The Princess and the Goblin
thought her crossness was the cause of the princess's unhappiness, and
had no idea that she was really and deeply hurt at not being believed.
But, as it became more and more plain during the evening in her every
motion and look, that, although she tried to amuse herself with her
toys, her heart was too vexed and troubled to enjoy them, her nurse's
discomfort grew and grew. When bedtime came, she undressed and laid
her down, but the child, instead of holding up her little mouth to be
kissed, turned away from her and lay still. Then nursie's heart gave
way altogether, and she began to cry. At the sound of her first sob
the princess turned again, and held her face to kiss her as usual. But
the nurse had her handkerchief to her eyes, and did not see the
movement.
'Nursie,' said the princess, 'why won't you believe me?'
'Because I can't believe you,' said the nurse, getting angry again.
'Ah! then, you can't help it,' said Irene, 'and I will not be vexed
with you any more. I will give you a kiss and go to sleep.'
'You little angel!' cried the nurse, and caught her out of bed, and
walked about the room with her in her arms, kissing and hugging her.
'You will let me take you to see my dear old great big grandmother,
won't you?' said the princess, as she laid her down again.
'And you won't say I'm ugly, any more--will you, princess?' 'Nursie, I
never said you were ugly. What can you mean?'
'Well, if you didn't say it, you meant it.'
'Indeed, I never did.'
'You said I wasn't so pretty as that--'
'As my beautiful grandmother--yes, I did say that; and I say it again,
for it's quite true.'
'Then I do think you are unkind!' said the nurse, and put her
handkerchief to her eyes again.
'Nursie, dear, everybody can't be as beautiful as every other body, you
know. You are very nice-looking, but if you had been as beautiful as
my grandmother--'
'Bother your grandmother!' said the nurse.
'Nurse, that's very rude. You are not fit to be spoken to till you can
behave better.'
The princess turned away once more, and again the nurse was ashamed of
herself.
'I'm sure I beg your pardon, princess,' she said, though still in an
offended tone. But the princess let the tone pass, and heeded only the
words.
'You won't say it again, I am sure,' she answered, once more turning
towards her nurse. 'I was only going to say that if you had been twice
as nice-looking as you are, some king or other would have married you,
and then what would have become of me?'
'You are an angel!' repeated the nurse, again embracing her. 'Now,'
insisted Irene, 'you will come and see my grandmother--won't you?'
'I will go with you anywhere you like, my cherub,' she answered; and in
two minutes the weary little princess was fast asleep.
CHAPTER 5
The Princess Lets Well Alone
When she woke the next morning, the first thing she heard was the rain
still falling. Indeed, this day was so like the last that it would
have been difficult to tell where was the use of it. The first thing
she thought of, however, was not the rain, but the lady in the tower;
and the first question that occupied her thoughts was whether she
should not ask the nurse to fulfil her promise this very morning, and
go with her to find her grandmother as soon as she had had her
breakfast. But she came to the conclusion that perhaps the lady would
not be pleased if she took anyone to see her without first asking
leave; especially as it was pretty evident, seeing she lived on
pigeons' eggs, and cooked them herself, that she did not want the
household to know she was there. So the princess resolved to take the
first opportunity of running up alone and asking whether she might
bring her nurse. She believed the fact that she could not otherwise
convince her she was telling the truth would have much weight with her
grandmother.
The princess and her nurse were the best of friends all dressing-time,
and the princess in consequence ate an enormous little breakfast.
'I wonder, Lootie'--that was her pet name for her nurse--'what pigeons'
eggs taste like?' she said, as she was eating her egg--not quite a
common one, for they always picked out the pinky ones for her.
'We'll get you a pigeon's egg, and you shall judge for yourself,' said
the nurse.
'Oh, no, no!' returned Irene, suddenly reflecting they might disturb
the old lady in getting it, and that even if they did not, she would
have one less in consequence.
'What a strange creature you are,' said the nurse--'first to want a
thing and then to refuse it!'
But she did not say it crossly, and the princess never minded any
remarks that were not unfriendly.
'Well, you see, Lootie, there are reasons,' she returned, and said no
more, for she did not want to bring up the subject of their former
strife, lest her nurse should offer to go before she had had her
grandmother's permission to bring her. Of course she could refuse to
take her, but then she would believe her less than ever.
Now the nurse, as she said herself afterwards, could not be every
moment in the room; and as never before yesterday had the princess
given her the smallest reason for anxiety, it had not yet come into her
head to watch her more closely. So she soon gave her a chance, and,
the very first that offered, Irene was off and up the stairs again.
This day's adventure, however, did not turn out like yesterday's,
although it began like it; and indeed to-day is very seldom like
yesterday, if people would note the differences--even when it rains.
The princess ran through passage after passage, and could not find the
stair of the tower. My own suspicion is that she had not gone up high
enough, and was searching on the second instead of the third floor.
When she turned to go back, she failed equally in her search after the
stair. She was lost once more.
Something made it even worse to bear this time, and it was no wonder
that she cried again. Suddenly it occurred to her that it was after
having cried before that she had found her grandmother's stair. She
got up at once, wiped her eyes, and started upon a fresh quest.
This time, although she did not find what she hoped, she found what was
next best: she did not come on a stair that went up, but she came upon
one that went down. It was evidently not the stair she had come up,
yet it was a good deal better than none; so down she went, and was
singing merrily before she reached the bottom. There, to her surprise,
she found herself in the kitchen. Although she was not allowed to go
there alone, her nurse had often taken her, and she was a great
favourite with the servants. So there was a general rush at her the
moment she appeared, for every one wanted to have her; and the report
of where she was soon reached the nurse's ears. She came at once to
fetch her; but she never suspected how she had got there, and the
princess kept her own counsel.
Her failure to find the old lady not only disappointed her, but made
her very thoughtful. Sometimes she came almost to the nurse's opinion
that she had dreamed all about her; but that fancy never lasted very
long. She wondered much whether she should ever see her again, and
thought it very sad not to have been able to find her when she
particularly wanted her. She resolved to say nothing more to her nurse
on the subject, seeing it was so little in her power to prove her words.
CHAPTER 6
The Little Miner
The next day the great cloud still hung over the mountain, and the rain
poured like water from a full sponge. The princess was very fond of
being out of doors, and she nearly cried when she saw that the weather
was no better. But the mist was not of such a dark dingy grey; there
was light in it; and as the hours went on it grew brighter and
brighter, until it was almost too brilliant to look at; and late in the
afternoon the sun broke out so gloriously that Irene clapped her hands,
crying:
'See, see, Lootie! The sun has had his face washed. Look how bright
he is! Do get my hat, and let us go out for a walk. Oh, dear! oh,
dear! how happy I am!'
Lootie was very glad to please the princess. She got her hat and
cloak, and they set out together for a walk up the mountain; for the
road was so hard and steep that the water could not rest upon it, and
it was always dry enough for walking a few minutes after the rain
ceased. The clouds were rolling away in broken pieces, like great,
overwoolly sheep, whose wool the sun had bleached till it was almost
too white for the eyes to bear. Between them the sky shone with a
deeper and purer blue, because of the rain. The trees on the roadside
were hung all over with drops, which sparkled in the sun like jewels.
The only things that were no brighter for the rain were the brooks that
ran down the mountain; they had changed from the clearness of crystal
to a muddy brown; but what they lost in colour they gained in sound--or
at least in noise, for a brook when it is swollen is not so musical as
before. But Irene was in raptures with the great brown streams
tumbling down everywhere; and Lootie shared in her delight, for she too
had been confined to the house for three days.
At length she observed that the sun was getting low, and said it was
time to be going back. She made the remark again and again, but, every
time, the princess begged her to go on just a little farther and a
little farther; reminding her that it was much easier to go downhill,
and saying that when they did turn they would be at home in a moment.
So on and on they did go, now to look at a group of ferns over whose
tops a stream was pouring in a watery arch, now to pick a shining stone
from a rock by the wayside, now to watch the flight of some bird.
Suddenly the shadow of a great mountain peak came up from behind, and
shot in front of them. When the nurse saw it, she started and shook,
and catching hold of the princess's hand turned and began to run down
the hill.
'What's all the haste, nursie?' asked Irene, running alongside of her.
'We must not be out a moment longer.'
'But we can't help being out a good many moments longer.'
It was too true. The nurse almost cried. They were much too far from
home. It was against express orders to be out with the princess one
moment after the sun was down; and they were nearly a mile up the
mountain! If His Majesty, Irene's papa, were to hear of it, Lootie
would certainly be dismissed; and to leave the princess would break her
heart. It was no wonder she ran. But Irene was not in the least
frightened, not knowing anything to be frightened at. She kept on
chattering as well as she could, but it was not easy.
'Lootie! Lootie! why do you run so fast? It shakes my teeth when I
talk.'
'Then don't talk,' said Lootie.
'But the princess went on talking. She was always saying: 'Look, look,
Lootie!' but Lootie paid no more heed to anything she said, only ran on.
'Look, look, Lootie! Don't you see that funny man peeping over the
rock?'
Lootie only ran the faster. They had to pass the rock, and when they
came nearer, the princess saw it was only a lump of the rock itself
that she had taken for a man.
'Look, look, Lootie! There's such a curious creature at the foot of
that old tree. Look at it, Lootie! It's making faces at us, I do
think.'
Lootie gave a stifled cry, and ran faster still--so fast that Irene's
little legs could not keep up with her, and she fell with a crash. It
was a hard downhill road, and she had been running very fast--so it was
no wonder she began to cry. This put the nurse nearly beside herself;
but all she could do was to run on, the moment she got the princess on
her feet again.
'Who's that laughing at me?' said the princess, trying to keep in her