Chapter IV: Part 4

The next day the dress woven of moonbeams was produced, but it required twelve pages to bring it in, for it was so dazzling they could only hold it for ten minutes at a stretch, and they had to carry it in relays, six at a time. When Maria now asked for the dress woven of sunbeams, the prince grew so angry that she was quite frightened, and at the same time entertained for a moment a confident hope that now, at last, he would own himself baffled. Nevertheless, at the end of a few moments' hesitation, he pronounced his intention of complying, but added in almost a threatening tone, 'And remember that when it comes to-morrow morning you will not then have any more ridiculous tests to prefer, but will belong to me for ever, and must be prepared to go away with me in the carriage that will be at the door.' He turned on his heel as he spoke and stalked away, without saying good-bye, or so much as turning to look at her, or he would have seen she had sunk down on the ground in an agony of despair.

Her father came in and found her thus, and asked her what could possibly put her into such a state on the eve of such a brilliant marriage. Maria threw herself in his arms and told him all her distress, but when it was told it sounded childish and unreasonable.

'Can anything be more absurd?' replied the old man. 'To-morrow I may be dead, and what will become of you? What can you desire more than a husband suited to you in age and person, with every advantage the world can offer? And you would throw all this away for the sake of a foolish fancy you cannot even explain! Dry your tears and do not listen to such fancies any more, and keep your pretty little face in good order for looking as smiling and as pleasing as such a devoted husband deserves you should look on your wedding morning. It is I who have to lament; I who shall be left alone in my old age; but I do not repine, I shall be quite happy for my few remaining days in knowing that you have all the happiness life can afford you;' and as he spoke he clasped her fondly in his arms.

Maria, reassured by his words, began to think he was in the right, and she was thus as cheerful as he could wish that last night they were to spend together.

But when night came and she found the teacher who understood her so well, waiting to put her to bed for the last time, all her own true feelings came back, and, bursting into tears, she entreated her to find some way of delivering her.

'The time has come,' replied the teacher, 'that I should tell you all. The innocence and truthfulness of your heart guided you right in believing that the prince was no husband for you. You did not, and could not, know who he was; but now I must tell you he is the devil himself. Nay; do not shudder and tremble so; it remains entirely with yourself to decide whether you shall be his or not; he can have no sort of power over any against their will.'

'But, of course, I will have nothing to do with him,' replied the child, simply. 'Why don't you tell papa, and make him send him away?'

'Because, for one thing, he would not believe me. As I have said, the prince being what he is can have no power over you against your own will. Your breaking from him must be your own act. Further, you must understand the terms of the struggle. Power is given him to deceive, and thus he has deceived your father. I have been set by your mother to watch over you, and I can tell you what he is, but I have no power to undeceive your father. If I were to attempt it it would do no good, he would not believe me, and it would break his heart to see you renounce so promising an union. On the other hand, you must understand that when the devil wooes a maiden in this form he does not suddenly after appear with horns and hoofs and carry her off to brimstone and fire. For the term of your life he will behave with average kindness and affection, and he will abundantly supply you with the good things of this world. After that I need not say what the effect of his power over you will be. On the other hand, if you give him up you must be prepared to undergo many trials and privations. It is not merely going on with your present life such as it has been up till now. Those peaceful days are allowed for youthful strength to mature, but now the time has come that you have to make a life-choice. What do you say? Have you courage to renounce the ease and enjoyment the prince has to offer you and face poverty, with the want and the insults which come in its train?'

Poor little Maria looked very serious. She had never felt any great attraction for the prince, it is true, but now the question was placed upon a new issue. She had learnt enough about duty and sacrifice, and she had always intended to do right at all costs, but now that the day of trial had come it seemed so different from what she had expected, she knew not what to say.

'You are tired to-night, my child; and it is late,' said the teacher. 'We will say no more till the morning. I will wake you betimes and you shall tell me your mind then.'

In the morning Maria's mind was made up. She had chosen the good part; but how was she to be delivered from the prince?

'This is what you will have to do,' replied the teacher, after commending her good resolution. 'I have had made ready for you a wooden figure of an old woman, inside which I will stow away all that you have valuable, for it may be of use some day, but especially I will bestow there the dresses woven of the stars of heaven, of moonbeams, and that of sunbeams, which, I doubt not, the prince will bring you, according to promise, in the morning. When you have driven with him in his carriage all day, towards evening you will find yourself in a thick wood. Say to him you are tired with sitting in the carriage all day, and ask to be allowed to walk a little way in the wood before sundown. I, meantime, will place ready my wooden figure of an old woman, which you will find there, and, watching for a moment when he has his head turned, place yourself inside the figure and walk away. There is another thing which you must do, which is very important. When the ring was lost, you must know it was he who took it, and, though he kept it studiously concealed all the while he was in your father's palace, he will now carry it boldly slung on the feather in his cap; this you must find means of possessing yourself of during the journey, because it is essential to you that you should have it in your own hands. And fear nothing either, in making your escape, for the ring is your own property, which he has falsely taken; and, in leaving him, remember he can have no power over you against your will. I may not inform you what may befall you in your new character as poor Maria Wood, but be good and courageous; always, as now, choose the right bravely in all questions and doubts, and you shall not go unrewarded.'

There was little time for leave-taking between the good teacher and her affectionate pupil, for the prince almost immediately after came to claim his bride, and all the neighbours and friends came, too, to the festivities. The dress woven of sunbeams was brought by four-and-twenty pages, for it was so dazzling they could not hold it for more than five minutes at a time, and they had to carry it by relays.

At last leave-takings and festivities were over, and, amid the good-wishes and blessings of all, Maria drove away in the prince's carriage. On they drove all day, and towards the end of it, as it was getting dark, Maria contrived to twitch the ring from the prince's cap without his being aware of it; presently after she exclaimed, 'Oh dear! how cramped I feel from sitting all day in this carriage; cannot I walk a little way in this wood before it gets dark?'

'Most certainly you can, if you wish,' replied the prince, who, having everything his own way, was in a very accommodating humour.

When they had walked a little way down the forest-path, Maria espied the wooden form she was to assume, placed ready under a tree.

'That old woman will have a longish way to go to get a night's shelter, I fancy,' exclaimed the prince, with a laugh which made Maria shudder, both from its heartlessness and also because it reminded her that she would soon find herself alone, far from shelter, in that dark wood. But was it not better to be alone in the dark than in such company as that she was about to leave, she said to herself. Then she turned once more to look at it. The figure looked so natural she could not forbear saying mechanically, 'Poor old woman! give me a little coin to bestow on her that she may wish us Godspeed on our night-journey.'

'Nonsense!' replied the prince. 'Never let me hear you talk such idle stuff. And, come, it is time to go back into the carriage; it is getting quite dark.'

'Oh! what a beautiful firefly!' exclaimed Maria, reminded by the speech to hasten her separation from her uncongenial companion, 'Oh, do catch it for me!'

The prince lifted his cap, and ran a few steps after the insect. 'Oh, I see another, and I shall catch it before you catch yours--you'll see!' So saying, she darted towards the tree where the wooden figure stood ready, and placing herself inside, walked slowly and freely along, counterfeiting the gait of an aged and weary woman.

The prince had soon caught the firefly and was bringing it back in triumph, when, to his dismay, Maria was nowhere to be seen. He ran this way and that, called and shouted in vain. The servants with the carriage were too far off to have seen anything; there was no witness to appeal to but the old woman.

'Which way did the young lady run who was walking with me just now?' he eagerly inquired.

'Down that path there to the right, as fast as the firefly itself could fly, and if she comes back as quickly as she went she will be back presently,' replied Maria Wood, feigning the voice of an old woman.

The prince ran in the direction indicated, and was soon himself lost in the mazes of the forest, where he wandered hopelessly all night; and only when the morning light came was he able to make his way back to his carriage, and drive home ashamed and crestfallen, giving up his conquest in despair, and vowing useless vengeance against the fairy godmother, whose intervention he now recognised it was had baffled him.

Maria meantime walked steadily and fearlessly along, guided by the stars which peeped here and there through the tall trees. Nor was shelter so far off as the prince had said. Before very long a party of charcoal-burners hailed her, and offered a share of such poor hospitality as they could command. It was very different from the comforts of her father's house; but Maria took it as the first instalment of the hardships she had accepted.

Maria's wooden form was very skilfully made; the limbs had supple joints, which could be moved by the person inside just like those of a living being; and the clothes the teacher had provided being just like those of the country people about, no one entertained the least suspicion that Maria Wood, as she had now become, was anything different from themselves.

The charcoal-burners were kind, simple people, and, finding Maria willing to assist them in their labours to the extent of her powers, proposed to her to stay and cast in her lot with them as long as the season for their work lasted; and she did their hard work and shared their poor fare with never a word of complaint.

At last, one day, when she was on I know not what errand, at some distance from the encampment, the young king of the country, who had lately been called to the throne, came through the forest hunting, with a large retinue of followers. Crash, crash, like thunder, went the brushwood as the wild boar trampled it down, and the eager dogs bounded after him with lightning speed. They passed close to Maria, who was as much alarmed as if she had really been the old woman she seemed to be: but when she saw the riders bearing down upon her, their horses' hoofs tearing up the soil, and the branches everywhere giving way before their impetuosity, her heart failed her entirely, and she swooned away upon the grass. The king, however, was the only one whose course passed over the spot where she was, and he only perceived her in time to rein up his mount just before it might have trampled on her.

'See here to this old body, whom we have nearly frightened to death,' he cried; and the huntsmen came and lifted her up.

'Some of you carry her home to the palace, that she may be attended to,' said the king further; and they carried her home to the palace, and laid her on a bed, and restored her senses.

When the king came home from the hunt, he would go himself to see how it had fared with her; and when he found her almost restored he asked her whither she would wish to be sent.

'Little it matters to me where I go,' replied Maria Wood, in the saddened voice of grief-stricken age; 'for home and kindred have I none. Little it matters where I lay my weary bones to rest.'

When the king heard her speak thus he compassionated her, and inquired if there was any service in the household that could be offered her.

'Please your Majesty, there is not much strength in her for work,' replied the steward; 'but, if such is your royal will, she can be set to help the scullions in the kitchen.'

'Will that suit you, old dame?' inquired the king. 'They shall not ask too much of you, and a good table and warm shelter shall never be wanting.'

'All thanks to your Majesty's bounty. My heart could desire nothing more than to live thus under the shadow of your Majesty,' replied Maria, making a humble obeisance.

And thus Maria, from a princess, became a servant of servants.

'What's the use of giving us such a cranky old piece as that for a help?' said the scullion to the turnspit, as Maria was introduced to her new quarters.

'Why, as to that, as she has taken the service she must do it, cranky or not cranky,' answered the turnspit.

'Aye, I dare say we shall be able to get it out of her one way or another,' replied the scullion.

And they did get it out of her; and Maria had more put upon her, and less of kind words and scarcely better food than with the charcoal-burners. But she took it all in silence and patience, and no complaint passed her lips. She had no fixed duties, but one called her here and another there; she was at everyone's bidding, but she did her best to content them all.

Then came the Carneval; and on the last three days every servant had license to don a domino and dance at the king's ball. What an opportunity for Maria Wood! After serving in her unbecoming disguise with so much endurance and perseverance for now a full year, here was one day on which she might wear a becoming dress, and enjoy herself according to the measure of her age and sex, and due position in the world.

All the household, all royal as it was, was in a hubbub of confusion. No one was at work--no one at his post; and there was no one to notice that Maria Wood was absent, like the rest.

Locking herself into the loft which served her for a sleeping-place, Maria not only came out of her wooden disguise, but took out of it the garment woven of the stars of heaven--a most convenient dress for the occasion. At a masqued ball no one can recognise anybody else, except by a guess suggested by familiar characteristics which the domino fails to disguise. But no one at the king's court was familiar with the characteristics of Maria Wood; and wherever she passed the whole company was in an excitement to know whose was the elegant figure shrouded in such a marvellous costume. But there was so much majesty in her air, that no one durst ask her to dance or so much as approach her.

Only the king himself felt conscious of the right to offer to lead her to the dance; and she, who had not forgotten how handsome he was, and how kind he had been on the night that his huntsmen had nearly frightened her to death in the forest, right willingly accepted the favour. But even he was so awed by her grace and dignity, that, charmed as he was with her conversation, and burning to know her style and title, he yet could not frame the question that would ascertain whence she had come.

Very early in the evening, while the other masquers reckoned the amusement was only beginning, Maria, with characteristic moderation, chose an opportunity for withdrawing unperceived from the ballroom.

It will readily be imagined that the next night every one was full of curiosity, and the king most of all, to know whether the lady in the starry dress would appear again; and the more that, though everybody had been talking of her to the exclusion of everyone else the whole intervening day through, no one could offer a satisfactory conjecture as to who she could possibly be.

While all eyes were full of expectation, accordingly, the second evening, suddenly and unannounced there appeared in their midst a form, graceful and mobile like hers they had so much admired, but draped in a still more dazzling dress (for Maria this night wore her garment woven of moonbeams); and it was only the king who had the certainty that it was really the same person.

'Why did you take away all the light of our ball so early last night?' inquired the king, as they were dancing together.

'I have to be up early, and so I must go to bed early,' replied Maria.

'And what can a sylph-like creature like you have to get up early in the morning for? You are only fit to lie on a bed of roses, with nightingales to sing to you,' pursued the king.

'My occupations are very different, I can assure your Majesty,' said Maria, with a hearty laugh.

'What can those occupations possibly be?' inquired the king eagerly; 'I am dying to know.'

'Oh, fie! You must not ask a domino such a direct question as that; it is as bad as asking her name, and that is against all rules. But see, the dancers await your Majesty; we are putting them all out.'

Thus she put him off, and she fenced so well that he succeeded no better in searching out the mystery in all his subsequent attempts. Though he had determined, too, never to leave her side all the evening, that he might certainly observe which way she went, she was so alert that she defeated his plans. Kings have a certain etiquette to observe, even at a Carneval ball; and while social exigencies demanded that he should bestow a salute on one and another of the distinguished personages present, Maria contrived to gather her shining raiment round her so as to invert its dazzling folds, and glide away unperceived.

The king was beside himself with vexation when he found she was gone; nor could he sleep all the succeeding night, or rather those hours which must be stolen out of the day to make a night of when the real night has been spent in revels. One thought occupied him, which was that the succeeding night was the last in which he could expect to have the chance of obtaining an explanation from his fair partner of the dance. The next day began the gloom of Lent, and she would disappear from his sight forever. He arranged in his head a dozen forms of conversation by which to entrap her into some admission by which he could find out who she could possibly be; he determined to be more vigilant than ever in observing her movements; and, to provide against every possible chance of failure, he stationed guards at every exit of the ballroom, with strict orders to follow her when she passed.

In the midst of the ball on the third night Maria entered more radiant than ever, having on her dress woven of sunbeams. The masquers put their hands up to shade their eyes as she passed, and the chandeliers and torches were paled by its brilliance. The king was at her side immediately, but though he put in requisition all the devices he had prepared, Maria succeeded in evading them all, and the evening passed away without his being a bit wiser about how to see more of her than he had been at the beginning. The only thing that gave him a little hope that she did not mean absolutely to abandon him, was that in the course of the evening she took out a ring, which she told him had never fitted anyone yet, and begged him, as a matter of curiosity, to try it on his hand; and then when it strangely happened that it fitted him perfectly, she could not altogether conceal the pleasure it seemed to give her. Nevertheless, she put up the ring again, and would give no further explanation about it any more than about herself.

By-and-by, choosing her moment as dexterously as before, she made her escape without exciting the king's attention. The guards, however, were all expectation, and notwithstanding that she had taken the precaution of turning the sunbeams inwards, they recognised her, and followed softly after her as they had been bidden. Maria, however, did not fail to perceive they were following her, and, to divert their attention, took off a string of precious pearls she wore round her throat, and, unthreading them on the ground, escaped swiftly to her loft while the guards were occupied in gathering up the treasure.

The king was disconsolate beyond measure when he found that all his schemes were foiled, and that his radiant maiden had passed away like the rays in which she was clothed, leaving only darkness and weariness for him. So disconsolate he grew that nothing could distract him. He would no more occupy himself with the affairs of the state, still less with any minor occupations. He could not bear the light of the sun because its beams reminded him of his loss, and he dreaded similarly the sight of the moon or the stars, but, shut up in a dark room almost hopeless, he wept the weary days away.

So remarkable a change in the habits of the young king became the subject of general comment, and could not fail to reach the ears of even so insignificant a menial as Maria. She, indeed, had every reason to hear of it, for scarcely could the afflicted king be induced to take the simplest food, and the attendants of the kitchen were reduced to complete inactivity. Maria was no longer called hither and thither at everyone's pleasure, and as long as this inactivity lasted she knew the king was still of the same mind about herself. But at last the talk of the kitchen took a more alarming character; it was reported that physicians had been called in, and had pronounced that unless means were found to distract him his state of despondency would prove fatal, but that nothing which had been tried had the least effect in rousing him from his melancholy.

Meantime Lent was passing away and Easter was close at hand. Maria thought she might now be satisfied with his constancy, and determined to take the step which she had good reason to believe would restore all his vigour.

Accordingly, while the cooks and scullions were all dispersed about one thing and another, she went into the kitchen and made a cake, into which she put the ring, and took it up herself to the queen-mother. It was not very easy for such a haggard old woman to obtain admission to the private apartments, but when she declared she had come about a remedy for the king, she was made welcome. Having thus obtained the ear of the queen-mother, she assured her, with many protestations, that if the king could he made to eat the whole of the cake, without giving the least piece of it to anyone, he would be immediately cured. But that if he gave away the least piece the virtue might be lost. This was lest he should thus give away the ring to anyone. The ladies waiting on the queen laughed at the old woman's pretensions, and would have driven her away with contumely, but the queen said: 'Nay, who knows but there may be healing in it. Experience often teaches the old remedies which science has failed to discover.'

Then she dismissed Maria with a present, and took the cake in to the king, trying to amuse him with the old woman's story; but the king refused to be amused, and let the cake be. Only as he took no notice of what food he ate, and they gave him this cake for all his meals, he took it as he would have taken anything else that had been set before him. When he cut it, his knife struck against something hard, and when he had pulled this out, he found it was the very ring his sylphlike partner had given him the night she wore the dress woven of sunbeams.

At the sight he started like one waking from a trance.

'How came this ring here?' he exclaimed; and the queen-mother, who had stood by to see the effect of the remedy, replied,

'A certain old woman, whom you befriended in the forest and told the servants to shelter in the palace, brought me the cake, saying it would prove a remedy for your melancholy, which she had prepared out of gratitude.'

'Let her be called instantly hither,' then said the king; and they went to fetch Maria Wood; but Maria could nowhere be found.

The king was at this announcement very nearly relapsing into his former condition; but the idea came to his mind to find something out by means of the ring itself. Therefore he summoned together all the goldsmiths, and refiners, and alchemists of his kingdom, and bid them tell him the history of the ring.

At the end of seven days' trial the oldest of the alchemists brought it back to the king and said:

'We find, O King, that this ring is made of gold which comes from afar. Moreover, that the workmanship is such as is only produced in the kingdoms of the West, and the characters on it pronounce that its owner is a princess of high degree, whose dominions exceed greatly those of the King's Majesty in magnitude.'

The king now ordered a more urgent search to be made for Maria Wood, as the only clue by which to reach the fair owner of the ring; and Maria, having heard by report of the alchemists' announcement, thought it was time to let herself be known. Habiting herself, therefore, in becoming attire, with jewels befitting her rank, with all of which the fairy had amply provided her, she entered for the last time her wooden covering, and went up to the king in answer to his summons.

'Come hither, good woman,' said the king encouragingly; 'you have indeed done me good service in sending me this ring, and have repaid a hundredfold the little favour I bestowed on you in taking you into the palace. If, now, you will further bring me hither her to whom this ring belongs, or take me where I may find her, you shall not only live in the palace, but shall live there in royal state and luxury, and whatsoever more you may desire.'

At these words Maria stepped out of her wooden case, and stood before the king in all her youthful beauty, telling him all her story.

The proofs that supported it were sufficient to silence every doubt; and when the people were called together to celebrate her marriage with the king, the whole nation hailed her accession as their queen with the greatest delight.

Soon after, the royal pair went to visit Maria's father, who had the joy of knowing that his child was really well established in life. They stayed with him till he died; and then his dominions were added to those of the king, Maria's husband. Maria did not forget to inquire for her good mistress, but she had long ago gone back to Fairyland.

SECOND VERSION.

Another version of this, differing in many details, was given me in the following form. The former was from Loreto; this, from Rome itself.

They say, there was a king, whose wife, when she came to die, said to him,

'When I am dead, you will want to marry again; but take my advice: marry no woman but her whose foot my shoe fits.'

But this she said because the shoe was under a spell, and would fit no one whom he could marry.

The king, however, caused the shoe to be tried on all manner of women; and when the answer always was that it would fit none of them, he grew quite bewildered and strange in his mind.

After some years had passed, his young daughter, having grown up to girl's estate, came to him one day, saying,

'Oh, papa; only think! Mamma's shoe just fits me!'

'Does it!' replied the simple king; 'then I must marry you.'

'Oh, that cannot be, papa,' said the girl, and ran away.

But the simple king was so possessed with the idea that he must marry the woman whom his wife's shoe fitted, that he sent for her every day and said the same thing. But the queen had not said that he should marry the woman whom her shoe fitted, but that he should not marry any whom it did not fit.

When the princess found that he persevered in his silly caprice, she said at last,

'Papa, if I am to do what you say, you must do something for me first.'

'Agreed, my child,' replied the king; 'you have only to speak.'

'Then, before I marry,' said the girl, 'I want a lot of things, but I will begin with one at a time. First, I want a dress of the colour of a beautiful noontide sky, but all covered with stars, like the sky at midnight, and furnished with a parure to suit it.' [73]

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

'Next,' said the princess, 'I want a dress of the colour of the sea, all covered with golden fishes, with a fitting parure.'

Such a dress the king had made, and brought to her.

'Next,' said the princess, 'I want a dress of a dark blue, all covered with gold embroidery and spangled with silver bells, and with a parure to match.'

Such a dress the king had made and brought to her.

'These are all very good,' said the princess; 'but now you must send for the most cunning artificer in your whole kingdom, and let him make me a figure of an old woman [74] just like life, fitted with all sorts of springs to make it move and walk when one gets inside it, just like a real woman.'

Such a figure the king had made, and brought it to the princess.

'That is just the sort of figure I wanted,' said she; 'and now I don't want anything more.'

And the simple king went away quite happy.

As soon as she was alone, however, the princess packed all the three dresses and many of her other dresses, and all her jewellery and a large sum of money, inside the figure of the old woman, and then she got into it and walked away. No one seeing an old woman walking out of the palace thought she had anything to do with the princess, and thus she got far away without anyone thinking of stopping her.

On, on, on, she wandered till she came to the palace of a great king, and just at the time that the king's son was coming in from hunting.

'Have you a place in all this fine palace to take in a poor old body?' whined the princess inside the figure of the old woman.

'No, no! get out of the way! How dare you come in the way of the prince!' said the servants, and drove her away.

But the prince took compassion on her, and called her to him.

'What's your name, good woman?' said the prince.

'Maria Wood is my name, your Highness,' replied the princess.

'And what can you do, since you ask for a place?'

'Oh, I can do many things. First, I understand all about poultry, and then----'

'That'll do,' replied the prince; 'take her, and let her be the henwife, [75] and let her have food and lodging, and all she wants.'

So they gave her a little hut on the borders of the forest, and set her to tend the poultry.

But the prince as he went out hunting often passed by her hut, and when she saw him pass she never failed to come out and salute him, and now and then he would stop his horse and spend a few moments in gossip with her.

Before long it was Carneval time; and as the prince came by Maria Wood came out and wished him a 'good Carneval.' [76] The prince stopped his horse and said, his young head full of the pleasure he expected,

'To-morrow, you know, we have the first day of the feast.'

'To be sure I know it; and how I should like to be there: won't you take me?' answered Maria Wood.

'You shameless old woman,' replied the prince, 'to think of your wanting to go to a festino [77] at your time of life!' and he gave her a cut with his whip.

The next day Maria put on her dress of the colour of the noontide sky, covered with stars like the sky at midnight, with the parure made to wear with it, and came to the feast. Every lady made place before her dazzling appearance, and the prince alone dared to ask her to dance. With her he danced all the evening, and fairly fell in love with her, [78] nor could he leave her side; and as they sat together, he took the ring off his own finger and put it on to her hand. She appeared equally satisfied with his attentions, and seemed to desire no other partner. Only when he tried to gather from her whence she was, she would only say she came from the country of Whipblow, [79] which set the prince wondering very much, as he had never heard of such a country. At the end of the ball, the prince sent his attendants to watch her that he might learn where she lived, but she disappeared so swiftly it was impossible for them to tell what had become of her.

When the prince came by Maria Wood's hut next day, she did not fail to wish him again a 'good Carneval.'

'To-morrow we have the second festino, you know,' said the prince.

'Well I know it,' replied Maria Wood; 'shouldn't I like to go! Won't you take me?'

'You contemptible old woman to talk in that way!' exclaimed the prince. 'You ought to know better!' and he struck her with his boot.

Next night Maria put on her dress of the colour of the sea, covered all over with gold fishes, and the parure made to wear with it, and went to the feast. The prince recognised her at once, and claimed her for his partner all the evening, nor did she seem to wish for any other, only when he tried to learn from her whence she was, she would only say she came from the country of Bootkick. [80] The prince could not remember ever to have heard of the Bootkick country, and thought she meant to laugh at him; however, he ordered his attendants to make more haste this night in following her; but what diligence soever they used she was too swift for them.

The next time the prince came by Maria Wood's hut, she did not fail to wish him again a 'good Carneval.'

'To-morrow we have the last festino!' exclaimed he, with a touch of sadness, for he remembered it was the last of the happy evenings that he could feel sure of seeing his fair unknown.

'Ah! you must take me. But, what'll you say if I come to it in spite of you?' answered Maria Wood.

'You incorrigible old woman!' exclaimed the prince; 'you provoke me so with your nonsense, I really cannot keep my hand off you;' and he gave her a slap.

The next night Maria Wood put on her dress of a dark blue, all covered with gold embroidery and spangled with silver bells, and the parure made to wear with it. The prince constituted her his partner for the evening as before, nor did she seem to wish for any other, only when he wanted to learn from her whence she was, all she would say was that she came from Slapland. [81] This night the prince told his servants to make more haste in following her, or he would discharge them all. But they answered, 'It is useless to attempt the thing, as no mortal can equal her in swiftness.'

After this, the prince fell ill of his disappointment, because he saw no hope of hearing any more of the fair domino with whom he had spent three happy evenings, nor could any doctor find any remedy for his sickness.

Then Maria Wood sent him word, saying, 'Though the prince's physicians cannot help him, yet let him but take a cup of broth of my making, and he will immediately be healed.'

'Nonsense! how can a cup of broth, or how can any medicament, help me!' exclaimed the prince. 'There is no cure for my ailment.'

Again Maria Wood sent the same message; but the prince said angrily,

'Tell the silly old thing to hold her tongue; she doesn't know what she's talking about.'

But again, the third time, Maria Wood sent to him, saying, 'Let the prince but take a cup of broth of my making, and he will immediately be healed.'

By this time the prince was so weary that he did not take the trouble to refuse. The servants finding him so depressed began to fear that he was sinking, and they called to Maria Wood to make her broth, because, though they had little faith in her promise, they knew not what else to try. So Maria Wood made ready the cup of broth she had promised, and they put it down beside the prince.

Presently the whole palace was roused; the prince had started up in bed, and was shouting,

'Bring hither Maria Wood! Quick! Bring hither Maria Wood!'

So they ran and fetched Maria Wood, wondering what could have happened to bring about so great a change in the prince. But the truth was, that Maria had put into the cup of broth the ring the prince had put on her finger the first night of the feast, and when he began to take the broth he found the ring with the spoon. When he saw the ring, he knew at once that Maria Wood could tell where to find his fair partner.

'Wait a bit! there's plenty of time!' said Maria, when the servant came to fetch her in all haste; and she waited to put on her dress of the colour of the noontide sky.

The prince was beside himself for joy when he saw her, and would have the betrothal celebrated that very day.

THIRD VERSION.

In another version, on the princess refusing to do what the king wishes, he sends his servants to take her to a high tower he has out in the Campagna, and bids them carry her to the top and drop her down.

They take her there; but have not the heart to throw her down. In a corner of the upper story of the tower they see a large case or press.

'Suppose we shut her up in this great press, and leave her in the middle of the open Campagna, a long way off, to the providence of God? It will be better than killing her,' says one of them.

'We have nothing against the plan,' answered the others; 'provided we take her so far that she cannot possibly come back to our king's country.'

So they locked her up in the great box, and carried the box a long, long way out in the open Campagna, and left it there to the providence of God.

The poor princess was very glad to have escaped death; but she felt very desolate in the box. As she was wondering what would happen to her, she was suddenly frightened by a great barking of dogs round the box. A king's son had come by hunting, and his dogs had smelt human blood in the box.

'Call the dogs off, and let's see what's in the box,' said the prince.

So they opened the box; and when they saw the princess inside, they saw she was no common maiden, for she had a stomacher and earrings of brilliants. So they brought her to the prince, and she pleased him, and he married her.

[This way of introducing the box incident is more like Straparola's, and again connects this group with the former one in which I have had occasion to mention it.]

LA CANDELIERA. [82]

They say there was once a king who wanted to make his beautiful young daughter marry an old, ugly king. Every time the king talked to his daughter about this marriage, she cried and begged him to spare her; but he only went on urging her the more, till at last she feared he would command her to consent, so that she might not disobey; therefore at last she said: 'Before I marry this ugly old king to please you, you must do something to please me.'

'Oh, anything you like I will do,' replied he.

'Then you must order for me,' she replied, 'a splendid candelabrum, ten feet high, having a thick stem bigger than a man, and covered all over with all kinds of ornaments and devices in gold.'

'That shall be done,' said the king; and he sent for the chief goldsmith of the court, and told him to make such a candelabrum; and, as he was very desirous that the marriage should be celebrated without delay, he urged him to make the candelabrum with all despatch.

In a very short space of time the goldsmith brought home the candelabrum, made according to the princess's description, and the king ordered it to be taken into his daughter's apartment. The princess expressed herself quite pleased with it, and the king was satisfied that the marriage would now shortly take place.

Late in the evening, however, the princess called her chamberlain to her, and said to him: 'This great awkward candlestick is not the sort of thing I wanted; it does not please me at all. To-morrow morning you may take it and sell it, for I cannot bear the sight of it. You may keep the price it sells for, whatever it is; but you had better take it away early, before my father gets up.'

The chamberlain was very pleased to get so great a perquisite, and got up very early to carry it away. The princess, however, had got up earlier, and had placed herself inside the candlestick; so that she was carried out of the palace by the chamberlain, and thus she escaped the marriage she dreaded so much with the ugly old king.

The chamberlain, judging that the king would be very angry if he heard of his selling the splendid candelabrum he had just had made, did not venture to expose it for sale within the borders of his dominions, but carried it to the capital of the neighbouring sovereign. Here he set it up in the market-place, and cried, 'Who'll buy my candelabrum? Who'll buy my fine candelabrum?' When all the people saw what a costly candelabrum it was, no one would offer for it. At last it got bruited about till it reached the ears of the son of the king of that country, that there was a man standing in the market-place, offering to sell the most splendid candelabrum that ever was seen; so he went out to look at it himself.

No sooner had the prince seen it than he determined that he must have it; so he bought it for the price of three hundred scudi, and sent his servants to take it up into his apartment. After that, he went about his affairs as usual. In the evening, however, he said to his body-servant, 'As I am going to the play to-night, and shall be home late, take my supper up into my own room.' And the servant did as he told him.

When the prince came home from the play, he was very much surprised to find his supper eaten and all the dishes and glasses disarranged.

'What is the meaning of this?' he exclaimed, calling his servant to him in a great fury. 'Is this the way you prepare supper for me?'

'I don't know what to say, your Royal Highness,' stammered the man; 'I saw the supper properly laid myself. How it got into this condition is more than I can say. With the leave of your Highness, I will order the table to be relaid.'

But the prince was too angry to allow anything of the sort, and he went supperless to bed.

The next night the same thing happened, and the prince in his displeasure threatened to discharge his servant. The night after, however, his curiosity being greatly excited as he thought over the circumstance, he called his servant, and said: 'Lay the supper before I go out, and I will lock the room and take the key in my pocket, and we will see if anyone gets in then.'

But, though this is what he said outloud, he determined to stay hidden within the room; and this is what he did. He had not remained there hidden very long when, lo and behold, the candelabrum, on which he had never bestowed a thought since the moment he bought it, opened, and there walked out the most beautiful princess he had ever seen, who sat down at the table, and began to sup with hearty appetite.

'Welcome, welcome, fair princess!' exclaimed the astonished prince. 'You have heard me from within your hiding-place speaking with indignation because my meal had been disturbed. How little did I imagine such an honour had been done me as that it should have served you!' And he sat down beside her, and they finished the meal together. When it was over, the princess went away into her candelabrum again; and the next night the prince said to his servant: 'In case anyone eats my supper while I am out, you had better bring up a double portion.' The next day he had not his supper only, but all his meals, brought into his apartment; nor did he ever leave it at all now, so happy was he in the society of the princess.

Then the king and queen began to question about him, saying: 'What has bereft our son of his senses, seeing that now he no more follows the due occupations of his years, but sits all day apart in his room?'

Then they called him to them and said: 'It is not well that you should sit thus all day long in your private apartments alone. It is time that you should bethink yourself of taking a wife.'

But the prince answered, 'No other wife will I have but the candelabrum.'

When his parents heard him say this they said: 'Now there is no doubt that he is mad;' and they spoke no more about his marrying.

But one day, the queen-mother coming into his apartment suddenly, found the door of the candelabrum open, and the princess sitting talking with the prince. Then she, too, was struck with her beauty, and said: 'If this is what you were thinking of when you said you would marry the candelabrum, it was well judged.' And she took the princess by the hand and led her to the presence of the king. The king, too, praised her beauty, and she was given to the prince to be his wife.

And the king her father, when he heard of the alliance, he too was right glad, and said he esteemed it far above that of the ugly old king he wanted her to have married at the first.

[The mode of telling adopted by Roman narrators makes a way out of the difficulty which this group of stories presents at first sight in the king seeming to be fated by supernatural appointment to marry his daughter. One says, 'the queen did not say he was to marry her the ring fitted, but he was not to marry any it did not fit.' The other says, the slipper was a supernatural slipper, and would not fit anyone whom he could marry. Whether this was a part of the traditional story or the gloss of the repeater, I do not pretend to decide. In the 'Candeliera,' though similar in the main, this difficulty does not arise.

My Roman narrators seem to have been fonder of stories of maidens than of youths. I have only one of the latter, and by no means an uncommon one, to set off against all the Stepmother stories of the former. It, however, is the male counterpart of a prolific family in which the girls figure under similar circumstances. Grimm gives several, particularly 'Frau Holle,' p. 104. Dr. Dasent gives 'The two Stepsisters.' In the Tales of Italian Tirol are two, 'Cölla döllö doi sores' and 'Le due sorelle.' And among the Russian Tales, 'Frost,' p. 214. It has also been connected with the large group in which a rich brother (sometimes the elder, sometimes the younger) leaves his poor brother to starve, and ultimately gets terribly punished for enviously grasping at the poor one's subsequent good fortune: but the structure of these is very different.]

THE TWO HUNCHBACKED BROTHERS. [83]

There was once a man who had one son, who married a widow who also had one son, and both were hunchbacks. The wife took very good care of her own son, but the son of her husband she used to put to hard work and gave him scarcely anything to eat. Her son, too, used to imitate his mother, and sadly ill-treat his stepbrother.

After treating him ill for a long time, she at last sent him away from the house altogether.

The poor little hunchback wandered away without knowing where to go.

On, on, on he went, till at last he came to a lonely hut on a wide moor. At his approach a whole host of little hunchbacks came out and danced round him, chanting plaintively--

Sabbato!
Domenica!

a great number of times. At last our little hunchback felt his courage stirred, and, taking up the note of their chant, chimed in with--

Lunedì!

Instantly the dancing ceased, all the little hunchback dwarfs became full-grown, well-formed men, and, what was better still, his own hump was gone too, and he felt that he, too, was a well-grown lad.

'Good people,' said our hunchback--now hunchbacked no more--'I thank you much for ridding me of my hump and making me a well-grown lad. Give me now some work to do among you, and let me live with you.'