are made.'
'And when shall I see her?' asked the princess.
'Not for some time yet,' answered the king, and the tears came into his
eyes.
Irene did not remember her mother and did not know why her father
looked so, and why the tears came in his eyes; but she put her arms
round his neck and kissed him, and asked no more questions.
The king was much disturbed on hearing the report of the
gentlemen-at-arms concerning the creatures they had seen; and I presume
would have taken Irene with him that very day, but for what the
presence of the ring on her finger assured him of. About an hour
before he left, Irene saw him go up the old stair; and he did not come
down again till they were just ready to start; and she thought with
herself that he had been up to see the old lady. When he went away he
left other six gentlemen behind him, that there might be six of them
always on guard.
And now, in the lovely spring weather, Irene was out on the mountain
the greater part of the day. In the warmer hollows there were lovely
primroses, and not so many that she ever got tired of them. As often
as she saw a new one opening an eye of light in the blind earth, she
would clap her hands with gladness, and unlike some children I know,
instead of pulling it, would touch it as tenderly as if it had been a
new baby, and, having made its acquaintance, would leave it as happy as
she found it. She treated the plants on which they grew like birds'
nests; every fresh flower was like a new little bird to her. She would
pay visits to all the flower-nests she knew, remembering each by
itself. She would go down on her hands and knees beside one and say:
'Good morning! Are you all smelling very sweet this morning?
Good-bye!' and then she would go to another nest, and say the same. It
was a favourite amusement with her. There were many flowers up and
down, and she loved them all, but the primroses were her favourites.
'They're not too shy, and they're not a bit forward,' she would say to
Lootie.
There were goats too about, over the mountain, and when the little kids
came she was as pleased with them as with the flowers. The goats
belonged to the miners mostly-a few of them to Curdie's mother; but
there were a good many wild ones that seemed to belong to nobody.
These the goblins counted theirs, and it was upon them partly that they
lived. They set snares and dug pits for them; and did not scruple to
take what tame ones happened to be caught; but they did not try to
steal them in any other manner, because they were afraid of the dogs
the hill-people kept to watch them, for the knowing dogs always tried
to bite their feet. But the goblins had a kind of sheep of their
own--very queer creatures, which they drove out to feed at night, and
the other goblin creatures were wise enough to keep good watch over
them, for they knew they should have their bones by and by.
CHAPTER 18
Curdie's Clue
Curdie was as watchful as ever, but was almost getting tired of his ill
success. Every other night or so he followed the goblins about, as
they went on digging and boring, and getting as near them as he could,
watched them from behind stones and rocks; but as yet he seemed no
nearer finding out what they had in view. As at first, he always kept
hold of the end of his string, while his pickaxe, left just outside the
hole by which he entered the goblins' country from the mine, continued
to serve as an anchor and hold fast the other end. The goblins,
hearing no more noise in that quarter, had ceased to apprehend an
immediate invasion, and kept no watch.
One night, after dodging about and listening till he was nearly falling
asleep with weariness, he began to roll up his ball, for he had
resolved to go home to bed. It was not long, however, before he began
to feel bewildered. One after another he passed goblin houses, caves,
that is, occupied by goblin families, and at length was sure they were
many more than he had passed as he came. He had to use great caution
to pass unseen--they lay so close together. Could his string have led
him wrong? He still followed winding it, and still it led him into
more thickly populated quarters, until he became quite uneasy, and
indeed apprehensive; for although he was not afraid of the cobs, he was
afraid of not finding his way out. But what could he do? It was of no
use to sit down and wait for the morning--the morning made no
difference here. It was dark, and always dark; and if his string
failed him he was helpless. He might even arrive within a yard of the
mine and never know it. Seeing he could do nothing better he would at
least find where the end of his string was, and, if possible, how it
had come to play him such a trick. He knew by the size of the ball
that he was getting pretty near the last of it, when he began to feel a
tugging and pulling at it. What could it mean? Turning a sharp
corner, he thought he heard strange sounds. These grew, as he went on,
to a scuffling and growling and squeaking; and the noise increased,
until, turning a second sharp corner, he found himself in the midst of
it, and the same moment tumbled over a wallowing mass, which he knew
must be a knot of the cobs' creatures. Before he could recover his
feet, he had caught some great scratches on his face and several severe
bites on his legs and arms. But as he scrambled to get up, his hand
fell upon his pickaxe, and before the horrid beasts could do him any
serious harm, he was laying about with it right and left in the dark.
The hideous cries which followed gave him the satisfaction of knowing
that he had punished some of them pretty smartly for their rudeness,
and by their scampering and their retreating howls, he perceived that
he had routed them. He stood for a little, weighing his battle-axe in
his hand as if it had been the most precious lump of metal--but indeed
no lump of gold itself could have been so precious at the time as that
common tool--then untied the end of the string from it, put the ball in
his pocket, and still stood thinking. It was clear that the cobs'
creatures had found his axe, had between them carried it off, and had
so led him he knew not where. But for all his thinking he could not
tell what he ought to do, until suddenly he became aware of a glimmer
of light in the distance. Without a moment's hesitation he set out for
it, as fast as the unknown and rugged way would permit. Yet again
turning a corner, led by the dim light, he spied something quite new in
his experience of the underground regions--a small irregular shape of
something shining. Going up to it, he found it was a piece of mica, or
Muscovy glass, called sheep-silver in Scotland, and the light flickered
as if from a fire behind it. After trying in vain for some time to
discover an entrance to the place where it was burning, he came at
length to a small chamber in which an opening, high in the wall,
revealed a glow beyond. To this opening he managed to scramble up, and
then he saw a strange sight.
Below sat a little group of goblins around a fire, the smoke of which
vanished in the darkness far aloft. The sides of the cave were full of
shining minerals like those of the palace hall; and the company was
evidently of a superior order, for every one wore stones about head, or
arms, or waist, shining dull gorgeous colours in the light of the fire.
Nor had Curdie looked long before he recognized the king himself, and
found that he had made his way into the inner apartment of the royal
family. He had never had such a good chance of hearing something. He
crept through the hole as softly as he could, scrambled a good way down
the wall towards them without attracting attention, and then sat down
and listened. The king, evidently the queen, and probably the crown
prince and the Prime Minister were talking together. He was sure of
the queen by her shoes, for as she warmed her feet at the fire, he saw
them quite plainly.
'That will be fun!' said the one he took for the crown prince. It was
the first whole sentence he heard.
'I don't see why you should think it such a grand affair!' said his
stepmother, tossing her head backward.
'You must remember, my spouse,' interposed His Majesty, as if making
excuse for his son, 'he has got the same blood in him. His mother--'
'Don't talk to me of his mother! You positively encourage his
unnatural fancies. Whatever belongs to that mother ought to be cut out
of him.'
'You forget yourself, my dear!' said the king.
'I don't,' said the queen, 'nor you either. If you expect me to
approve of such coarse tastes, you will find yourself mistaken. I
don't wear shoes for nothing.'
'You must acknowledge, however,' the king said, with a little groan,
'that this at least is no whim of Harelip's, but a matter of State
policy. You are well aware that his gratification comes purely from
the pleasure of sacrificing himself to the public good.
Does it not, Harelip?'
'Yes, father; of course it does. Only it will be nice to make her cry.
I'll have the skin taken off between her toes, and tie them up till
they grow together. Then her feet will be like other people's, and
there will be no occasion for her to wear shoes.'
'Do you mean to insinuate I've got toes, you unnatural wretch?' cried
the queen; and she moved angrily towards Harelip. The councillor,
however, who was betwixt them, leaned forward so as to prevent her
touching him, but only as if to address the prince.