The Donkey Cabbage

THE DONKEY CABBAGE

There was once a young Hunter who went boldly into the forest. He had

a merry and light heart, and as he went whistling along there came an

ugly old woman, who said to him, ‘Good-day, dear hunter! You are very

merry and contented, but I suffer hunger and thirst, so give me a

trifle.’ The Hunter was sorry for the poor old woman, and he felt in

his pocket and gave her all he could spare. He was going on then, but

the old woman stopped him and said, ‘Listen, dear hunter, to what I

say. Because of your kind heart I will make you a present. Go on your

way, and in a short time you will come to a tree on which sit nine

birds who have a cloak in their claws and are quarrelling over it.

Then take aim with your gun and shoot in the middle of them; they will

let the cloak fall, but one of the birds will be hit and will drop

down dead. Take the cloak with you; it is a wishing-cloak, and when

you throw it on your shoulders you have only to wish yourself at a

certain place, and in the twinkling of an eye you are there. Take the

heart out of the dead bird and swallow it whole, and early every

morning when you get up you will find a gold piece under your pillow.’

The Hunter thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself ‘These are

splendid things she has promised me, if only they come to pass!’ So he

walked on about a hundred yards, and then he heard above him in the

branches such a screaming and chirping that he looked up, and there he

saw a heap of birds tearing a cloth with their beaks and feet,

shrieking, tugging, and fighting, as if each wanted it for himself.

‘Well,’ said the Hunter, ‘this is wonderful! It is just as the old

woman said’; and he took his gun on his shoulder, pulled the trigger,

and shot into the midst of them, so that their feathers flew about.

Then the flock took flight with much screaming, but one fell dead, and

the cloak fluttered down. Then the Hunter did as the old woman had

told him: he cut open the bird, found its heart, swallowed it, and

took the cloak home with him. The next morning when he awoke he

remembered the promise, and wanted to see if it had come true. But

when he lifted up his pillow, there sparkled the gold piece, and the

next morning he found another, and so on every time he got up. He

collected a heap of gold, but at last he thought to himself, ‘What

good is all my gold to me if I stay at home? I will travel and look a

bit about me in the world.’ So he took leave of his parents, slung his

hunting knapsack and his gun round him, and journeyed into the world.

It happened that one day he went through a thick wood, and when he

came to the end of it there lay in the plain before him a large

castle. At one of the windows in it stood an old woman with a most

beautiful maiden by her side, looking out. But the old woman was a

witch, and she said to the girl, ‘There comes one out of the wood who

has a wonderful treasure in his body which we must manage to possess

ourselves of, darling daughter; we have more right to it than he. He

has a bird’s heart in him, and so every morning there lies a gold

piece under his pillow.’

She told her how they could get hold of it, and how she was to coax it

from him, and at last threatened her angrily, saying, ‘And if you do

not obey me, you shall repent it!’

When the Hunter came nearer he saw the maiden, and said to himself, ‘I

have travelled so far now that I will rest, and turn into this

beautiful castle; money I have in plenty.’ But the real reason was

that he had caught sight of the lovely face.

He went into the house, and was kindly received and hospitably

entertained. It was not long before he was so much in love with the

witch-maiden that he thought of nothing else, and only looked in her

eyes, and whatever she wanted, that he gladly did. Then the old witch

said, ‘Now we must have the bird-heart; he will not feel when it is

gone.’ She prepared a drink, and when it was ready she poured it in a

goblet and gave it to the maiden, who had to hand it to the hunter.

‘Drink to me now, my dearest,’ she said. Then he took the goblet, and

when he had swallowed the drink the bird-heart came out of his mouth.

The maiden had to get hold of it secretly and then swallow it herself,

for the old witch wanted to have it. Thenceforward he found no more

gold under his pillow, and it lay under the maiden’s; but he was so

much in love and so much bewitched that he thought of nothing except

spending all his time with the maiden.

Then the old witch said, ‘We have the bird-heart, but we must also get

the wishing-cloak from him.’

The maiden answered, ‘We will leave him that; he has already lost his

wealth!’

The old witch grew angry, and said, ‘Such a cloak is a wonderful

thing, it is seldom to be had in the world, and have it I must and

will.’ She beat the maiden, and said that if she did not obey it would

go ill with her.

[Illustration: The Maiden Obtains the Bird-Heart]

So she did her mother’s bidding, and, standing one day by the window,

she looked away into the far distance as if she were very sad.

‘Why are you standing there looking so sad?’ asked the Hunter.

‘Alas, my love,’ she replied, ‘over there lies the granite mountain

where the costly precious stones grow. I have a great longing to go

there, so that when I think of it I am very sad. For who can fetch

them? Only the birds who fly; a man, never.’

‘If you have no other trouble,’ said the Hunter, ‘that one I can

easily remove from your heart.’

So he wrapped her round in his cloak and wished themselves to the

granite mountain, and in an instant there they were, sitting on it!

The precious stones sparkled so brightly on all sides that it was a

pleasure to see them, and they collected the most beautiful and costly

together. But now the old witch had through her witchcraft caused the

Hunter’s eyes to become heavy.

He said to the maiden, ‘We will sit down for a little while and rest;

I am so tired that I can hardly stand on my feet.’

So they sat down, and he laid his head on her lap and fell asleep. As

soon as he was sound asleep she unfastened the cloak from his

shoulders, threw it on her own, left the granite and stones, and

wished herself home again.

But when the Hunter had finished his sleep and awoke, he found that

his love had betrayed him and left him alone on the wild mountain.

‘Oh,’ said he, ‘why is faithlessness so great in the world?’ and he

sat down in sorrow and trouble, not knowing what to do.

But the mountain belonged to fierce and huge giants, who lived on it

and traded there, and he had not sat long before he saw three of them

striding towards him. So he lay down as if he had fallen into a deep

sleep.

The giants came up, and the first pushed him with his foot, and said,

‘What sort of an earthworm is that?’

The second said, ‘Crush him dead.’

But the third said contemptuously, ‘It is not worth the trouble! Let

him live; he cannot remain here, and if he goes higher up the mountain

the clouds will take him and carry him off.’

Talking thus they went away. But the Hunter had listened to their

talk, and as soon as they had gone he rose and climbed to the summit.

When he had sat there a little while a cloud swept by, and, seizing

him, carried him away. It travelled for a time in the sky, and then it

sank down and hovered over a large vegetable garden surrounded by

walls, so that he came safely to the ground amidst cabbages and

vegetables. The Hunter then looked about him, saying, ‘If only I had

something to eat! I am so hungry, and it will go badly with me in the

future, for I see here not an apple or pear or fruit of any

kind—nothing but vegetables everywhere.’ At last he thought, ‘At a

pinch I can eat a salad; it does not taste particularly nice, but it

will refresh me.’ So he looked about for a good head and ate it, but

no sooner had he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls than he felt very

strange, and found himself wonderfully changed. Four legs began to

grow on him, a thick head, and two long ears, and he saw with horror

that he had changed into a donkey. But as he was still very hungry and

this juicy salad tasted very good to his present nature, he went on

eating with a still greater appetite. At last he got hold of another

kind of cabbage, but scarcely had swallowed it when he felt another

change, and he once more regained his human form.

[Illustration: The hunter is transformed into a donkey]

The Hunter now lay down and slept off his weariness. When he awoke the

next morning he broke off a head of the bad and a head of the good

cabbage, thinking, ‘This will help me to regain my own, and to punish

faithlessness.’ Then he put the heads in his pockets, climbed the

wall, and started off to seek the castle of his love. When he had

wandered about for a couple of days he found it quite easily. He then

browned his face quickly, so that his own mother would not have known

him, and went into the castle, where he begged for a lodging.

‘I am so tired,’ he said, ‘I can go no farther.’

The witch asked, ‘Countryman, who are you, and what is your business?’

He answered, ‘I am a messenger of the King, and have been sent to seek

the finest salad that grows under the sun. I have been so lucky as to

find it, and am bringing it with me; but the heat of the sun is so

great that the tender cabbage threatens to grow soft, and I do not

know if I shall be able to bring it any farther.’

When the old witch heard of the fine salad she wanted to eat it, and

said, ‘Dear countryman, just let me taste the wonderful salad.’

‘Why not?’ he answered; ‘I have brought two heads with me, and will

give you one.’

So saying, he opened his sack and gave her the bad one. The witch

suspected no evil, and her mouth watered to taste the new dish, so

that she went into the kitchen to prepare it herself. When it was

ready she could not wait till it was served at the table, but she

immediately took a couple of leaves and put them in her mouth. No

sooner, however, had she swallowed them than she lost human form, and

ran into the courtyard in the shape of a donkey.

Now the servant came into the kitchen, and when she saw the salad

standing there ready cooked she was about to carry it up, but on the

way, according to her old habit, she tasted it and ate a couple of

leaves. Immediately the charm worked, and she became a donkey, and ran

out to join the old witch, and the dish with the salad in it fell to

the ground. In the meantime, the messenger was sitting with the lovely

maiden, and as no one came with the salad, and she wanted very much to

taste it, she said, ‘I don’t know where the salad is.’

Then thought the Hunter, ‘The cabbage must have already begun to

work.’ And he said, ‘I will go to the kitchen and fetch it myself.’

When he came there he saw the two donkeys running about in the

courtyard, but the salad was lying on the ground.

‘That’s all right,’ said he; ‘two have had their share!’ And lifting

the remaining leaves up, he laid them on the dish and brought them to

the maiden.

‘I am bringing you the delicious food my own self,’ he said, ‘so that

you need not wait any longer.’

Then she ate, and, as the others had done, she at once lost her human

form, and ran as a donkey into the yard.

When the Hunter had washed his face, so that the changed ones might

know him, he went into the yard, saying, ‘Now you shall receive a

reward for your faithlessness.’

He tied them all three with a rope, and drove them away till he came

to a mill. He knocked at the window, and the miller put his head out

and asked what he wanted.

‘I have three tiresome animals,’ he answered, ‘which I don’t want to

keep any longer. If you will take them, give them food and stabling,

and do as I tell you with them, I will pay you as much as you want.’

[Illustration: The Young Man Gives the Donkeys to the Miller]

The miller replied, ‘Why not? What shall I do with them?’

Then the Hunter said that to the old donkey, which was the witch,

three beatings and one meal; to the younger one, which was the

servant, one beating and three meals; and to the youngest one, which

was the maiden, no beating and three meals; for he could not find it

in his heart to let the maiden be beaten.

Then he went back into the castle, and he found there all that he

wanted. After a couple of days the miller came and said that he must

tell him that the old donkey which was to have three beatings and only

one meal had died. ‘The two others,’ he added, ‘are certainly not

dead, and get their three meals every day, but they are so sad that

they cannot last much longer.’

Then the Hunter took pity on them, laid aside his anger, and told the

miller to drive them back again. And when they came he gave them some

of the good cabbage to eat, so that they became human again. Then the

beautiful maiden fell on her knees before him, saying, ‘Oh, my

dearest, forgive me the ill I have done you! My mother compelled me to

do it; it was against my will, for I love you dearly. Your

wishing-cloak is hanging in a cupboard, and as for the bird-heart I

will make a drink and give it back to you.’

But he changed his mind, and said, ‘Keep it; it makes no difference,

for I will take you to be my own dear true wife.’

And the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happy together till

death.

THE LITTLE GREEN FROG[8]

In a part of the world whose name I forget lived once upon a time two

kings, called Peridor and Diamantino. They were cousins as well as

neighbours, and both were under the protection of the fairies; though

it is only fair to say that the fairies did not love them half so well

as their wives did.

Now it often happens that as princes can generally manage to get their

own way it is harder for them to be good than it is for common people.

So it was with Peridor and Diamantino; but of the two, the fairies

declared that Diamantino was much the worst; indeed, he behaved so

badly to his wife Aglantino, that the fairies would not allow him to

live any longer; and he died, leaving behind him a little daughter. As

she was an only child, of course this little girl was the heiress of

the kingdom, but, being still only a baby, her mother, the widow of

Diamantino, was proclaimed regent. The Queen-dowager was wise and

good, and tried her best to make her people happy. The only thing she

had to vex her was the absence of her daughter; for the fairies, for

reasons of their own, determined to bring up the little Princess

Serpentine among themselves.

As to the other King, he was really fond of his wife, Queen Constance,

but he often grieved her by his thoughtless ways, and in order to

punish him for his carelessness, the fairies caused her to die quite

suddenly. When she was gone the King felt how much he had loved her,

and his grief was so great (though he never neglected his duties) that

his subjects called him Peridor the Sorrowful. It seems hardly

possible that any man should live like Peridor for fifteen years

plunged in such depth of grief, and most likely he would have died too

if it had not been for the fairies.

[Footnote 8: Cabinet des Fées.]

The one comfort the poor King had was his son, Prince Saphir, who was

only three years old at the time of his mother’s death, and great care

was given to his education. By the time he was fifteen Saphir had

learnt everything that a prince should know, and he was, besides,

charming and agreeable.

[Illustration: The prince looks into the magic mirror]

It was about this time that the fairies suddenly took fright lest his

love for his father should interfere with the plans they had made for

the young prince. So, to prevent this, they placed in a pretty little

room of which Saphir was very fond a little mirror in a black frame,

such as were often brought from Venice. The Prince did not notice for

some days that there was anything new in the room, but at last he

perceived it, and went up to look at it more closely. What was his

surprise to see reflected in the mirror, not his own face, but that of

a young girl as lovely as the morning! And, better still, every

movement of the girl, just growing out of childhood, was also

reflected in the wonderful glass.

As might have been expected, the young Prince lost his heart

completely to the beautiful image, and it was impossible to get him

out of the room, so busy was he in watching the lovely unknown.

Certainly it was very delightful to be able to see her whom he loved

at any moment he chose, but his spirits sometimes sank when he

wondered what was to be the end of this adventure.

The magic mirror had been for about a year in the Prince’s possession,

when one day a new subject of disquiet seized upon him. As usual, he

was engaged in looking at the girl, when suddenly he thought he saw a

second mirror reflected in the first, exactly like his own, and with

the same power. And in this he was perfectly right. The young girl had

only possessed it for a short time, and neglected all her duties for

the sake of the mirror. Now it was not difficult for Saphir to guess

the reason of the change in her, nor why the new mirror was consulted

so often; but try as he would he could never see the face of the

person who was reflected in it, for the young girl’s figure always

came between. All he knew was that the face was that of a man, and

this was quite enough to make him madly jealous. This was the doing of

the fairies, and we must suppose that they had their reasons for

acting as they did.

When these things happened Saphir was about eighteen years old, and

fifteen years had passed away since the death of his mother. King

Peridor had grown more and more unhappy as time went on, and at last

he fell so ill that it seemed as if his days were numbered. He was so

much beloved by his subjects that this sad news was heard with despair

by the nation, and more than all by the Prince.

During his whole illness the King never spoke of anything but the

Queen, his sorrow at having grieved her, and his hope of one day

seeing her again. All the doctors and all the water-cures in the

kingdom had been tried, and nothing would do him any good. At last he

persuaded them to let him lie quietly in his room, where no one came

to trouble him.

Perhaps the worst pain he had to bear was a sort of weight on his

chest, which made it very hard for him to breathe. So he commanded his

servants to leave the windows open in order that he might get more

air. One day, when he had been left alone for a few minutes, a bird

with brilliant plumage came and fluttered round the window, and

finally rested on the sill. His feathers were sky-blue and gold, his

feet and his beak of such glittering rubies that no one could bear to

look at them, his eyes made the brightest diamonds look dull, and on

his head he wore a crown. I cannot tell you what the crown was made

of, but I am quite certain that it was still more splendid than all

the rest. As to his voice I can say nothing about that, for the bird

never sang at all. In fact, he did nothing but gaze steadily at the

King, and as he gazed, the King felt his strength come back to him. In

a little while the bird flew into the room, still with his eyes fixed

on the King, and at every glance the strength of the sick man became

greater, till he was once more as well as he used to be before the

Queen died. Filled with joy at his cure, he tried to seize the bird to

whom he owed it all, but, swifter than a swallow, it managed to avoid

him. In vain he described the bird to his attendants, who rushed at

his first call; in vain they sought the wonderful creature both on

horse and foot, and summoned the fowlers to their aid: the bird could

nowhere be found. The love the people bore King Peridor was so strong,

and the reward he promised was so large, that in the twinkling of an

eye every man, woman, and child had fled into the fields, and the

towns were quite empty.

All this bustle, however, ended in nothing but confusion, and, what

was worse, the King soon fell back into the same condition as he was

in before. Prince Saphir, who loved his father very dearly, was so

unhappy at this that he persuaded himself that he might succeed where

the others had failed, and at once prepared himself for a more distant

search. In spite of the opposition he met with, he rode away, followed

by his household, trusting to chance to help him. He had formed no

plan, and there was no reason that he should choose one path more than

another. His only idea was to make straight for those spots which were

the favourite haunts of birds. But in vain he examined all the hedges

and all the thickets; in vain he questioned everyone he met along the

road. The more he sought the less he found.

At last he came to one of the largest forests in all the world,

composed entirely of cedars. But in spite of the deep shadows cast by

the wide-spreading branches of the trees, the grass underneath was

soft and green, and covered with the rarest flowers. It seemed to

Saphir that this was exactly the place where the birds would choose to

live, and he determined not to quit the wood until he had examined it

from end to end. And he did more. He ordered some nets to be prepared

and painted of the same colours as the bird’s plumage, thinking that

we are all easily caught by what is like ourselves. In this he had to

help him not only the fowlers by profession, but also his attendants,

who excelled in this art. For a man is not a courtier unless he can do

everything.

After searching as usual for nearly a whole day Prince Saphir began to

feel overcome with thirst. He was too tired to go any farther, when

happily he discovered a little way off a bubbling fountain of the

clearest water. Being an experienced traveller, he drew from his

pocket a little cup (without which no one should ever take a journey),

and was just about to dip it in the water, when a lovely little green

frog, much prettier than frogs generally are, jumped into the cup. Far

from admiring its beauty, Saphir shook it impatiently off; but it was

no good, for quick as lightning the frog jumped back again. Saphir,

who was raging with thirst, was just about to shake it off anew, when

the little creature fixed upon him the most beautiful eyes in the

world, and said, ‘I am a friend of the bird you are seeking, and when

you have quenched your thirst listen to me.’

So the Prince drank his fill, and then, by the command of the Little

Green Frog, he lay down on the grass to rest himself.

‘Now,’ she began, ‘be sure you do exactly in every respect what I tell

you. First you must call together your attendants, and order them to

remain in a little hamlet close by until you want them. Then go, quite

alone, down a road that you will find on your right hand, looking

southwards. This road is planted all the way with cedars of Lebanon;

and after going down it a long way you will come at last to a

magnificent castle. And now,’ she went on, ‘attend carefully to what I

am going to say. Take this tiny grain of sand, and put it into the

ground as close as you can to the gate of the castle. It has the

virtue both of opening the gate and also of sending to sleep all the

inhabitants. Then go at once to the stable, and pay no heed to

anything except what I tell you. Choose the handsomest of all the

horses, leap quickly on its back, and come to me as fast as you can.

Farewell, Prince; I wish you good luck,’ and with these words the

Little Frog plunged into the water and disappeared.

The Prince, who felt more hopeful than he had done since he left home,

did precisely as he had been ordered. He left his attendants in the

hamlet, found the road the frog had described to him, and followed it

all alone, and at last he arrived at the gate of the castle, which was

even more splendid than he had expected, for it was built of crystal,

and all its ornaments were of massive gold. However, he had no

thoughts to spare for its beauty, and quickly buried his grain of sand

in the earth. In one instant the gates flew open, and all the dwellers

inside fell sound asleep. Saphir flew straight to the stable, and

already had his hand on the finest horse it contained, when his eye

was caught by a suit of magnificent harness hanging up close by. It

occurred to him directly that the harness belonged to the horse, and

without ever thinking of harm (for indeed he who steals a horse can

hardly be blamed for taking his saddle), he hastily placed it on the

animal’s back. Suddenly the people in the castle became broad awake,

and rushed to the stable. They flung themselves on the Prince, seized

him, and dragged him before their lord; but, luckily for the Prince,

who could only find very lame excuses for his conduct, the lord of the

castle took a fancy to his face, and let him depart without further

questions.

[Illustration: Prince Saphir steals the horse and harness]

Very sad, and very much ashamed of himself poor Saphir crept back to

the fountain, where the Frog was awaiting him with a good scolding.

‘Whom do you take me for?’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘Do you really

believe that it was just for the pleasure of talking that I gave you

the advice you have neglected so abominably?’

But the Prince was so deeply grieved, and apologised so very humbly,

that after some time the heart of the good little Frog was softened,

and she gave him another tiny little grain, but instead of being sand

it was now a grain of gold. She directed him to do just as he had done

before, with only this difference, that instead of going to the stable

which had been the ruin of his hopes, he was to enter right into the

castle itself, and to glide as fast as he could down the passages till

he came to a room filled with perfume, where he would find a beautiful

maiden asleep on a bed. He was to wake the maiden instantly and carry

her off, and to be sure not to pay any heed to whatever resistance she

might make.

The Prince obeyed the Frog’s orders one by one, and all went well for

this second time also. The gate opened, the inhabitants fell sound

asleep, and he walked down the passage till he found the girl on her

bed, exactly as he had been told he would. He woke her, and begged her

firmly, but politely, to follow him quickly. After a little persuasion

the maiden consented, but only on condition that she was allowed first

to put on her dress. This sounded so reasonable and natural that it

did not enter the Prince’s head to refuse her request.

But the maiden’s hand had hardly touched the dress when the palace

suddenly awoke from its sleep, and the Prince was seized and bound. He

was so vexed with his own folly, and so taken aback at the disaster,

that he did not attempt to explain his conduct, and things would have

gone badly with him if his friends the fairies had not softened the

hearts of his captors, so that they once more allowed him to leave

quietly. However, what troubled him most was the idea of having to

meet the Frog who had been his benefactress. How was he ever to appear

before her with this tale? Still, after a long struggle with himself,

he made up his mind that there was nothing else to be done, and that

he deserved whatever she might say to him. And she said a great deal,

for she had worked herself into a terrible passion; but the Prince

humbly implored her pardon, and ventured to point out that it would

have been very hard to refuse the young lady’s reasonable request.

‘You must learn to do as you are told,’ was all the Frog would reply.

But poor Saphir was so unhappy, and begged so hard for forgiveness,

that at last the Frog’s anger gave way, and she held up to him a tiny

diamond stone. ‘Go back,’ she said, ‘to the castle, and bury this

little diamond close to the door. But be careful not to return to the

stable or to the bedroom; they have proved too fatal to you. Walk

straight to the garden and enter through a portico, into a small green

wood, in the midst of which is a tree with a trunk of gold and leaves

of emeralds. Perched on this tree you will see the beautiful bird you

have been seeking so long. You must cut the branch on which it is

sitting, and bring it back to me without delay. But I warn you

solemnly that if you disobey my directions, as you have done twice

before, you have nothing more to expect either of me or anyone else.’

With these words she jumped into the water, and the Prince, who had

taken her threats much to heart, took his departure, firmly resolved

not to deserve them. He found it all just as he had been told: the

portico, the wood, the magnificent tree, and the beautiful bird, which

was sleeping soundly on one of the branches. He speedily lopped off

the branch, and though he noticed a splendid golden cage hanging close

by, which would have been very useful for the bird to travel in, he

left it alone, and came back to the fountain, holding his breath and

walking on tip-toe all the way, for fear lest he should awake his

prize. But what was his surprise, when instead of finding the fountain

in the spot where he had left it, he saw in its place a little rustic

palace built in the best taste, and standing in the doorway a charming

maiden, at whose sight his mind seemed to give way.

‘What! Madam!’ he cried, hardly knowing what he said. ‘What! Is it

you?’

The maiden blushed and answered: ‘Ah, my lord, it is long since I

first beheld your face, but I did not think you had ever seen mine.’

‘Oh, madam,’ replied he, ‘you can never guess the days and the hours I

have passed lost in admiration of you.’ And after these words they

each related all the strange things that had happened, and the more

they talked the more they felt convinced of the truth of the images

they had seen in their mirrors. After some time spent in the most

tender conversation, the Prince could not restrain himself from asking

the lovely unknown by what lucky chance she was wandering in the

forest; where the fountain had gone; and if she knew anything of the

Frog to whom he owed all his happiness, and to whom he must give up

the bird, which, somehow or other, was still sound asleep.

‘Ah, my lord,’ she replied, with rather an awkward air, ‘as to the

Frog, she stands before you. Let me tell you my story; it is not a

long one. I know neither my country nor my parents, and the only thing

I can say for certain is that I am called Serpentine. The fairies, who

have taken care of me ever since I was born, wished me to be in

ignorance as to my family, but they have looked after my education,

and have bestowed on me endless kindness. I have always lived in

seclusion, and for the last two years I have wished for nothing

better. I had a mirror’—here shyness and embarrassment choked her

words—but regaining her self-control, she added, ‘You know that

fairies insist on being obeyed without questioning. It was they who

changed the little house you saw before you into the fountain for

which you are now asking, and, having turned me into a frog, they

ordered me to say to the first person who came to the fountain exactly

what I repeated to you. But, my lord, when you stood before me, it was

agony to my heart, filled as it was with thoughts of you, to appear to

your eyes under so monstrous a form. However, there was no help for

it, and, painful as it was, I had to submit. I desired your success

with all my soul, not only for your own sake, but also for my own,

because I could not get back my proper shape till you had become

master of the beautiful bird, though I am quite ignorant as to your

reason for seeking it.’

On this Saphir explained about the state of his father’s health, and

all that has been told before.

On hearing this story Serpentine grew very sad, and her lovely eyes

filled with tears.

‘Ah, my lord,’ she said, ‘you know nothing of me but what you have

seen in the mirror; and I, who cannot even name my parents, learn that

you are a king’s son.’

In vain Saphir declared that love made them equal; Serpentine would

only reply: ‘I love you too much to allow you to marry beneath your

rank. I shall be very unhappy, of course, but I shall never alter my

mind. If I do not find from the fairies that my birth is worthy of

you, then, whatever be my feelings, I will never accept your hand.’

The conversation was at this point, and bid fair to last some time

longer, when one of the fairies appeared in her ivory car, accompanied

by a beautiful woman past her early youth. At this moment the bird

suddenly awakened, and, flying on to Saphir’s shoulder (which it never

afterwards left), began fondling him as well as a bird can do. The

fairy told Serpentine that she was quite satisfied with her conduct,

and made herself very agreeable to Saphir, whom she presented to the

lady she had brought with her, explaining that the lady was no other

than his Aunt Aglantine, widow of Diamantino.

[Illustration: ‘Standing in the Doorway a Charming Maiden at Whose

Sight His Mind Seemed to Give Way’]

Then they all fell into each other’s arms, till the fairy mounted her

chariot, placed Aglantine by her side, and Saphir and Serpentine on

the front seat. She also sent a message to the Prince’s attendants

that they might travel slowly back to the Court of King Peridor, and

that the beautiful bird had really been found. This matter being

comfortably arranged, she started off her chariot. But in spite of the

swiftness with which they flew through the air, the time passed even

quicker for Saphir and Serpentine, who had so much to think about.

They were still quite confused with the pleasure of seeing each other,

when the chariot arrived at King Peridor’s palace. He had had himself

carried to a room on the roof, where his nurses thought that he would

die at any moment. Directly the chariot drew within sight of the

castle the beautiful bird took flight, and, making straight for the

dying King, at once cured him of his sickness. Then she resumed her

natural shape, and he found that the bird was no other than the Queen

Constance, whom he had long believed to be dead. Peridor was rejoiced

to embrace his wife and his son once more, and with the help of the

fairies began to make preparations for the marriage of Saphir and

Serpentine, who turned out to be the daughter of Aglantine and

Diamantino, and as much a princess as he was a prince. The people of

the kingdom were delighted, and everybody lived happy and contented to

the end of their lives.

THE SEVEN-HEADED SERPENT[9]

Once upon a time there was a king who determined to take a long

voyage. He assembled his fleet and all the seamen, and set out. They

went straight on night and day, until they came to an island which was

covered with large trees, and under every tree lay a lion. As soon as

the King had landed his men, the lions all rose up together and tried

to devour them. After a long battle they managed to overcome the wild

beasts, but the greater number of the men were killed. Those who

remained alive now went on through the forest and found on the other

side of it a beautiful garden, in which all the plants of the world

flourished together. There were also in the garden three springs: the

first flowed with silver, the second with gold, and the third with

pearls. The men unbuckled their knapsacks and filled them with those

precious things. In the middle of the garden they found a large lake,

and when they reached the edge of it the Lake began to speak, and said

to them, ‘What men are you, and what brings you here? Are you come to

visit our king?’ But they were too much frightened to answer.

Then the Lake said, ‘You do well to be afraid, for it is at your peril

that you are come hither. Our king, who has seven heads, is now

asleep, but in a few minutes he will wake up and come to me to take

his bath! Woe to anyone who meets him in the garden, for it is

impossible to escape from him. This is what you must do if you wish to

save your lives. Take off your clothes and spread them on the path

which leads from here to the castle. The King will then glide over

something soft, which he likes very much, and he will be so pleased

with that that he will not devour you. He will give you some

punishment, but then he will let you go.’

[Footnote 9: ‘Die Siebenköpfige Schlange,’ from Schmidt’s _Griechische

Mährchen_.]

The men did as the Lake advised them, and waited for a time. At noon

the earth began to quake, and opened in many places, and out of the

openings appeared lions, tigers, and other wild beasts, which

surrounded the castle, and thousands and thousands of beasts came out

of the castle following their king, the Seven-headed Serpent. The

Serpent glided over the clothes which were spread for him, came to the

Lake, and asked it who had strewed those soft things on the path? The

Lake answered that it had been done by people who had come to do him

homage. The King commanded that the men should be brought before him.

They came humbly on their knees, and in a few words told him their

story. Then he spoke to them with a mighty and terrible voice, and

said, ‘Because you have dared to come here, I lay upon you the

punishment. Every year you must bring me from among your people twelve

youths and twelve maidens, that I may devour them. If you do not do

this, I will destroy your whole nation.’

Then he desired one of his beasts to show the men the way out of the

garden, and dismissed them. They then left the island and went back to

their own country, where they related what had happened to them. Soon

the time came round when the king of the beasts would expect the

youths and maidens to be brought to him. The King therefore issued a

proclamation inviting twelve youths and twelve maidens to offer

themselves up to save their country; and immediately many young

people, far more than enough, hastened to do so. A new ship was built,

and set with black sails, and in it the youths and maidens who were

appointed for the king of the beasts embarked and set out for his

country. When they arrived there they went at once to the Lake, and

this time the lions did not stir, nor did the springs flow, and

neither did the Lake speak. So they waited then, and it was not long

before the earth quaked even more terribly than the first time. The

Seven-headed Serpent came without his train of beasts, saw his prey

waiting for him, and devoured it at one mouthful. Then the ship’s crew

returned home, and the same thing happened yearly until many years had

passed.

Now the King of this unhappy country was growing old, and so was the

Queen, and they had no children. One day the Queen was sitting at the

window weeping bitterly because she was childless, and knew that the

crown would therefore pass to strangers after the King’s death.

Suddenly a little old woman appeared before her, holding an apple in

her hand, and said, ‘Why do you weep, my Queen, and what makes you so

unhappy?’

‘Alas, good mother,’ answered the Queen, ‘I am unhappy because I have

no children.’

‘Is that what vexes you?’ said the old woman. ‘Listen to me. I am a

nun from the Spinning Convent[10] and my mother when she died left

me this apple. Whoever eats this apple shall have a child.’

The Queen gave money to the old woman, and bought the apple from her.

Then she peeled it, ate it, and threw the rind out of the window, and

it so happened that a mare that was running loose in the court below

ate up the rind. After a time the Queen had a little boy, and the mare

also had a male foal. The boy and the foal grew up together and loved

each other like brothers. In course of time the King died, and so did

the Queen, and their son, who was now nineteen years old, was left

alone. One day, when he and his horse were talking together, the Horse

said to him, ‘Listen to me, for I love you and wish for your good and

that of the country. If you go on every year sending twelve youths and

twelve maidens to the King of the Beasts, your country will very soon

be ruined. Mount upon my back: I will take you to a woman who can

direct you how to kill the Seven-headed Serpent.’

Then the youth mounted his horse, who carried him far away to a

mountain which was hollow, for in its side was a great underground

cavern. In the cavern sat an old woman spinning. This was the cloister

of the nuns, and the old woman was the Abbess. They all spent their

time in spinning, and that is why the convent has this name. All round

the walls of the cavern there were beds cut out of the solid rock,

upon which the nuns slept, and in the middle a light was burning. It

was the duty of the nuns to watch the light in turns, that it might

never go out, and if anyone of them let it go out the others put her

to death.

As soon as the King’s son saw the old Abbess spinning he threw himself

at her feet and entreated her to tell him how he could kill the