Chapter XI
The White Princess.
It was to Italy we travelled next, to stay with the Signor, who hadlived in England once, and was a patient of Father's.
It was fearfully hot when we arrived, and most English people had goneaway; but Father and I could bear a lot of sunshine, and we did not goout in the middle of the day.
In the early mornings I went off to explore while Father was stillasleep. Sometimes I made for the hills, but often I chose the city,for I liked to wander through the streets and make friends with thechattering children. They were jolly little beggars, with bare brownfeet and thick dark hair that fell over their faces. My favourites wereGiovanni and Mariannina; their mother worked for a grand Contessawho lived not far from the Signor. Giovanni was thin as a reed, butMariannina, whose curly head did not reach her brother's shoulders, wasas plump as a partridge, and her cheeks were red instead of brown.Adelina, the Signor's housekeeper, told me their names, and thatMariannina was the pride and torment of Giovanni's life.
"He adores her," she said, "but she is surely bewitched. She runsfrom him like a squirrel, and is an imp for mischief. Ah, the poorGiovanni--he has his hands full!"
After this I often met them, and if Mariannina were in a good humour shewould smile at me through her lashes, while if she were cross she wouldfrown like a Witch, and even shake her tiny fist. At this, Giovanniwould look quite shocked, and would beg me in broken English not to behurt at '_la sorellina's_' unkindness.
"She so ver' small!" he pleaded wistfully, and this was always hisexcuse for her.
One day she took it into her head to run away from him, and darted intothe middle of the road, almost under the heels of some prancing horses.I happened to be close by, and seized her red skirt just in time to dragher back. Panting with terror, Giovanni took her from me, and when hefound she was not hurt, for the first time in his life he shook her. Andthen he tried to kiss my hands; I almost wished I had left Mariannina tobe run over. Before I could get away from him, he had thrust upon methe small gilt cage he always carried about with him, and had but justnow tossed on the ground. It held his cherished '_grillo_,' or cricket,a curious pet of which all his playmates seemed very fond.
"It is yours, it is yours!" he cried, and seemed so grieved when I triedto give it back to him that I was obliged to keep it.
The cricket was a merry little creature, with a very loud voice for hissize. "_Cree-cree-cree!_" he chirped, as I carried him to the villa, andhe never once stopped all day. I believe that he sang the whole nightthrough, for I heard him in my dreams; and when I woke I determined toset him free.
I carried the little gilt cage up the slope of a hill before Iopened the door. No sooner had he hopped on the grass, when his"_Cree-cree-cree_" was taken up by hundreds of other crickets, whogathered round him in great excitement, chirping with all their might.As I put my fingers into my ears, a little old woman appeared fromnowhere, and with a wave of her hand sent them all away.
"Many mouths make a small noise great," she said, "and you are not thefirst to be wearied by the crickets' song. The Sorcerer of the SevenHeads[2] liked it as little as you did, and the White Princess owes herhappiness to this. I say what I know, for I am her Fairy Godmother."
[Footnote 2: Crane's Italian Fairy Tales]
"Why, they told me there were no Fairies in Italy!" I cried. And then Iwas sorry that I had spoken, for the little old woman grew pale withrage.
"No Fairies?" she exclaimed. "Ah, foolish ones, worse than blind! Hadyou not believed them you had seen countless Witches and Fays ere this,for Ascension Day has come and gone, and they are all set free. Besidesthese, there are Goblins and Spirits, and fearsome Incubas, and shadowyFates who sway men's destinies. All these abound in our sunny Italy forthose who have eyes to see; and there are also Fairy Godmothers, such asI. The maidens for whom I stand sponsor comb jewels out of their hair;diamonds and pearls, rubies, and shining turquoise. But the WhitePrincess' were always pearls; and pearls often turn to tears."
Then, drawing close to me, as I sat in the long grass, she told me of
The White Princess.
"The fates had dowered Queen Catherine with gifts; but though herhusband was devoted to her, and the kingdom was blessed by a long spellof peace, she sighed unceasingly. One boon alone had been denied her,and without this she did not care to live.
'Let her have her way!' cried the Fates at last, weary of hercomplainings. So one summer dawn a babe was found in the bed of liliesbeneath her window, and now her mourning was turned into joy. For adaughter had been her heart's desire.
The little Princess was christened Fiorita, but from the day of herbirth she was known as the White Princess. Her skin was as purely paleas the petals of her guardian flowers, and the yellow gold of theirstamens was the colour of her hair. But out of her eyes looked a spiritthat boded sorrow--the spirit that would fain know all.
The White Princess grew lovelier day by day, smiling but seldom, andstaring for hours at the distant line of the far horizon, where thehills kept watch for ever over the land Beyond. The Queen looked on withdelight at the unfolding of this tender blossom, but her happiness didnot bring strength, and when in due time the sweet coral lips lisped thesoft word 'Mother,' her soul broke the bonds which held it, and spedaway.
Fiorita was now twice orphaned, for her father, the King, would scarcelylook at her, since he connected her coming with the death of his belovedwife. In order that the sight of her might not continually remind himof his sorrow, he built a fine tower of gold and crystal, and here,surrounded by all her ladies, the White Princess grew into womanhood.Lovely as snow crystals, and cold as the arctic wastes, Fiorita madefew friends, and spoke to none of her inmost thoughts. The Kings of theEarth who came to woo her were abashed by her strange white beauty, andonly the Prince Fiola remained to ask her hand.
He was brave as a lion, and gentle as a woman, as true knights are tothis very day. The sound of his voice as he spake of his love stirredthe Princess' heart to a secret joy; but him, too, she sent awaywith but a glance from her blue-grey eyes. And though I, her FairyGodmother, scolded her well and entreated her to say him yea, shewould not be persuaded.
"Lowered herself from her window by means of a rope ofpearls"]
'First I must see what lies hid in the land Beyond,' she said, and thatvery night, when the Crystal Tower shone wanly in the moon-light, andall her ladies were sleeping, the Princess covered her snow-white robewith a gossamer cloak of clouded grey, and lowered herself from herwindow by means of a rope of pearls, passing through her gardens andinto the forest, which lay between her and the land Beyond. All fearlessin her virgin purity, she listened neither to the Goblins who eyed herhungrily from the shapeless trees and besought her to show them favour,nor to the warnings of compassionate Fays who bade her return to theCrystal Tower.
'I seek the land Beyond,' she cried, not knowing that she could neverreach it except on spirit wings.
Now the Prince Fiola could not sleep for love of her, and this night hestayed his restless wanderings in the Palace grounds by the waters of aplacid lake, for the fancy came to him that therein dwelt some kindlySprite who, perchance, would give him counsel and further his suit.Clear shone the moon above, making the smooth surface into a fairymirror which reflected the swaying trees and the mysteries of forestdepths; and as he looked, the Prince descried the shape of a slim whiteform which seemed to be hurrying onward amidst a forest. The poise ofthe head was Fiorita's; hers, too, was the queenly gait. But thinkingher to be safely sleeping, the Prince believed that his eyes werecheating him, and moodily resumed his walk. When morning came, however,he hastened to the Crystal Tower. He found it in great commotion. Doorswere opened and shut in rapid succession, and scared attendants ran inand out like ants.
'The Princess is not in her chamber!' her ladies told him, wringingtheir hands. 'Her bed has not been slept on, and her silken wrapper isstill in its broidered case.'
As the Prince stood bewildered,
the King came up. The remembrance of hislack of love was heavy upon him, and he strove to stifle his remorse byloud threatenings of dire punishment to all if his daughter were notspeedily recovered.
As he stood quietly aside in the midst of the commotion, Prince Fiolaremembered the vision of the lake, and bidding a groom go fetch hima horse, he mounted and rode straightway to the forest. Two pathsstretched out before him; his horse would have taken that on the right,but the Prince urged it along the other, for he thought that he caught aglimpse of his love's white gown at the end of a woodland glade.
It was only the feather of a dove, however, and he pressed on, barelyslackening his pace for hours. Darkness fell, but there was still nosign of Fiorita, and when he reached the borders of the forest, and yethad found no trace of her, his heart was sick at the thought of herperil. He could not stop, so with only the stars to guide him, heessayed to cross the waste that lay beyond, and at dawn was still ridingwearily on. By the following noon both horse and rider were exhausted.The burning sun blazed down on their heads, smiting them as a sword, andthough the Prince had no pity on himself, he grieved that his horseshould suffer. Dismounting, he led it on until he came to a great rock,down the side of which flowed a stream of water. When he and his dumbcompanion had quenched their thirst, he took off its bridle and set itfree, for he knew that the faithful creature could carry him no further.
'Make your way home, good friend,' he said, as he patted its glossymane. 'I cannot return without my Princess, though I fear me 'twill bemany a day before I find her.'
And now began the most toilsome part of his journey. With the landBeyond always before him, he trudged on and on, turning aside fornothing; and so passed another day and night. Now the long road wounduphill; stones blocked his way, and thorns tore his hands and face;still he pressed on, for his love was stronger than hunger and thirst,and pain had no terrors for him. Nevertheless, he had lost all hope,when a turn in the path disclosed a sight which made him for the momentforget his trouble.
A bent old woman, crooked and frail, staggered beneath a load of sticks,and dancing along at either side of her, were two rough boys, who mockedat her lameness, calling her a Witch. The Prince overtook them withrapid strides, and knowing that the power of gentleness is more lastingthan that of anger, he suppressed his wrath as he spoke to them, thoughwithal he reproved them sternly.
'Know you not,' he said, 'that only cowards persecute those who areweaker than themselves? 'Tis a woman whom you call 'mother,' and if onlyfor this, you should hold all women in reverence. Now go--and rememberwhat I have said. Here is something to purchase a gift for your parents.See that you are more worthy of their care.' And with other words to thesame effect, he gave each a silver coin.
Won alike by his kindness and the justice of his rebuke, the boys askedpardon for their rudeness, and scampered off with glowing faces, whilethe old woman blessed the Prince for thus befriending her. Disclaimingher thanks, he lifted her load to his own shoulders, when it immediatelybecame as light as air. The next moment it fell from him altogether; andhe turned in great astonishment to meet her serious gaze.
'_Bel giavone!_' she exclaimed, 'I pray you think me not intrusive, butI know by your voice that your heart is heavy as the load I carriedawhile ago. Tell me your grief, that if the Fates so will, I may in myturn help you.'
'In truth, good mother,' said the Prince, 'no mortal can aid me nowexcept by telling me where I may find the White Princess, whom I seekday and night in anguish, since she is my dear love.'
'Even that can I do!' cried the old woman, straightening her bent figureuntil she stood before him tall and queenly, her squalid rags changinginto flowing robes of purple velvet. 'I am the Witch Lucretia, and myspells are a match for those of the Sorcerer with the Seven Heads. Youhave travelled far from your White Princess, for the Sorcerer lurks inthe forest through which you passed, and Fiorita is his prisoner. No manyet has entered his castle to leave it alive, but I will show you howthis may be done, if you are willing to change your shape and become oneof Earth's humblest creatures.'
The Prince feared nothing so that he might once reach the side ofFiorita, and gladly submitted himself to the enchantments of the Witch.Lucretia lifted the silver wand that was hid in the fold of her gown,and at its touch the Prince became a cricket, just such another as theone which you lately restored to liberty.
'You will find no difficulty now,' she said, 'in entering the Sorcerer'scastle, for the pitfalls he has prepared for man are as nought to theywho traverse the air. And that you may be one of many, and so a matchfor his spells, I will summon my Witches and Fairies to protect you.'
Having muttered an incantation, she blew thrice on an opalescent shellwhich dangled from her waist upon a ruby chain; and troops of Fays andWitches came hurrying down the road. Some were slender and stately, withfaces as fair as dreamland; some were twisted and bent, and some sosmall that a dozen could hide in the cup of a flower. With a second waveof her silver wand, Lucretia transformed them into a myriad crickets.Hailing Fiola as their king, she placed him at their head, and remindinghim solemnly that persistence conquers where force must fail, bade himlead them back to the forest.
In an incredibly short time this aerial army arrived at the castle ofthe Sorcerer with the Seven heads. It stood in the midst of a densethicket, surrounded by a moat, the lurking place of demons with longforked tongues, and eyes that shot evil fires. Undaunted by theirsnarls, the crickets flew over the draw-bridge, and finding a way intothe castle through the close-barred windows, swarmed round theSorcerer's head. A cauldron swung from the domed ceiling, over aquenchless fire, and in this the wretch was even then concocting apotion by which he should overcome Fiorita. Her purity had hithertoprotected her, and though he had bound her body with chains, he couldnot fetter her spirit.
He tickled the Monster's Nose.]
'How dare you disturb me?' he roared, lunging at the crickets vainlywith a long and glittering knife.
Fiola would fain have slain him where he stood, but when, forgetting hisimpotence, he hurled himself forward at the monster, he only tickled hisnose.
'Leave him to us!' cried his cricket friends; and then they began theirwitch-song of '_Cree-cree-cree_.'
Now the Sorcerer having seven heads--Greed, Envy, Spite, Malice,Passion, Jealousy, and Despair, each of which would have instantlysprung forth again had Fiola been able to chop it off--he had naturallyfourteen ears, and these were so extraordinarily sensitive to noise thathe had destroyed all the woodpeckers in the forest that he might nothear their tap-tap on the trees as they searched the bark for insects.You can judge, then, of his disgust when on his refusal to obeyLucretia's command, and break the bonds which held Fiorita, this host ofcrickets swarmed round his head, and filled the air with discord. Eachpitched his voice in a different key, and the din of battle was asnothing to that which now pervaded the castle.
These were the words of the witch-song:
'_Cree-cree-cree-cree_ Set Fiola's Princess free. Sorcerer thou, but Witches we-- Cricket-Witches, from grass and ditches. _Cree-cree-cree-cree!_ Peace thine ears no more shall know Till thou bidst the lady go. _Cree-cree-cree-cree!_ Sorcerer, set the lady free!'[3]
[Footnote 3: Crane's Italian Fairy Tales]
Over and over again they chanted this lay, and every cricket, far andnear, joined in the maddening chorus. They sang until the Sorcerer withthe Seven Heads felt that his senses were leaving him; pallid with rage,he severed the White Princess's chains. By the power of Lucretia, whohad clearly foreseen his discomforture, the moment that the chains fellfrom her Fiorita immediately became a cricket also, and gladly did shefly to the side of the Prince, who greeted her with rapture.
All would now have been well had they straightway left the castle, forLucretia waited outside to restore to them their human form. As Fioritapassed the great cauldron which still swung over the lamp, she could notresist the temptation to lean over and peep inside, and the fumes fromth
e potion being very strong, she straightway fainted, falling into themidst of the blood-red liquid. Before it could wholly cover her, theCricket King seized her wings in his mouth; he carried her thus into theopen air, where she speedily revived. Great was Lucretia's concern,however, when she heard from Fiola what had happened.
'Alas,' she sighed, 'not even I, who am mistress of spells andenchantments, can avert from Fiorita the consequences of her delay.Since the Sorcerer's potion touched her, for six months each year shemust be a cricket, even as now; for the rest, she will be the WhitePrincess, to dwell with you where you will.'
Then Fiorita was sad indeed, for she had lost her longing to see theland Beyond, and desired nothing better than to wed the Prince. But nowthat he knew she loved him, no spell could dampen Fiola's joy.
'While you are a cricket,' he said, 'I will be one too, for so long asyou are beside me--what matters else?' And the Fays and Witches, whoreverence all true love, elected to share their banishment.
And so it was, and is to this present time. For half the year Fiola isthe Cricket King, and Fiorita, more than content, his Queen. But asAscension day comes round, the spell is broken, and they take theiraccustomed places at the Court. It is hard to say when they are thehappier; for love is as much at home in the humblest corner of MotherEarth as it is in a lordly Palace."
Chapter XII
The Favourite of the Fates.
One night there was not a breath of air, and I could not sleep. Itossed this way and that for hours, and directly the birds began totwitter, I put on my things and slipped back the bolt of the grand halldoor. Once outside, it was beautifully fresh and cool, and the clouds inthe sky were like wreaths of pink flowers on a turquoise sea, archedover with gleaming gold. They changed every moment, and while I watchedthem I forgot to look where I was going. When I stopped at last I foundmyself in the middle of the market place, where I had been with Fatherthe day before.
It was empty now, for no one was yet awake but me.
Among the quaint old wooden houses I noticed one that I had not seenbefore; at first it seemed to be indistinct, but the longer I stared atit, the clearer it grew. Over the door of the tiny shop was the figureof a hen cut into the stone, and while I was wondering who had carvedit, the wings fluttered gently toward me. The bird moved its head, andits wings were lifted; it flew to the ground, and a lovely white hen wasat my feet. It looked at me wistfully, and flew away; when I turned tothe little house once again, it was not there. But beside me stood theFairy Godmother.
"Come and sit in the shade," she said, when I asked her what had becomeof the hen, "and I will tell you all about her. She is seekingFuricchia, whom she served so well, not knowing that she is a shadowtoo."
The Enchanted Hen.
"Furicchia," said the Fairy Godmother, "was a very poor woman who owneda hen which an innkeeper greatly coveted. The shape of the bird wasperfect; it had a most melodious voice, and its feathers were glossy andwhite as snow.
'Come now, good dame,' the man cried, persuasively, 'I will give youdouble the market value of your little hen, for I wish to make a presentof her to the widow Ursula, whom I intend to espouse.'
'But the widow might kill and eat her!' said Furicchia, looking lovinglyat the little hen, which she had brought up by hand from a tiny chick.It had slept beneath her best silk 'kerchief, and taken its food fromher lips.
'That is as may be,' he replied. 'Come, Furicchia, I make you a handsomeoffer. Give me the hen, and you shall fare well next feast day.'
But Furicchia would not listen, in spite of the sad fact that hercupboard was as empty as her netted purse. The little hen was dear toher, though as yet it had lain no eggs, and she would not sacrifice herto her needs.
Ere evening came, Coccode was clucking gaily under the kitchen table,and Furicchia found, not one egg, but three, all a rich coffee brown,and polished like porcelain. Having joyfully exchanged one with aneighbour for a dish of broth, she broke the second into it, andprudently saving the third for next day, thankfully made a good meal.When morning came, she found eggs to the number of a round dozen strewnabout her tiny room, and from being almost on the verge of starvation,she had plenty now and to spare. For Coccode, the grateful creature,laid eggs by the score, and not only were they of exquisite flavour andvery large, but it was noticed that if sick folk ate them, theystraightway returned to health.
Furicchia was now a famous egg-wife, and the more eggs she sold, themore eggs Coccode laid. The little hen was both willing and industrious,and loved her kind mistress so dearly that she was never so happy aswhen helping to make her fortune. Her pride in Furicchia's first silkgown was comical to witness; she rustled her wings against its handsomefolds, and clucked so loudly that the neighbours heard, and came to seewhat was the matter.
This silken gown it was that roused the anger of the Signora, a wealthywoman who had much, and knew no better than to want more. Hearing of theprodigious number of eggs which Furicchia supplied, though no one hadever seen her with other than a single hen, she set afoot much scandalconcerning her, ending by declaring her to be an evil Witch. At this,Furicchia's neighbours began to look askance at her; but the eggs wereso good, and so moderate in price, that on second thoughts they decidedto treat the Signora's hints with the contempt which they deserved.
This made the lady still more angry; she resolved to find outFuricchia's secret, and ruin her if she could, so that she might obtainher customers for her own eggs. Coccode was quite aware of what wasgoing on, and before her mistress went out one morning she bade herfetch certain herbs that grew on a corner of barren land, and put theseon the fire in a pot of wine.
'And now, dear mistress,' she continued, when all had been done as shesaid, 'do you go out and trust your luck to Coccode.'
Furicchia had not long been gone, when the Signora's crafty face peepedslyly round the door. Finding the room apparently empty, she hurried in,delighted at such an opportunity for prying. First she peered here, andthen she peered there, ransacking Furicchia's chests, and even turningover the leaves of her holy books, that she might see if an incantationto Witches had been written therein. Finally, she raised the latch ofthe inner chamber, where she had heard Coccode clucking.
'I have found out Furicchia's secret now,' she thought with glee. 'Herlittle white hen is under a spell, and she and it shall be burnt asWitches.'
Coccode was sitting on a pile of eggs that reached almost up to theceiling, and even as she clucked she was laying more. The Signora drewclose to her, and listened with all her ears, for she had distinguishedwords amidst her cluckings, and immediately jumped to the conclusionthat Coccode believed herself to be addressing her mistress. This iswhat she heard:
'Coccode! now there are nine! Bring me quickly the warm red wine. Coccode! take them away Many more for thee will I lay. And thou shalt be a lady grand, As fine as any in the land, And should it happen that any one Drinks of the wine as I have done, Eggs like me she shall surely lay; This is the secret, this is the way, Coccode! Coccode!'[4]
[Footnote 4: Leyland's 'Legends of Florence']
'Aha!' said the Signora joyfully, 'now I have it!' And running back tothe outer room, she lifted the wine off the fire and drank it, everydrop, though it scalded her throat and made her choke. As it coursedthrough her veins she felt a most extraordinary sensation, and hurriedhome as quickly as she could. A meal was laid on the table, but shefound great difficulty in taking her usual place, and could eat nothingbut some brown bread, which she pecked at in a most curious manner. Asthe charm began to work, her legs grew thinner and thinner, and her feetso large that she had to cut off her boots. Next, her brown silk dressbecame a bundle of draggled feathers, while her nose turned into abeak, and her voice into a discordant cluck; in short, she was just ascraggy brown hen, and her friends held up their hands in horror. Eggsshe laid by the score, but before she could sit on them they turned tomice and ran away. So she had nothing for all her trouble; and thoughshe possessed
a handsome house, she could only perch in a barn.
This is what comes of greed and envy, and of meddling with otherpeople's business."
Just at this moment a girl darted out of a doorway opposite, followed byan elderly woman who loudly reproved her for refusing to do her share insome household task. Shrugging her shoulders, she came to a sudden end,as if she knew that her breath was wasted, and the girl disappeared witha peal of laughter.
"She is off to gossip instead of work," said the Fairy Godmotherdisapprovingly. "She will pay for it later, will pretty Ursula, for theFates are not likely to interfere on her behalf as they did for Pepita."
I had to coax her to tell me this story, for she said she had much todo, and could not stay. But when she heard that the very next dayFather and I were leaving Italy, she refused no more. We sat down on thestep of a splendid church, and no one seemed to notice us.
The Favourite of the Fates.
"Troubles rolled off Pepita as water from a duck's back. So lightheartedand full of good humour was she that nought ever seemed to vex her, andno one living had ever heard an unkind word fall from her rosy lips.Even the three grim Fates, who rule over mortal destinies, relaxed theirstern brows as they looked down on her, and smiled indulgently.
Pepita was slender as a swallow, with a warm red flush on her olivecheeks, and dainty hands that looked far too delicate and small for eventhe lighter household tasks. These, indeed, Pepita seldom attempted,singing instead from morn to eve, and charming her mother with softcaresses when she hardened her heart and tried to scold her.
But Pepita could spin. Ah yes, she could spin, and as no other maidenhad ever been known to do since Arachne was changed into a spider.The snowy flax flew from under her fingers as though her distaff wereenchanted; which, indeed, was the case, for the wayward Fates hadbestowed upon her a magic gift, and having given her this, not even theycould take it away from her.
Pepita's mother was often wroth with her, for the dame had much work onher hands, and sighed that her only daughter should give her so littlehelp. Were the maiden sent to wash clothes in the stream, ten chances toone they would go floating down the current while she twisted flowers inher hair. Were she set to make sweet little chestnut cakes, she wouldforget to put a cool green leaf at the bottom of each round baking dish,and when they were taken out of the ashes, behold, they would be allburnt!
'You are a good-for-nothing!' her mother would cry angrily; but this wasnot true, for Pepita could spin.
One feast day, while her mother went to the fair, she was told to watchthe _pentola_, and to stir it carefully if it boiled too fast. It wasmade of rice and good fresh meat, with vegetables from the littlegarden; and it smelt so delicious that Pepita's small nostrils quiveredlike the petals of a rose on a windy day.
'I will taste it to see that all is well,' she murmured, and drawingback the iron pot, she helped herself to a liberal portion.
The _pentola_ was good; Pepita tasted it yet again, for she had been upearly to go to Mass, and had sung herself hungry on the way home. Soonthere was no meat left.
'Ah, what shall I do?' she sighed, 'My mother will scold me terribly,and will tell the Padre that I am greedy.'
She was sighing still when her eyes fell on an old leather shoe whichhad been cast away behind the door. Her face all dimpled with mischief,Pepita soused this under a tap, and threw it into the soup.
'They will but think that the meat is tough!' she cried with a burst oflaughter; but as the shoe fell into the boiling liquid her mothercrossed the threshold.
'What have you done?' demanded she, peering into the pot. '_Madonnamia!_Was ever an honest woman cursed with such a daughter?' And breathing outangry hopes that an Ogre would come and take her, she drove Pepita outof the house.
At that moment a rich young merchant was strolling by, and Pepitaunwittingly rushed into his arms. A thing such as this had neverhappened to him before, and since he scarce knew what to do, he claspedher tightly while he considered. By the time he released her, Pepita'sface was pink as apple blossom, and the tears that sparkled on it werefor all the world like dewdrops on the petals of a flower. Somethingstirred in his breast, and he blushed even more than she; for when a manfalls suddenly in love he knows not where he stands. Looking from one tothe other, the wrath of Pepita's mother suddenly cooled.
Pepita rushed into his Arms.]
'Take her to wife,' she said, 'and you'll not get a bad bargain. True,she is nought in the house, but she can spin. And with all her faultsshe is not a scold.'
'One wants more in a wife than that!' said the merchant shrewdly, thoughthe last of her statements went far with him, since his mother had atongue. Looking into Pepita's eyes, which were heavenly blue, and sweetas an angel's, he lost his last qualm of doubt, and lifted her hand tohis lips. Then he turned once more to the elder woman. 'I have vowed tomy mother I will not wed without her free consent, but if your daughtermeets with her approval, I will gladly do as you say.'
Guido's mother was in her seventieth year, and though she had neverbeheld a face more winning than merry Pepita's, it did not please her,and she gave her mind to finding a task which would prove beyond herpowers.
'The garden paths are green with weeds,' she quavered; 'they have beensadly neglected since Pietro fell ill. Take the hoe, and root them up;leave not a single one.'
'Nay, mother! I seek not a gardener for my wife!' her son protestedhotly, for Pepita's small hands could barely lift the hoe, and he hadset his heart on her.
'Unless the paths be clear of weeds ere the sun sets, I will not givethee my consent,' said the old woman obstinately; and there was nothingleft for Pepita to do but to hoe up the weeds as best she could.
No sooner had Guido's mother ceased watching her from the window, thanPepita whistled gently, and swift at her call came the birds she hadfed with crumbs when the fields were bare. Pointing to the weeds, shemade signs to them to destroy them, and by the time the old mother awokefrom her nap, not one was left behind. This vexed her instead of givingher pleasure, for she did not wish her son to marry, and telling hermaids they might have a holiday, she commanded Pepita to prepare theevening meal.
The maiden was now in much perplexity, for she knew not how to cook, andher experience that morning with the _pentola_ had taught her little.But the Brownies who dwelt behind the hearth, and love to see a fairyoung face bending over the pots and pans, bade her be not discouraged,for they would stand her friends.
Then the nimble little men flew hither and thither, fetching garlic andoil and meat and rice in just the proportions that Guido loved, andadding certain secret flavours of their own until the smell of the brothmade the old woman's mouth water, and she could not but praise Pepita'scooking. When it came to the time to test her skill at spinning, she wascompletely reconciled to her son's choice, and put no obstacles in theway of the wedding.
And now Pepita sang more blithely than ever, for though he was less wellfavoured, and slower of speech than many a young man who had wooed her,she adored her husband. She was as happy as the day was long until,wishing to have the biggest bank account as well as the prettiest wifein the neighbourhood, he took it into his head to turn her talent forspinning to account, and kept her beside her distaff from morn till eve.
'I shall soon, at this rate, be richer even than the notary,' hethought, as he looked delighted at his stores of flax; and Pepitabesought him in vain to give her a little rest, for he could be asobstinate as his mother.
It was now that the Fates interfered on her behalf, though many moreworthy than she are left to shift for themselves.
'She has lost her bloom!' sighed one grim sister.
'Her cheeks are hollow!' observed the second.
'Her songs are sad ones!' said the third with a dreadful frown. And thenthey put their heads together, and formed a plan whereby Guido might beoutwitted.
As he sat in the doorway that evening while Pepita span, denying himselfthe sight of her in order that her work might not be disturbed, th
erecame up the garden path a hideous old hag, who besought him to give heralms.
'Look at me, Signor!' she groaned, lifting her head so that he saw thewrinkled folds that lapped her chin. 'Once I was fair as your Pepita,but I sat so long at my spinning wheel, that all my comeliness left me.'
Guido hastily gave her a coin, and urged her to begone; for he did notwant Pepita to see her, or to hear what she had to say.
Next eve came a second old woman, uglier, if possible, than the last,and bent like some brutish beast. She had the same story to tell him ofbygone loveliness, and Guido sped her down the hill with even more hastethan before.
The next night a third old woman appeared, so dread of aspect that hewas obliged to avert his gaze. Against his wish, he felt himselfconstrained to enquire the cause of her terrible affliction.
'I sat at my wheel, good master,' was the reply, 'until beauty and sightboth left me, and my skin became even as you see.'
Now thoroughly alarmed, he dismissed her quickly with a handful ofcoins, and calling Pepita to him, gazed at her long and searchingly.When the flush that his now unaccustomed touch had brought to her sweetface faded, he saw she was pale and thin. Her mouth drooped sadly, andpurple shadows brooded round her eyes. With a cry of remorse he drew herto his breast, and kissed her tenderly.
'You shall spin no longer, my Pepita,' he said, 'for I would rather haveyou as you are than be rich as Satan himself!'"
* * * * *
And this was the very last story I heard. We started for home nextmorning, and I went to school at the half term--a ripping school wherethere was any amount of cricket, and so many other games that I had notime to think of Fairies.
But some day I'm going to find the Peri, and those other wonderfulSprites and Goblins of which Titania told me when I met her in the woodthat Christmas day.
Printed by W. W. Curtis, Ltd., Cheylesmore Press, Coventry.
Transcriber's note: A few obvious printer's errors were corrected.Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were preserved.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends