Donkey-skin.

Donkey-skin

Once upon a time there was a King, so great, so beloved by his people,

and so respected by all his neighbours and allies that one might

almost say he was the happiest monarch alive. His good fortune was

made even greater by the choice he had made for wife of a Princess as

beautiful as she was virtuous, with whom he lived in perfect

happiness. Now, of this chaste marriage was born a daughter endowed

with so many gifts that they had no regret because other children were

not given to them.

Magnificence, good taste, and abundance reigned in the palace; there

were wise and clever ministers, virtuous and devoted courtiers,

faithful and diligent servants. The spacious stables were filled with

the most beautiful horses in the world, and coverts of rich caparison;

but what most astonished strangers who came to admire them was to see,

in the finest stall, a master donkey, with great long ears.

Now, it was not for a whim but for a good reason that the King had

given this donkey a particular and distinguished place. The special

qualities of this rare animal deserved the distinction, since nature

had made it in so extraordinary a way that its litter, instead of

being like that of other donkeys, was covered every morning with an

abundance of beautiful golden crowns, and golden louis of every kind,

which were collected daily.

Since the vicissitudes of life wait on Kings as much as on their

subjects, and good is always mingled with ill, it so befell that the

Queen was suddenly attacked by a fatal illness, and, in spite of

science, and the skill of the doctors, no remedy could be found. There

was great mourning throughout the land. The King who, notwithstanding

the famous proverb, that marriage is the tomb of love, was deeply

attached to his wife, was distressed beyond measure and made fervent

vows to all the temples in his kingdom, and offered to give his life

for that of his beloved consort; but he invoked the gods and the

Fairies in vain. The Queen, feeling her last hour approach, said to

her husband, who was dissolved in tears: "It is well that I should

speak to you of a certain matter before I die: if, perchance, you

should desire to marry again...." At these words the King broke into

piteous cries, took his wife's hands in his own, and assured her that

it was useless to speak to him of a second marriage.

"No, my dear spouse," he said at last, "speak to me rather of how I

may follow you."

"The State," continued the Queen with a finality which but increased

the laments of the King, "the State demands successors, and since I

have only given you a daughter, it will urge you to beget sons who

resemble you; but I ask you earnestly not to give way to the

persuasions of your people until you have found a Princess more

beautiful and more perfectly fashioned than I. I beg you to swear this

to me, and then I shall die content."

Perchance, the Queen, who did not lack self-esteem, exacted this oath

firmly believing that there was not her equal in the world, and so

felt assured that the King would never marry again. Be this as it may,

at length she died, and never did husband make so much lamentation;

the King wept and sobbed day and night, and the punctilious fulfilment

of the rites of widower-hood, even the smallest, was his sole

occupation.

But even great griefs do not last for ever. After a time the magnates

of the State assembled and came to the King, urging him to take

another wife. At first this request seemed hard to him and made him

shed fresh tears. He pleaded the vows he had made to the Queen, and

defied his counsellors to find a Princess more beautiful and better

fashioned than was she, thinking this to be impossible. But the

Council treated the promise as a trifle, and said that it mattered

little about beauty if the Queen were but virtuous and fruitful. For

the State needed Princes for its peace and prosperity, and though, in

truth, the Princess, his daughter, had all the qualities requisite for

making a great Queen, yet of necessity she must choose an alien for

her husband, and then the stranger would take her away with him. If,

on the other hand, he remained in her country and shared the throne

with her, their children would not be considered to be of pure native

stock, and so, there being no Prince of his name, neighbouring peoples

would stir up wars, and the kingdom would be ruined.

The King, impressed by these considerations, promised that he would

think over the matter. And so search was made among all the

marriageable Princesses for one that would suit him. Every day

charming portraits were brought him, but none gave promise of the

beauty of his late Queen; instead of coming to a decision he brooded

over his sorrow until in the end his reason left him. In his delusions

he imagined himself once more a young man; he thought the Princess his

daughter, in her youth and beauty, was his Queen as he had known her

in the days of their courtship, and living thus in the past he urged

the unhappy girl to speedily become his bride.

The young Princess, who was virtuous and chaste, threw herself at the

feet of the King her father and conjured him, with all the eloquence

she could command, not to constrain her to consent to his unnatural

desire.

The King, in his madness, could not understand the reason of her

desperate reluctance, and asked an old Druid-priest to set the

conscience of the Princess at rest. Now this Druid, less religious

than ambitious, sacrificed the cause of innocence and virtue to the

favour of so great a monarch, and instead of trying to restore the

King to his right mind, he encouraged him in his delusion.

[Illustration: "HE THOUGHT THE PRINCESS WAS HIS QUEEN"]

The young Princess, beside herself with misery, at last bethought her

of the Lilac-fairy, her godmother; determined to consult her, she set

out that same night in a pretty little carriage drawn by a great sheep

who knew all the roads. When she arrived the Fairy, who loved the

Princess, told her that she knew all she had come to say, but that she

need have no fear, for nothing would harm her if only she

faithfully fulfilled the Fairy's injunctions. "For, my dear child,"

she said to her, "it would be a great sin to submit to your father's

wishes, but you can avoid the necessity without displeasing him. Tell

him that to satisfy a whim you have, he must give you a dress the

colour of the weather. Never, in spite of all his love and his power

will he be able to give you that."

The Princess thanked her godmother from her heart, and the next

morning spoke to the King as the Fairy had counselled her, and

protested that no one would win her hand unless he gave her a dress

the colour of the weather. The King, overjoyed and hopeful, called

together the most skilful workmen, and demanded this robe of them;

otherwise they should be hanged. But he was saved from resorting to

this extreme measure, since, on the second day, they brought the much

desired robe. The heavens are not a more beautiful blue, when they are

girdled with clouds of gold, than was that lovely dress when it was

unfolded. The Princess was very sad because of it, and did not know

what to do.

Once more she went to her Fairy-godmother who, astonished that her

plan had been foiled, now told her to ask for another gown the colour

of the moon.

The King again sought out the most clever workmen and expressly

commanded them to make a dress the colour of the moon; and woe betide

them if between the giving of the order and the bringing of the dress

more than twenty-four hours should elapse.

The Princess, though pleased with the dress when it was delivered,

gave way to distress when she was with her women and her nurse. The

Lilac-fairy, who knew all, hastened to comfort her and said: "Either I

am greatly deceived or it is certain that if you ask for a dress the

colour of the sun we shall at last baffle the King your father, for it

would never be possible to make such a gown; in any case we should

gain time."

So the Princess asked for yet another gown as the Fairy bade her. The

infatuated King could refuse his daughter nothing, and he gave without

regret all the diamonds and rubies in his crown to aid this superb

work; nothing was to be spared that could make the dress as beautiful

as the sun. And, indeed, when the dress appeared, all those who

unfolded it were obliged to close their eyes, so much were they

dazzled. And, truth to tell, green spectacles and smoked glasses date

from that time.

What was the Princess to do? Never had so beautiful and so artistic a

robe been seen. She was dumb-founded, and pretending that its

brilliance had hurt her eyes she retired to her chamber, where she

found the Fairy awaiting her.

On seeing the dress like the sun, the Lilac-fairy became red with

rage. "Oh! this time, my child," she said to the Princess, "we will

put the King to terrible proof. In spite of his madness I think he

will be a little astonished by the request that I counsel you to make

of him; it is that he should give you the skin of that ass he loves

so dearly, and which supplies him so profusely with the means of

paying all his expenses. Go, and do not fail to tell him that you want

this skin." The Princess, overjoyed at finding yet another avenue of

escape; for she thought that her father could never bring himself to

sacrifice the ass, went to find him, and unfolded to him her latest

desire.

Although the King was astonished by this whim, he did not hesitate to

satisfy it; the poor ass was sacrificed and the skin brought, with due

ceremony, to the Princess, who, seeing no other way of avoiding her

ill-fortune, was desperate.

At that moment her godmother arrived. "What are you doing, my child?"

she asked, seeing the Princess tearing her hair, her beautiful cheeks

stained with tears. "This is the most happy moment of your life. Wrap

yourself in this skin, leave the palace, and walk so long as you can

find ground to carry you: when one sacrifices everything to virtue the

gods know how to mete out reward. Go, and I will take care that your

possessions follow you; in whatever place you rest, your chest with

your clothes and your jewels will follow your steps, and here is my

wand which I will give you: tap the ground with it when you have need

of the chest, and it will appear before your eyes: but haste to set

forth, and do not delay." The Princess embraced her godmother many

times, and begged her not to forsake her. Then after she had smeared

herself with soot from the chimney, she wrapped herself up in that

ugly skin and went out from the magnificent palace without being

recognised by a single person.

The absence of the Princess caused a great commotion. The King, who

had caused a sumptuous banquet to be prepared, was inconsolable. He

sent out more than a hundred gendarmes, and more than a thousand

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.

[Illustration: "CURIOSITY MADE HIM PUT HIS EYE TO THE KEYHOLE"]

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

had moved her to arrange her hair with great care, and to put on her

beautiful silver corsage, and the petticoat full of furbelows and

silver lace studded with emeralds. At the first knock she quickly

covered her finery with the donkey-skin and opened the door. The

visitors, in derision, told her that the King had sent for her in

order to marry her to his son. Then with loud peals of laughter they

led her to the Prince, who was astonished at the garb of this girl,

and dared not believe that it was she whom he had seen so majestic and

so beautiful. Sad and confounded, he said, "Is it you who lodge at the

bottom of that dark alley in the third yard of the farm?"

"Yes, your Highness," she replied.

"Show me your hand," said the Prince trembling, and heaving a deep

sigh.

Imagine how astonished everyone was! The King and the Queen, the

chamberlains and all the courtiers were dumb-founded, when from

beneath that black and dirty skin came a delicate little white and

rose-pink hand, and the ring slipped without difficulty on to the

prettiest little finger in the world. Then, by a little movement which

the Princess made, the skin fell from her shoulders and so enchanting

was her guise, that the Prince, weak though he was, fell on his knees

and held her so closely that she blushed. But that was scarcely

noticed, for the King and Queen came to embrace her heartily, and to

ask her if she would marry their son. The Princess, confused by all

these caresses and by the love of the handsome young Prince, was about

to thank them when suddenly the ceiling opened, and the Lilac-fairy

descended in a chariot made of the branches and flowers from which she

took her name, and, with great charm, told the Princess's story. The

King and Queen, overjoyed to know that Donkey-skin was a great

Princess redoubled their caresses, but the Prince was even more

sensible of her virtue, and his love increased as the Fairy unfolded

her tale. His impatience to marry her, indeed, was so great that he

could scarcely allow time for the necessary preparations for the grand

wedding which was their due. The King and Queen, now entirely devoted

to their daughter-in-law, overwhelmed her with affection. She had

declared that she could not marry the Prince without the consent of

the King her father, so, he was the first to whom an invitation to the

wedding was sent; he was not, however, told the name of the bride. The

Lilac-fairy, who, as was right, presided over all, had recommended

this course to prevent trouble. Kings came from all the countries

round, some in sedan-chairs, others in beautiful carriages; those who

came from the most distant countries rode on elephants and tigers and

eagles. But the most magnificent and most glorious of all was the

father of the Princess. He had happily recovered his reason, and had

married a Queen who was a widow and very beautiful, but by whom he

had no child. The Princess ran to him, and he recognised her at once

and embraced her with great tenderness before she had time to throw

herself on her knees. The King and Queen presented their son to him,

and the happiness of all was complete. The nuptials were celebrated

with all imaginable pomp, but the young couple were hardly aware of

the ceremony, so wrapped up were they in one another.

In spite of the protests of the noble-hearted young man, the Prince's

father caused his son to be crowned the same day, and kissing his

hand, placed him on the throne.

The celebrations of this illustrious marriage lasted nearly three

months, but the love of the two young people would have endured for

more than a hundred years, had they out-lived that age, so great was

their affection for one another.

[Illustration]

The Moral

_It scarce may be believed,

This tale of Donkey-skin;

But laughing children in the home;

Yea, mothers, and grandmothers too,

Are little moved by facts!

By _them_ 'twill be received._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

   *       *       *       *       *

Uniform with this Volume

THE YEAR'S AT THE SPRING

An Anthology of Recent Poetry.

Selected by L. D'O. WALTERS.

With Twelve Plates in Colour

and Twelve in Black and White

and many Decorations by HARRY CLARKE.

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