Chapter III: Part 3

If Gebhart had been wonder-struck at seeing the outside of the castle, he was ten thousand times more amazed to see the inside thereof. For, as the master led the way and he followed, he passed through four-and-twenty rooms, each one more wonderful than the other. Everywhere was gold and silver and dazzling jewels that glistened so brightly that one had to shut one’s eyes to their sparkle. Beside all this, there were silks and satins and velvets and laces and crystal and ebony and sandal-wood that smelled sweeter than musk and rose leaves. All the wealth of the world brought together into one place could not make such riches as Gebhart saw with his two eyes in these four-and-twenty rooms. His heart beat fast within him.

At last they reached a little door of solid iron, beside which hung a sword with a blade that shone like lightning. The master took the sword in one hand and laid the other upon the latch of the door. Then he turned to Gebhart and spoke for the first time since they had started upon their long journey.

“In this room,” said he, “you will see a strange thing happen, and in a little while I shall be as one dead. As soon as that comes to pass, go you straightway through to the room beyond, where you will find upon a marble table a goblet of water and a silver dagger. Touch nothing else, and look at nothing else, for if you do all will be lost to both of us. Bring the water straightway, and sprinkle my face with it, and when that is done you and I will be the wisest and greatest men that ever lived, for I will make you equal to myself in all that I know. So now swear to do what I have just bid you, and not turn aside a hair’s breadth in the going and the coming.

“I swear,” said Gebhart, and crossed his heart.

Then the master opened the door and entered, with Gebhart close at his heels.

In the centre of the room was a great red cock, with eyes that shone like sparks of fire. So soon as he saw the master he flew at him, screaming fearfully, and spitting out darts of fire that blazed and sparkled like lightning.

It was a dreadful battle between the master and the cock. Up and down they fought, and here and there. Sometimes the student could see the wise man whirling and striking with his sword; and then again he would be hidden in a sheet of flame. But after a while he made a lucky stroke, and off flew the cock’s head. Then, lo and behold! instead of a cock it was a great, hairy, black demon that lay dead on the floor.

But, though the master had conquered, he looked like one sorely sick. He was just able to stagger to a couch that stood by the wall, and there he fell and lay, without breath or motion, like one dead, and as white as wax.

As soon as Gebhart had gathered his wits together he remembered what the master had said about the other room.

The door of it was also of iron. He opened it and passed within, and there saw two great tables or blocks of polished marble. Upon one was the dagger and a goblet of gold brimming with water. Upon the other lay the figure of a woman, and as Gebhart looked at her he thought her more beautiful than any thought or dream could picture. But her eyes were closed, and she lay like a lifeless figure of wax.

After Gebhart had gazed at her a long, long time, he took up the goblet and the dagger from the table and turned towards the door.

Then, before he left that place, he thought that he would have just one more look at the beautiful figure. So he did, and gazed and gazed until his heart melted away within him like a lump of butter; and, hardly knowing what he did, he stooped and kissed the lips.

Instantly he did so a great humming sound filled the whole castle, so sweet and musical that it made him tremble to listen. Then suddenly the figure opened its eyes and looked straight at him.

“At last!” she said; “have you come at last?”

“Yes,” said Gebhart, “I have come.”

Then the beautiful woman arose and stepped down from the table to the floor; and if Gebhart thought her beautiful before, he thought her a thousand times more beautiful now that her eyes looked into his.

“Listen,” said she. “I have been asleep for hundreds upon hundreds of years, for so it was fated to be until he should come who was to bring me back to life again. You are he, and now you shall live with me forever. In this castle is the wealth gathered by the king of the genii, and it is greater than all the riches of the world. It and the castle likewise shall be yours. I can transport everything into any part of the world you choose, and can by my arts make you prince or king or emperor. Come.”

“Stop,” said Gebhart. “I must first do as my master bade me.”

He led the way into the other room, the lady following him, and so they both stood together by the couch where the wise man lay. When the lady saw his face she cried out in a loud voice: “It is the great master! What are you going to do?”

“I am going to sprinkle his face with this water,” said Gebhart.

“Stop!” said she. “Listen to what I have to say. In your hand you hold the water of life and the dagger of death. The master is not dead, but sleeping; if you sprinkle that water upon him he will awaken, young, handsome and more powerful than the greatest magician that ever lived. I myself, this castle, and everything that is in it will be his, and, instead of your becoming a prince or a king or an emperor, he will be so in your place. That, I say, will happen if he wakens. Now the dagger of death is the only thing in the world that has power to kill him. You have it in your hand. You have but to give him one stroke with it while he sleeps, and he will never waken again, and then all will be yours--your very own.”

Gebhart neither spoke nor moved, but stood looking down upon his master. Then he set down the goblet very softly on the floor, and, shutting his eyes that he might not see the blow, raised the dagger to strike.

“That is all your promises amount to,” said Nicholas Flamel the wise man. “After all, Babette, you need not bring the bread and cheese, for he shall be no pupil of mine.”

Then Gebhart opened his eyes.

There sat the wise man in the midst of his books and bottles and diagrams and dust and chemicals and cobwebs, making strange figures upon the table with jackstraws and a piece of chalk.

And Babette, who had just opened the cupboard door for the loaf of bread and the cheese, shut it again with a bang, and went back to her spinning.

So Gebhart had to go back again to his Greek and Latin and algebra and geometry; for, after all, one cannot pour a gallon of beer into a quart pot, or the wisdom of a Nicholas Flamel into such an one as Gebhart.

As for the name of this story, why, if some promises are not bottles full of nothing but wind, there is little need to have a name for anything.

“Since we are in the way of talking of fools,” said the Fisherman who drew the Genie out of the sea--“since we are in the way of talking of fools, I can tell you a story of the fool of all fools, and how, one after the other, he wasted as good gifts as a man’s ears ever heard tell of.”

“What was his name?” said the Lad who fiddled for the Jew in the bramble-bush.

“That,” said the Fisherman, “I do not know.”

“And what is this story about?” asked St. George.

“Tis,” said the Fisherman, “about a hole in the ground.”

“And is that all?” said the Soldier who cheated the Devil.

“Nay,” said the Fisherman, blowing a whiff from his pipe; “there were some things in the hole--a bowl of treasure, an earthen-ware jar, and a pair of candlesticks.”

“And what do you call your story,” said St. George.

“Why,” said the Fisherman, “for lack of a better name I will call it--”

Good Gifts and a Fool’s Folly.

Give a fool heaven and earth, and all the stars, and he will make ducks and drakes of them.

Once upon a time there was an old man, who, by thrifty living and long saving, had laid by a fortune great enough to buy ease and comfort and pleasure for a lifetime.

By-and-by he died, and the money came to his son, who was of a different sort from the father; for, what that one had gained by the labor of a whole year, the other spent in riotous living in one week.

So it came about in a little while that the young man found himself without so much as a single penny to bless himself withal. Then his fair-weather friends left him, and the creditors came and seized upon his house and his household goods, and turned him out into the cold wide world to get along as best he might with the other fools who lived there.

Now the young spendthrift was a strong, stout fellow, and, seeing nothing better to do, he sold his fine clothes and bought him a porter’s basket, and went and sat in the corner of the market-place to hire himself out to carry this or that for folk who were better off in the world, and less foolish than he.

There he sat, all day long, from morning until evening, but nobody came to hire him. But at last, as dusk was settling, there came along an old man with beard as white as snow hanging down below his waist. He stopped in front of the foolish spendthrift, and stood looking at him for a while; then, at last, seeming to be satisfied, he beckoned with his finger to the young man. “Come,” said he, “I have a task for you to do, and if you are wise, and keep a still tongue in your head, I will pay you as never a porter was paid before.”

You may depend upon it the young man needed no second bidding to such a matter. Up he rose, and took his basket, and followed the old man, who led the way up one street and down another, until at last they came to a rickety, ramshackle house in a part of the town the young man had never been before. Here the old man stopped and knocked at the door, which was instantly opened, as though of itself, and then he entered with the young spendthrift at his heels. The two passed through a dark passage-way, and another door, and then, lo and behold! all was changed; for they had come suddenly into such a place as the young man would not have believed could be in such a house, had he not seen it with his own eyes. Thousands of waxen tapers lit the place as bright as day--a great oval room, floored with mosaic of a thousand bright colors and strange figures, and hung with tapestries of silks and satins and gold and silver. The ceiling was painted to represent the sky, through which flew beautiful birds and winged figures so life-like that no one could tell that they were only painted, and not real. At the farther side of the room were two richly cushioned couches, and thither the old man led the way with the young spendthrift following, wonder-struck, and there the two sat themselves down. Then the old man smote his hands together, and, in answer, ten young men and ten beautiful girls entered bearing a feast of rare fruits and wines which they spread before them, and the young man, who had been fasting since morning, fell to and ate as he had not eaten for many a day.

The old man, who himself ate but little, waited patiently for the other to end. “Now,” said he, as soon as the young man could eat no more, “you have feasted and you have drunk; it is time for us to work.”

Thereupon he rose from the couch and led the way, the young man following, through an arch door-way into a garden, in the centre of which was an open space paved with white marble, and in the centre of that again a carpet, ragged and worn, spread out upon the smooth stones. Without saying a word, the old man seated himself upon one end of this carpet, and motioned to the spendthrift to seat himself with his basket at the other end; then--

“Are you ready?” said the old man.

“Yes,” said the young man, “I am.”

“Then, by the horn of Jacob,” said the old man, “I command thee, O Carpet! to bear us over hill and valley, over lake and river, to that spot whither I wish to go.” Hardly had the words left his mouth when away flew the carpet, swifter than the swiftest wind, carrying the old man and the young spendthrift, until at last it brought them to a rocky desert without leaf or blade of grass to be seen far or near. Then it descended to where there was a circle of sand as smooth as a floor.

The old man rolled up the carpet, and then drew from a pouch that hung at his side a box, and from the box some sticks of sandal and spice woods, with which he built a little fire. Next he drew from the same pouch a brazen jar, from which he poured a gray powder upon the blaze. Instantly there leaped up a great flame of white light and a cloud of smoke, which rose high in the air, and there spread out until it hid everything from sight. Then the old man began to mutter spells, and in answer the earth shook and quaked, and a rumbling as of thunder filled the air. At last he gave a loud cry, and instantly the earth split open, and there the young spendthrift saw a trap-door of iron, in which was an iron ring to lift it by.

“Look!” said the old man. “Yonder is the task for which I have brought you; lift for me that trap-door of iron, for it is too heavy for me to raise, and I will pay you well.”

And it was no small task, either, for, stout and strong as the young man was, it was all he could do to lift up the iron plate. But at last up it swung, and down below he saw a flight of stone steps leading into the earth.

The old man drew from his bosom a copper lamp, which he lit at the fire of the sandal and spice wood sticks, which had now nearly died away. Then, leading the way, with the young man following close at his heels, he descended the stairway that led down below. At the bottom the two entered a great vaulted room, carved out of the solid stone, upon the walls of which were painted strange pictures in bright colors of kings and queens, genii and dragons. Excepting for these painted figures, the vaulted room was perfectly bare, only that in the centre of the floor there stood three stone tables. Upon the first table stood an iron candlestick with three branches; upon the second stood an earthen jar, empty of everything but dust; upon the third stood a brass bowl, a yard wide and a yard deep, and filled to the brim with shining, gleaming, dazzling jewels of all sorts.

“Now,” said the old man to the spendthrift, “I will do to you as I promised: I will pay you as never man was paid before for such a task. Yonder upon those three stone tables are three great treasures: choose whichever one you will, and it is yours.”

“I shall not be long in choosing,” cried the young spendthrift. “I shall choose the brass bowl of jewels.”

The old man laughed. “So be it,” said he. “Fill your basket from the bowl with all you can carry, and that will be enough, provided you live wisely, to make you rich for as long as you live.”

The young man needed no second bidding, but began filling his basket with both hands, until he had in it as much as he could carry.

Then the old man, taking the iron candlestick and the earthen jar, led the way up the stairway again. There the young man lowered the iron trap-door to its place, and so soon as he had done so the other stamped his heel upon the ground, and the earth closed of itself as smooth and level as it had been before.

The two sat themselves upon the carpet, the one upon the one end, and the other upon the other. “By the horn of Jacob,” said the old man, “I command thee, O Carpet! to fly over hill and valley, over lake and river, until thou hast brought us back whence we came.”

Away flew the carpet, and in a little time they were back in the garden from which they had started upon their journey; and there they parted company. “Go thy way, young man,” said the old graybeard, “and henceforth try to live more wisely than thou hast done heretofore. I know well who thou art, and how thou hast lived. Shun thy evil companions, live soberly, and thou hast enough to make thee rich for as long as thou livest.”

“Have no fear,” cried the young man, joyfully. “I have learned a bitter lesson, and henceforth I will live wisely and well.”

So, filled with good resolves, the young man went the next day to his creditors and paid his debts; he bought back the house which his father had left him, and there began to lead a new life as he had promised.

But a gray goose does not become white, nor a foolish man a wise one.

At first he led a life sober enough; but by little and little he began to take up with his old-time friends again, and by-and-by the money went flying as merrily as ever, only this time he was twenty times richer than he had been before, and he spent his money twenty times as fast. Every day there was feasting and drinking going on in his house, and roaring and rioting and dancing and singing. The wealth of a king could not keep up such a life forever, so by the end of a year and a half the last of the treasure was gone, and the young spendthrift was just as poor as ever. Then once again his friends left him as they had done before, and all that he could do was to rap his head and curse his folly.

At last, one morning, he plucked up courage to go to the old man who had helped him once before, to see whether he would not help him again. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and who should open it but the old man himself. “Well,” said the graybeard, “what do you want?”

“I want some help,” said the spendthrift; and then he told him all, and the old man listened and stroked his beard.

“By rights,” said he, when the young man had ended, “I should leave you alone in your folly; for it is plain to see that nothing can cure you of it. Nevertheless, as you helped me once, and as I have more than I shall need, I will share what I have with you. Come in and shut the door.”

He led the way, the spendthrift following, to a little room all of bare stone, and in which were only three things--the magic carpet, the iron candlestick, and the earthen jar. This last the old man gave to the foolish spendthrift. “My friend,” said he, “when you chose the money and jewels that day in the cavern, you chose the less for the greater. Here is a treasure that an emperor might well envy you. Whatever you wish for you will find by dipping your hand into the jar. Now go your way, and let what was happened cure you of your folly.”

“It shall,” cried the young man; “never again will I be so foolish as I have been!” And thereupon he went his way with another pocketful of good resolves.

The first thing he did when he reached home was to try the virtue of his jar. “I should like,” said he, “to have a handful of just such treasure as I brought from the cavern over yonder.” He dipped his hand into the jar, and when he brought it out again it was brimful of shining, gleaming, sparkling jewels. You can guess how he felt when he saw them.

Well, this time a whole year went by, during which the young man lived as soberly as a judge. But at the end of the twelvemonth he was so sick of wisdom that he loathed it as one loathes bitter drink. Then by little and little he began to take up with his old ways again, and to call his old cronies around, until at the end of another twelvemonth things were a hundred times worse and wilder than ever; for now what he had he had without end.

One day, when he and a great party of roisterers were shouting and making merry, he brought out his earthen-ware pot to show them the wonders of it; and to prove its virtue he gave to each guest whatever he wanted. “What will you have?”--“A handful of gold.”--“Put your hand in and get it!”--“What will you have?”--“A fistful of pearls.”--“Put your fist in and get them!”--“What will you have?”--“A necklace of diamonds.”--“Dip into the jar and get it.” And so he went from one to another, and each and every one got what he asked for, and such a shouting and hubbub those walls had never heard before.

Then the young man, holding the jar in his hands, began to dance and to sing: “O wonderful jar! O beautiful jar! O beloved jar!” and so on, his friends clapping their hands, and laughing and cheering him. At last, in the height of his folly, he balanced the earthen jar on his head, and began dancing around and around with it to show his dexterity.

Smash! crash! The precious jar lay in fifty pieces of the stone floor, and the young man stood staring at the result of his folly with bulging eyes, while his friends roared and laughed and shouted louder than ever over his mishap. And again his treasure and his gay life were gone.

But what had been hard for him to do before was easier now. At the end of a week he was back at the old man’s house, rapping on the door. This time the old man asked him never a word, but frowned as black as thunder.

“I know,” said he, “what has happened to you. If I were wise I should let you alone in your folly; but once more I will have pity on you and will help you, only this time it shall be the last.” Once more he led the way to the stone room, where were the iron candlestick and the magic carpet, and with him he took a good stout cudgel. He stood the candlestick in the middle of the room, and taking three candles from his pouch, thrust one into each branch. Then he struck a light, and lit the first candle. Instantly there appeared a little old man, clad in a long white robe, who began dancing and spinning around and around like a top. He lit the second candle, and a second old man appeared, and round and round he went, spinning like his brother. He lit the third candle, and a third old man appeared. Around and around and around they spun and whirled, until the head spun and whirled to look at them. Then the old graybeard gripped the cudgel in his hand. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“We are ready, and waiting,” answered the three. Thereupon, without another word, the graybeard fetched each of the dancers a blow upon the head with might and main--One! two! three! crack! crash! jingle!

Lo and behold! Instead of the three dancing men, there lay three great heaps of gold upon the floor, and the spendthrift stood staring like an owl. “There,” said the old man, “take what you want, and then go your way, and trouble me no more.”

“Well,” said the spendthrift, “of all the wonders that ever I saw, this is the most wonderful! But how am I to carry my gold away with me, seeing I did not fetch my basket?”

“You shall have a basket,” said the old man, “if only you will trouble me no more. Just wait here a moment until I bring it to you.”

The spendthrift was left all alone in the room; not a soul was there but himself. He looked up, and he looked down, and scratched his head. “Why,” he cried aloud, “should I be content to take a part when I can have the whole?”

To do was as easy as to say. He snatched up the iron candlestick, caught up the staff that the old man had left leaning against the wall, and seated himself upon the magic carpet. “By the horn of Jacob,” he cried, “I command thee, O Carpet! to carry me over hill and valley, over lake and river, to a place where the old man can never find me.”

Hardly had the words left his mouth than away flew the carpet through the air, carrying him along with it; away and away, higher than the clouds and swifter than the wind. Then at last it descended to the earth again, and when the young spendthrift looked about him, he found himself in just such a desert place as he and the old man had come to when they had found the treasure. But he gave no thought to that, and hardly looked around him to see where he was. All that he thought of was to try his hand at the three dancers that belonged to the candlestick. He struck a light, and lit the three candles, and instantly the three little old men appeared for him just as they had for the old graybeard. And around and around they spun and whirled, until the sand and dust spun and whirled along with them. Then the young man grasped his cudgel tightly.

Now, he had not noticed that when the old man struck the three dancers he had held the cudgel in his left hand, for he was not wise enough to know that great differences come from little matters. He griped the cudgel in his right hand, and struck the dancers with might and main, just as the old man had done. Crack! crack! crack! one; two; three.

Did they change into piles of gold? Not a bit of it! Each of the dancers drew from under his robe a cudgel as stout and stouter than the one the young man himself held, and, without a word, fell upon him and began to beat and drub him until the dust flew. In vain he hopped and howled and begged for mercy, in vain he tried to defend himself; the three never stopped until he fell to the ground, and laid there panting and sighing and groaning; and then they left and flew back with the iron candlestick and the magic carpet to the old man again. At last, after a great while, the young spendthrift sat up, rubbing the sore places; but when he looked around not a sign was to be seen of anything but the stony desert, without a house or a man in sight.

Perhaps, after a long time, he found his way home again, and perhaps the drubbing he had had taught him wisdom; the first is a likely enough thing to happen, but as for the second, it would need three strong men to tell it to me a great many times before I would believe it.

You may smile at this story if you like, but, all the same, as certainly as there is meat in an egg-shell, so is there truth in this nonsense. For, “Give a fool heaven and earth,” say I, “and all the stars, and he will make ducks and drakes of them.”

Fortunatus lifted his canican to his lips and took a long, hearty draught of ale. “Methinks,” said he, “that all your stories have a twang of the same sort about them. You all of you, except my friend the Soldier here, play the same tune upon a different fiddle. Nobody comes to any good.”

St. George drew a long whiff of his pipe, and then puffed out a cloud of smoke as big as his head. “Perhaps,” said he to Fortunatus, “you know of a story which turns out differently. If you do, let us have it, for it is your turn now.”

“Very well,” said Fortunatus, “I will tell you a story that turns out as it should, where the lad marries a beautiful princess and becomes a king into the bargain.”

“And what is your story about?” said the Lad who fiddled for Jew in the bramble-bush.

“It is,” said Fortunatus, “about--”

The Good of a Few Words

There was one Beppo the Wise and another Beppo the Foolish.

The wise one was the father of the foolish one.

Beppo the Wise was called Beppo the Wise because he had laid up a great treasure after a long life of hard work.

Beppo the Foolish was called Beppo the Foolish because he spent in five years after his father was gone from this world of sorrow all that the old man had laid together in his long life of toil. But during that time Beppo lived as a prince, and the life was never seen in that town before or since--feasting and drinking and junketing and merrymaking. He had friends by the dozen and by the scores, and the fame of his doings went throughout all the land.

While his money lasted he was called Beppo the Generous. It was only after it was all gone that they called him Beppo the Foolish.

So by-and-by the money was spent, and there was an end of it.

Yes; there was an end of it; and where were all of Beppo’s fair-weather friends? Gone like the wild-geese in frosty weather.

“Don’t you remember how I gave you a bagful of gold?” says Beppo the Foolish. “Won’t you remember me now in my time of need?”

But the fair-weather friend only laughed in his face.

“Don’t you remember how I gave you a fine gold chain with a diamond pendant?” says Beppo to another. “And won’t you lend me a little money to help me over to-day?”

But the summer-goose friend only grinned.

“But what shall I do to keep body and soul together?” says Beppo to a third.

The man was a wit. “Go to a shoemaker,” said he, “and let him stitch the soul fast;” and that was all the good Beppo had of him.

Then poor Beppo saw that there was not place for him in that town, and so off he went to seek his fortune else whither, for he saw that there was nothing to be gained in that place.

So he journeyed on for a week and a day, and then towards evening he came to the king’s town.

There it stood on the hill beside the river--the grandest city in the kingdom. There were orchards and plantations of trees along the banks of the stream, and gardens and summer-houses and pavilions. There were white houses and red roofs and blue skies. Up above on the hill were olive orchards and fields, and then blue sky again.

Beppo went into the town, gazing about him with admiration. Houses, palaces, gardens. He had never seen the like. Stores and shops full of cloths of velvet and silk and satin; goldsmiths, silversmiths, jewellers--as though all the riches of the world had been emptied into the city. Crowds of people--lords, noblemen, courtiers, rich merchants, and tradesmen.

Beppo stared about at the fine sights and everybody stared at Beppo, for his shoes were dusty, his clothes were travel-stained, and a razor had not touched his face for a week.

The king of that country was walking in the garden under the shade of the trees, and the sunlight slanted down upon him, and sparkled upon the jewels around his neck and on his fingers. Two dogs walked alongside of him, and a whole crowd of lords and nobles and courtiers came behind him; first of all the prime-minister with his long staff.

But for all this fine show this king was not really the king. When the old king died he left a daughter, and she should have been queen if she had had her own rights. But this king, who was her uncle, had stepped in before her, and so the poor princess was pushed aside and was nobody at all but a princess, the king’s niece.

She stood on the terrace with her old nurse, while the king walked in the garden below.

It had been seven years now since the old king had died, and in that time she had grown up into a beautiful young woman, as wise as she was beautiful, and as good as she was wise. Few people ever saw her, but everybody talked about her in whispers and praised her beauty and goodness, saying that, if the right were done, she would have her own and be queen.

Sometimes the king heard of this (for a king hears everything), and he grew to hate the princess as a man hates bitter drink.

The princess looked down from the terrace, and there she saw Beppo walking along the street, and his shoes were dusty and his clothes were travel-stained, and a razor had not touched his face for a week.

“Look at yonder poor man,” she said to her nurse; “yet if I were his wife he would be greater really than my uncle, the king.”

The king, walking below in the garden, heard what she said.

“Say you so!” he called out. “Then we shall try if what you say is true;” and he turned away, shaking with anger.

“Alas!” said the princess, “now, indeed, have I ruined myself for good and all.”

Beppo was walking along the street looking about him hither and thither, and thinking how fine it all was. He had no more thought that the king and the princess were talking about him than the man in the moon.

Suddenly some one clapped him upon the shoulder.

Beppo turned around.

There stood a great tall man dressed all in black.

“You must come with me,” said he.

“What do you want with me?” said Beppo.

“That you shall see for yourself,” said the man.

“Very well,” said Beppo; “I’d as lief go along with you as anywhere else.”

So he turned and followed the man whither he led.

They went along first one street and then another, and by-and-by they came to the river, and there was a long wall with a gate in it. The tall man in black knocked upon the gate, and some one opened it from within. The man in black entered, and Beppo followed at his heels, wondering where he was going.

He was in a garden. There were fruit trees and flowering shrubs and long marble walks, and away in the distance a great grand palace of white marble that shone red as fire in the light of the setting sun, but there was not a soul to be seen anywhere.

The tall man in black led the way up the long marble walk, past the fountains and fruit trees and beds of roses, until he had come to the palace.

Beppo wondered whether he were dreaming.

The tall man in black led the way into the palace, but still there was not a soul to be seen.

Beppo gazed about him in wonder. There were floors of colored marble, and ceilings of blue and gold, and columns of carved marble, and hangings of silk and velvet and silver.

Suddenly the tall man opened a little door that led into a dark passage, and Beppo followed him. They went along the passage, and then the man opened another door.

Then Beppo found himself in a great vaulted room. There at one end of the room were three souls. A man sat on the throne, and he was the king, for he had a crown on his head and a long robe over his shoulders. Beside him stood a priest, and in front of him stood a beautiful young woman as white as wax and as still as death.

Beppo wondered whether he were awake.

“Come hither,” said the king, in a harsh voice, and Beppo came forward and kneeled before him. “Take this young woman by the hand,” said the king.

Beppo did as he was bidden.

Her hand was as cold as ice.

Then, before Beppo knew what was happening, he found that he was being married.

It was the princess.

“Now,” said the king to her when the priest had ended, and he frowned until his brows were as black as thunder--“now you are married; tell me, is your husband greater than I?”

But the princess said never a word, only the tears ran one after another down her white face. The king sat staring at her and frowning.

Suddenly some one tapped Beppo upon the shoulder. It was the tall man in black.

Beppo knew that he was to follow him again. This time the princess was to go along. The tall man in black led the way, and Beppo and the princess followed along the secret passage and up and down the stairs until at last they came out into the garden again.

And now the evening was beginning to fall.

The man led the way down the garden to the river, and still Beppo and the princess followed him.

By-and-by they came to the river-side and to a flight of steps, and there was a little frail boat without sail or oars.

The tall man in black beckoned towards the boat, and Beppo knew that he and princess were to enter it.

As soon as Beppo had helped the princess into the boat the tall man thrust it out into the stream with his foot, and the boat drifted away from the shore and out into the river, and then around and around. Then it floated off down the stream.

It floated on and on, and the sun set and the moon rose.

Beppo looked at the princess, and he thought he had never seen any one so beautiful in all his life. It was all like a dream, and he hoped he might never waken. But the princess sat there weeping and weeping, and said nothing.

The night fell darker and darker, but still Beppo sat looking at the princess. Her face was as white as silver in the moonlight. The smell of the flower-gardens came across the river. The boat floated on and on until by-and-by it drifted to the shore again and among the river reeds, and there it stopped, and Beppo carried the princess ashore.

“Listen,” said the princess. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” said Beppo, “I do not.”

“I am the princess,” said she, “the king’s niece; and by rights I should be queen of this land.”

Beppo could not believe his ears.

“It is true that I am married to you,” said she, “but never shall you be my husband until you are king.”

“King!” said Beppo; “how can I be king?”

“You shall be king,” said the princess.

“But the king is everything,” said Beppo, “and I am nothing at all.”

“Great things come from small beginnings,” said the princess; “a big tree from a little seed.”

Some little distance away from the river was the twinkle of a light, and thither Beppo led the princess. When the two came to it, they found it was a little hut, for there were fish-nets hanging outside in the moonlight.

Beppo knocked.

An old woman opened the door. She stared and stared, as well she might, to see the fine lady in silks and satins with a gold ring upon her finger, and nobody with her but one who looked like a poor beggar-man.

“Who are you and what do you want?” said the old woman.

“Who we are,” said the princess, “does not matter, except that we are honest folk in trouble. What we want is shelter for the night and food to eat, and that we will pay for.”

“Shelter I can give you,” said the old woman, “but little else but a crust of bread and a cup of water. One time there was enough and plenty in the house; but now, since my husband has gone and I am left all alone, it is little I have to eat and drink. But such as I have to give you are welcome to.”

Then Beppo and the princess went into the house.

The next morning the princess called Beppo to her. “Here,” said she, “is a ring and a letter. Go you into the town and inquire for Sebastian the Goldsmith. He will know what to do.”

Beppo took the ring and the letter and started off to town, and it was not hard for him to find the man he sought, for every one knew of Sebastian the Goldsmith. He was an old man, with a great white beard and a forehead like the dome of a temple. He looked at Beppo from head to foot with eyes as bright as those of a snake; then he took the ring and the letter. As soon as he saw the ring he raised it to his lips and kissed it; then he kissed the letter also; then he opened it and read it.

He turned to Beppo and bowed very low. “My lord,” said he, “I will do as I am commanded. Will you be pleased to follow me?”

He led the way into an inner room. There were soft rugs upon the floor, and around the walls were tapestries. There were couches and silken cushions. Beppo wondered what it all meant.

Sebastian the Goldsmith clapped his hands together. A door opened, and there came three black slaves into the room. The Goldsmith spoke to them in a strange language, and the chief of the three black slaves bowed in reply. Then he and the others led Beppo into another room where there was a marble bath of tepid water. They bathed him and rubbed him with soft linen towels; then they shaved the beard from his cheeks and chin and trimmed his hair; then they clothed him in fine linen and a plain suit of gray and Beppo looked like a new man.

Then when all this was done the chief of the blacks conducted Beppo back to Sebastian the Goldsmith. There was a fine feast spread, with fruit and wine. Beppo sat down to it, and Sebastian the Goldsmith stood and served him with a napkin over his arm.

Then Beppo was to return to the princess again.

A milk-white horse was waiting for him at the Goldsmith’s door, a servant holding the bridle, and Beppo mounted and rode away.

When he returned to the fisherman’s hut the princess was waiting for him. She had prepared a tray spread with a napkin, a cup of milk, and some sweet cakes.

“Listen,” said she; “to-day the king hunts in the forest over yonder. Go you thither with this. The king will be hot and thirsty, and weary with the chase. Offer him this refreshment. He will eat and drink, and in gratitude he will offer you something in return. Take nothing of him, but ask him this: that he allow you once every three days to come to the palace, and that he whisper these words in your ear so that no one else may hear them--‘A word, a word, only a few words; spoken ill, they are ill; spoken well, they are more precious than gold and jewels.’”

“Why should I do that?” said Beppo.

“You will see,” said the princess.

Beppo did not understand it at all, but the princess is a princess and must be obeyed, and so he rode away on his horse at her bidding.

It was as the princess had said: the king was hunting in the forest, and when Beppo came there he could hear the shouts of the men and the winding of horns and the baying of dogs. He waited there for maybe an hour or more, and sometimes the sounds were nearer and sometimes the sounds were farther away. Presently they came nearer and nearer, and then all of a sudden the king came riding out of the forest, the hounds hunting hither and thither, and the lords and nobles and courtiers following him.

The king’s face was flushed and heated with the chase, and his forehead was bedewed with sweat. Beppo came forward and offered the tray. The king wiped his face with the napkin, and then drank the milk and ate three of the cakes.

“Who was it ordered you to bring this to me?” said he to Beppo.

“No one,” said Beppo; “I brought it myself.”

The king looked at Beppo and was grateful to him.

“Thou hast given me pleasure and comfort,” said he; “ask what thou wilt in return and if it is in reason thou shalt have it.”

“I will have only this,” said Beppo: “that your majesty will allow me once every three days to come to the palace, and that then you will take me aside and will whisper these words into my ear so that no one else may hear them--A word, a word, only a few words; spoken ill, they are ill; spoken well, they are more precious than gold and jewels.’”

The king burst out laughing. “Why,” said he, “what is this foolish thing you ask of me? If you had asked for a hundred pieces of gold you should have had them. Think better, friend, and ask something of more worth than this foolish thing.”

“Please your majesty,” said Beppo, “I ask nothing else.”

The king laughed again. “Then you shall have what you ask,” said he, and he rode away.

The next morning the princess said to Beppo: “This day you shall go and claim the king’s promise of him. Take this ring and this letter again to Sebastian the Goldsmith. He will fit you with clothes in which to appear before the king. Then go to the king’s palace that he may whisper those words he has to say into your ear.”

Once more Beppo went to Sebastian the Goldsmith, and the Goldsmith kissed the princess’s ring and letter, and read what she had written.

Again the black slaves took Beppo to the bath, only this time they clad him in a fine suit of velvet and hung a gold chain around his neck. After that Sebastian the Goldsmith again served a feast to Beppo, and waited upon him while he ate and drank.

In front of the house a noble horse, as black as jet, was waiting to carry Beppo to the palace, and two servants dressed in velvet livery were waiting to attend him.

So Beppo rode away, and many people stopped to look at him.

He came to the palace, and the king was giving audience. Beppo went into the great audience-chamber. It was full of people--lords and nobles and rich merchants and lawyers.

Beppo did not know how to come to the king, so he stood there and waited and waited. The people looked at him and whispered to one another: “Who is that young man?” “Whence comes he?” Then one said: “Is not he the young man who served the king with cakes and milk in the forest yesterday?”

Beppo stood there gazing at the king. By-and-by the king suddenly looked up and caught sight of him. He gazed at Beppo for a moment or two and then he knew him. Then he smiled and beckoned to him.

“Aye, my foolish benefactor,” said he, aloud, “is it thou, and art thou come so soon to redeem thy promise? Very well; come hither, I have something to say to thee.”

Beppo came forward, and everybody stared. He came close to the king, and the king laid his hand upon his shoulder. Then he leaned over to Beppo and whispered in his ear: “A word, a word, only a few words; if they be spoken ill, they are ill; if they be spoken well, they are more precious than gold and jewels.” Then he laughed. “Is that what you would have me say?” said he.

“Yes, majesty,” said Beppo, and he bowed low and withdrew.

But, lo and behold, what a change!

Suddenly he was transformed in the eyes of the whole world. The crowd drew back to allow him to pass, and everybody bowed low as he went along.

“Did you not see the king whisper to him,” said one. “What could it be that the king said?” said another. “This must be a new favorite,” said a third.

He had come into the palace Beppo the Foolish; he went forth Beppo the Great Man, and all because of a few words the king had whispered in his ear.

Three days passed, and then Beppo went again to the Goldsmith’s with the ring and a letter from the princess. This time Sebastian the Goldsmith fitted him with a suit of splendid plum-colored silk and gave him a dappled horse, and again Beppo and his two attendants rode away to the palace. And this time every one knew him, and as he went up the steps into the palace all present bowed to him. The king saw him as soon as he appeared, and when he caught sight of him he burst out laughing.

“Aye,” said he, “I was looking for thee today, and wondering how soon thou wouldst come. Come hither till I whisper something in thine ear.”

Then all the lords and nobles and courtiers and ministers drew back, and Beppo went up to the king.

The king laughed and laughed. He laid his arm over Beppo’s shoulder, and again he whispered in his ear: “A word, a word, only a few words; if they be spoken ill, they are ill; if they be spoken well, they are more precious than gold and jewels.”

Then he released Beppo, and Beppo withdrew.

So it continued for three months. Every three days Beppo went to the palace, and the king whispered the words in his ear. Beppo said nothing to any one, and always went away as soon as the king had whispered to him.

Then at last the princess said to him: “Now the time is ripe for doing. Listen! To-day when you go to the palace fix your eyes, when the king speaks to you, upon the prime-minister, and shake your head. The prime-minister will ask you what the king said. Say nothing to him but this: Alas, my poor friend!’”

It was all just as the princess had said.

The king was walking in the garden, with his courtiers and ministers about him. Beppo came to him, and the king, as he always did, laid his hand upon Beppo’s shoulder and whispered in his ear: “A word, a word, only a few words; if they be spoken ill, they are ill; if they be spoken well, they are more precious than gold and jewels.”

While the king was saying these words to Beppo, Beppo was looking fixedly at the prime-minister. While he did so he shook his head three times. Then he bowed low and walked away.

He had not gone twenty paces before some one tapped him upon the arm; it was the prime-minister. Beppo gazed fixedly at him. “Alas, my poor friend!” said he.

The prime-minister turned pale. “It was, then, as I thought,” said he. “The king spoke about me. Will you not tell me what he said?”

Beppo shook his head. “Alas, my poor friend!” said he, and then he walked on.

The prime-minister still followed him.