A DOUBLE STORY BY GEORGE MACDONALD. NEW YORK: A DOUBLE STORY I. There was a certain country where things used to go rather oddly. For instance, you could never tell whether it was going to rain orhail, or whether or not the milk was going to turn sour. It wasimpossible to say whether the next baby would be a boy, or a girl, or even, after he was a week old, whether he would wakesweet-tempered or cross. In strict accordance with the peculiar nature of this country ofuncertainties, it came to pass one day, that in the midst of ashower of rain that might well be called golden, seeing the sun, shining as it fell, turned all its drops into molten topazes, andevery drop was good for a grain of golden corn, or a yellow cowslip, or a buttercup, or a dandelion at least;--while this splendid rainwas falling, I say, with a musical patter upon the great leaves ofthe horse-chestnuts, which hung like Vandyke collars about the necksof the creamy, red-spotted blossoms, and on the leaves of thesycamores, looking as if they had blood in their veins, and on amultitude of flowers, of which some stood up and boldly held outtheir cups to catch their share, while others cowered down, laughing, under the soft patting blows of the heavy warm drops;--while this lovely rain was washing all the air clean from the motes, and the bad odors, and the poison-seeds that had escaped from theirprisons during the long drought;--while it fell, splashing andsparkling, with a hum, and a rush, and a soft clashing--but stop! Iam stealing, I find, and not that only, but with clumsy handsspoiling what I steal:-- "O Rain! with your dull twofold sound, The clash hard by, and the murmur all round:" --there! take it, Mr. Coleridge;--while, as I was saying, the lovelylittle rivers whose fountains are the clouds, and which cut theirown channels through the air, and make sweet noises rubbing againsttheir banks as they hurry down and down, until at length they arepulled up on a sudden, with a musical plash, in the very heart of anodorous flower, that first gasps and then sighs up a blissful scent, or on the bald head of a stone that never says, Thank you;--whilethe very sheep felt it blessing them, though it could never reachtheir skins through the depth of their long wool, and the veriesthedgehog--I mean the one with the longest spikes--came and spikedhimself out to impale as many of the drops as he could;--while therain was thus falling, and the leaves, and the flowers, and thesheep, and the cattle, and the hedgehog, were all busily receivingthe golden rain, something happened. It was not a great battle, noran earthquake, nor a coronation, but something more important thanall those put together. A BABY-GIRL WAS BORN; and her father was aking; and her mother was a queen; and her uncles and aunts wereprinces and princesses; and her first-cousins were dukes andduchesses; and not one of her second-cousins was less than a marquisor marchioness, or of their third-cousins less than an earl orcountess: and below a countess they did not care to count. So thelittle girl was Somebody; and yet for all that, strange to say, thefirst thing she did was to cry. I told you it was a strange country. As she grew up, everybody about her did his best to convince herthat she was Somebody; and the girl herself was so easily persuadedof it that she quite forgot that anybody had ever told her so, andtook it for a fundamental, innate, primary, first-born, self-evident, necessary, and incontrovertible idea and principle that SHEWAS SOMEBODY. And far be it from me to deny it. I will even go sofar as to assert that in this odd country there was a huge number ofSomebodies. Indeed, it was one of its oddities that every boy andgirl in it, was rather too ready to think he or she was Somebody;and the worst of it was that the princess never thought of therebeing more than one Somebody--and that was herself. Far away to the north in the same country, on the side of a bleakhill, where a horse-chestnut or a sycamore was never seen, wherewere no meadows rich with buttercups, only steep, rough, breezyslopes, covered with dry prickly furze and its flowers of red gold, or moister, softer broom with its flowers of yellow gold, and greatsweeps of purple heather, mixed with bilberries, and crowberries, and cranberries--no, I am all wrong: there was nothing out yet but afew furze-blossoms; the rest were all waiting behind their doorstill they were called; and no full, slow-gliding river withmeadow-sweet along its oozy banks, only a little brook here andthere, that dashed past without a moment to say, "How do youdo?"--there (would you believe it?) while the same cloud that wasdropping down golden rain all about the queen's new baby was dashinghuge fierce handfuls of hail upon the hills, with such force thatthey flew spinning off the rocks and stones, went burrowing in thesheep's wool, stung the cheeks and chin of the shepherd with theirsharp spiteful little blows, and made his dog wink and whine as theybounded off his hard wise head, and long sagacious nose; only, whenthey dropped plump down the chimney, and fell hissing in the littlefire, they caught it then, for the clever little fire soon sent themup the chimney again, a good deal swollen, and harmless enough for awhile, there (what do you think?) among the hailstones, and theheather, and the cold mountain air, another little girl was born, whom the shepherd her father, and the shepherdess her mother, and agood many of her kindred too, thought Somebody. She had not an uncleor an aunt that was less than a shepherd or dairymaid, not a cousin, that was less than a farm-laborer, not a second-cousin that was lessthan a grocer, and they did not count farther. And yet (would youbelieve it?) she too cried the very first thing. It WAS an oddcountry! And, what is still more surprising, the shepherd andshepherdess and the dairymaids and the laborers were not a bit wiserthan the king and the queen and the dukes and the marquises and theearls; for they too, one and all, so constantly taught the littlewoman that she was Somebody, that she also forgot that there were agreat many more Somebodies besides herself in the world. It was, indeed, a peculiar country, very different from ours--sodifferent, that my reader must not be too much surprised when I addthe amazing fact, that most of its inhabitants, instead of enjoyingthe things they had, were always wanting the things they had not, often even the things it was least likely they ever could have. Thegrown men and women being like this, there is no reason to befurther astonished that the Princess Rosamond--the name her parentsgave her because it means Rose of the World--should grow up likethem, wanting every thing she could and every thing she couldn'thave. The things she could have were a great many too many, for herfoolish parents always gave her what they could; but still thereremained a few things they couldn't give her, for they were only acommon king and queen. They could and did give her a lighted candlewhen she cried for it, and managed by much care that she should notburn her fingers or set her frock on fire; but when she cried forthe moon, that they could not give her. They did the worst thingpossible, instead, however; for they pretended to do what they couldnot. They got her a thin disc of brilliantly polished silver, asnear the size of the moon as they could agree upon; and, for a timeshe was delighted. But, unfortunately, one evening she made the discovery that her moonwas a little peculiar, inasmuch as she could not shine in the dark. Her nurse happened to snuff out the candles as she was playing withit; and instantly came a shriek of rage, for her moon had vanished. Presently, through the opening of the curtains, she caught sight ofthe real moon, far away in the sky, and shining quite calmly, as ifshe had been there all the time; and her rage increased to such adegree that if it had not passed off in a fit, I do not know whatmight have come of it. As she grew up it was still the same, with this difference, that notonly must she have every thing, but she got tired of every thingalmost as soon as she had it. There was an accumulation of things inher nursery and schoolroom and bedroom that was perfectly appalling. Her mother's wardrobes were almost useless to her, so packed werethey with things of which she never took any notice. When she wasfive years old, they gave her a splendid gold repeater, so close setwith diamonds and rubies, that the back was just one crust of gems. In one of her little tempers, as they called her hideously uglyrages, she dashed it against the back of the chimney, after which itnever gave a single tick; and some of the diamonds went to theash-pit. As she grew older still, she became fond of animals, not ina way that brought them much pleasure, or herself much satisfaction. When angry, she would beat them, and try to pull them to pieces, andas soon as she became a little used to them, would neglect themaltogether. Then, if they could, they would run away, and she wasfurious. Some white mice, which she had ceased feeding altogether, did so; and soon the palace was swarming with white mice. Their redeyes might be seen glowing, and their white skins gleaming, in everydark corner; but when it came to the king's finding a nest of themin his second-best crown, he was angry and ordered them to bedrowned. The princess heard of it, however, and raised such aclamor, that there they were left until they should run away ofthemselves; and the poor king had to wear his best crown every daytill then. Nothing that was the princess's property, whether shecared for it or not, was to be meddled with. Of course, as she grew, she grew worse; for she never tried to growbetter. She became more and more peevish and fretful everyday--dissatisfied not only with what she had, but with all that wasaround her, and constantly wishing things in general to bedifferent. She found fault with every thing and everybody, and allthat happened, and grew more and more disagreeable to every one whohad to do with her. At last, when she had nearly killed her nurse, and had all but succeeded in hanging herself, and was miserable frommorning to night, her parents thought it time to do something. A long way from the palace, in the heart of a deep wood ofpine-trees, lived a wise woman. In some countries she would havebeen called a witch; but that would have been a mistake, for shenever did any thing wicked, and had more power than any witch couldhave. As her fame was spread through all the country, the king heardof her; and, thinking she might perhaps be able to suggestsomething, sent for her. In the dead of the night, lest the princessshould know it, the king's messenger brought into the palace a tallwoman, muffled from head to foot in a cloak of black cloth. In thepresence of both their Majesties, the king, to do her honor, requested her to sit; but she declined, and stood waiting to hearwhat they had to say. Nor had she to wait long, for almost instantlythey began to tell her the dreadful trouble they were in with theironly child; first the king talking, then the queen interposing withsome yet more dreadful fact, and at times both letting out a torrentof words together, so anxious were they to show the wise woman thattheir perplexity was real, and their daughter a very terrible one. For a long while there appeared no sign of approaching pause. Butthe wise woman stood patiently folded in her black cloak, andlistened without word or motion. At length silence fell; for theyhad talked themselves tired, and could not think of any thing moreto add to the list of their child's enormities. After a minute, the wise woman unfolded her arms; and her cloakdropping open in front, disclosed a garment made of a strange stuff, which an old poet who knew her well has thus described:-- "All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride, That seemd like silke and silver woven neare; But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare. " "How very badly you have treated her!" said the wise woman. "Poorchild!" "Treated her badly?" gasped the king. "She is a very wicked child, " said the queen; and both glared withindignation. "Yes, indeed!" returned the wise woman. "She is very naughty indeed, and that she must be made to feel; but it is half your fault too. " "What!" stammered the king. "Haven't we given her every mortal thingshe wanted?" "Surely, " said the wise woman: "what else could have all but killedher? You should have given her a few things of the other sort. Butyou are far too dull to understand me. " "You are very polite, " remarked the king, with royal sarcasm on histhin, straight lips. The wise woman made no answer beyond a deep sigh; and the king andqueen sat silent also in their anger, glaring at the wise woman. Thesilence lasted again for a minute, and then the wise woman foldedher cloak around her, and her shining garment vanished like the moonwhen a great cloud comes over her. Yet another minute passed and thesilence endured, for the smouldering wrath of the king and queenchoked the channels of their speech. Then the wise woman turned herback on them, and so stood. At this, the rage of the king brokeforth; and he cried to the queen, stammering in his fierceness, -- "How should such an old hag as that teach Rosamond good manners? Sheknows nothing of them herself! Look how she stands!--actually withher back to us. " At the word the wise woman walked from the room. The great foldingdoors fell to behind her; and the same moment the king and queenwere quarrelling like apes as to which of them was to blame for herdeparture. Before their altercation was over, for it lasted till theearly morning, in rushed Rosamond, clutching in her hand a poorlittle white rabbit, of which she was very fond, and from which, only because it would not come to her when she called it, she waspulling handfuls of fur in the attempt to tear the squealing, pink-eared, red-eyed thing to pieces. "Rosa, RosaMOND!" cried the queen; whereupon Rosamond threw therabbit in her mother's face. The king started up in a fury, and ranto seize her. She darted shrieking from the room. The king rushedafter her; but, to his amazement, she was nowhere to be seen: thehuge hall was empty. --No: just outside the door, close to thethreshold, with her back to it, sat the figure of the wise woman, muffled in her dark cloak, with her head bowed over her knees. Asthe king stood looking at her, she rose slowly, crossed the hall, and walked away down the marble staircase. The king called to her;but she never turned her head, or gave the least sign that she heardhim. So quietly did she pass down the wide marble stair, that theking was all but persuaded he had seen only a shadow gliding acrossthe white steps. For the princess, she was nowhere to be found. The queen went intohysterics; and the rabbit ran away. The king sent out messengers inevery direction, but in vain. In a short time the palace was quiet--as quiet as it used to bebefore the princess was born. The king and queen cried a little nowand then, for the hearts of parents were in that country strangelyfashioned; and yet I am afraid the first movement of those veryhearts would have been a jump of terror if the ears above them hadheard the voice of Rosamond in one of the corridors. As for the restof the household, they could not have made up a single tear amongstthem. They thought, whatever it might be for the princess, it was, for every one else, the best thing that could have happened; and asto what had become of her, if their heads were puzzled, their heartstook no interest in the question. The lord-chancellor alone had anidea about it, but he was far too wise to utter it. II. The fact, as is plain, was, that the princess had disappeared in thefolds of the wise woman's cloak. When she rushed from the room, thewise woman caught her to her bosom and flung the black garmentaround her. The princess struggled wildly, for she was in fierceterror, and screamed as loud as choking fright would permit her; buther father, standing in the door, and looking down upon the wisewoman, saw never a movement of the cloak, so tight was she held byher captor. He was indeed aware of a most angry crying, whichreminded him of his daughter; but it sounded to him so far away, that he took it for the passion of some child in the street, outsidethe palace-gates. Hence, unchallenged, the wise woman carried theprincess down the marble stairs, out at the palace-door, down agreat flight of steps outside, across a paved court, through thebrazen gates, along half-roused streets where people were openingtheir shops, through the huge gates of the city, and out into thewide road, vanishing northwards; the princess struggling andscreaming all the time, and the wise woman holding her tight. Whenat length she was too tired to struggle or scream any more, the wisewoman unfolded her cloak, and set her down; and the princess saw thelight and opened her swollen eyelids. There was nothing in sightthat she had ever seen before. City and palace had disappeared. Theywere upon a wide road going straight on, with a ditch on each sideof it, that behind them widened into the great moat surrounding thecity. She cast up a terrified look into the wise woman's face, thatgazed down upon her gravely and kindly. Now the princess did not inthe least understand kindness. She always took it for a sign eitherof partiality or fear. So when the wise woman looked kindly uponher, she rushed at her, butting with her head like a ram: but thefolds of the cloak had closed around the wise woman; and, when theprincess ran against it, she found it hard as the cloak of a bronzestatue, and fell back upon the road with a great bruise on her head. The wise woman lifted her again, and put her once more under thecloak, where she fell asleep, and where she awoke again only to findthat she was still being carried on and on. When at length the wise woman again stopped and set her down, shesaw around her a bright moonlit night, on a wide heath, solitary andhouseless. Here she felt more frightened than before; nor was herterror assuaged when, looking up, she saw a stern, immovablecountenance, with cold eyes fixedly regarding her. All she knew ofthe world being derived from nursery-tales, she concluded that thewise woman was an ogress, carrying her home to eat her. I have already said that the princess was, at this time of her life, such a low-minded creature, that severity had greater influence overher than kindness. She understood terror better far than tenderness. When the wise woman looked at her thus, she fell on her knees, andheld up her hands to her, crying, -- "Oh, don't eat me! don't eat me!" Now this being the best SHE could do, it was a sign she was a lowcreature. Think of it--to kick at kindness, and kneel from terror. But the sternness on the face of the wise woman came from the sameheart and the same feeling as the kindness that had shone from itbefore. The only thing that could save the princess from herhatefulness, was that she should be made to mind somebody else thanher own miserable Somebody. Without saying a word, the wise woman reached down her hand, tookone of Rosamond's, and, lifting her to her feet, led her alongthrough the moonlight. Every now and then a gush of obstinacy wouldwell up in the heart of the princess, and she would give a greatill-tempered tug, and pull her hand away; but then the wise womanwould gaze down upon her with such a look, that she instantly soughtagain the hand she had rejected, in pure terror lest she should beeaten upon the spot. And so they would walk on again; and when thewind blew the folds of the cloak against the princess, she foundthem soft as her mother's camel-hair shawl. After a little while the wise woman began to sing to her, and theprincess could not help listening; for the soft wind amongst the lowdry bushes of the heath, the rustle of their own steps, and thetrailing of the wise woman's cloak, were the only sounds beside. And this is the song she sang:-- Out in the cold, With a thin-worn fold Of withered gold Around her rolled, Hangs in the air the weary moon. She is old, old, old; And her bones all cold, And her tales all told, And her things all sold, And she has no breath to croon. Like a castaway clout, She is quite shut out! She might call and shout, But no one about Would ever call back, "Who's there?" There is never a hut, Not a door to shut, Not a footpath or rut, Long road or short cut, Leading to anywhere! She is all alone Like a dog-picked bone, The poor old crone! She fain would groan, But she cannot find the breath. She once had a fire; But she built it no higher, And only sat nigher Till she saw it expire; And now she is cold as death. She never will smile All the lonesome while. Oh the mile after mile, And never a stile! And never a tree or a stone! She has not a tear: Afar and anear It is all so drear, But she does not care, Her heart is as dry as a bone. None to come near her! No one to cheer her! No one to jeer her! No one to hear her! Not a thing to lift and hold! She is always awake, But her heart will not break: She can only quake, Shiver, and shake: The old woman is very cold. As strange as the song, was the crooning wailing tune that the wisewoman sung. At the first note almost, you would have thought shewanted to frighten the princess; and so indeed she did. For whenpeople WILL be naughty, they have to be frightened, and they are notexpected to like it. The princess grew angry, pulled her hand away, and cried, -- "YOU are the ugly old woman. I hate you!" Therewith she stood still, expecting the wise woman to stop also, perhaps coax her to go on: if she did, she was determined not tomove a step. But the wise woman never even looked about: she keptwalking on steadily, the same space as before. Little Obstinatethought for certain she would turn; for she regarded herself as muchtoo precious to be left behind. But on and on the wise woman went, until she had vanished away in the dim moonlight. Then all at oncethe princess perceived that she was left alone with the moon, looking down on her from the height of her loneliness. She washorribly frightened, and began to run after the wise woman, callingaloud. But the song she had just heard came back to the sound of herown running feet, -- All all alone, Like a dog-picked bone! and again, -- She might call and shout, And no one about Would ever call back, "Who's there?" and she screamed as she ran. How she wished she knew the old woman'sname, that she might call it after her through the moonlight! But the wise woman had, in truth, heard the first sound of herrunning feet, and stopped and turned, waiting. What with running andcrying, however, and a fall or two as she ran, the princess neversaw her until she fell right into her arms--and the same moment intoa fresh rage; for as soon as any trouble was over the princess wasalways ready to begin another. The wise woman therefore pushed heraway, and walked on; while the princess ran scolding and stormingafter her. She had to run till, from very fatigue, her rudenessceased. Her heart gave way; she burst into tears, and ran onsilently weeping. A minute more and the wise woman stooped, and lifting her in herarms, folded her cloak around her. Instantly she fell asleep, andslept as soft and as soundly as if she had been in her own bed. Sheslept till the moon went down; she slept till the sun rose up; sheslept till he climbed the topmost sky; she slept till he went downagain, and the poor old moon came peaking and peering out once more:and all that time the wise woman went walking on and on very fast. And now they had reached a spot where a few fir-trees came to meetthem through the moonlight. At the same time the princess awaked, and popping her head outbetween the folds of the wise woman's cloak--a very ugly littleowlet she looked--saw that they were entering the wood. Now there issomething awful about every wood, especially in the moonlight; andperhaps a fir-wood is more awful than other woods. For one thing, itlets a little more light through, rendering the darkness a littlemore visible, as it were; and then the trees go stretching away uptowards the moon, and look as if they cared nothing about thecreatures below them--not like the broad trees with soft wide leavesthat, in the darkness even, look sheltering. So the princess is notto be blamed that she was very much frightened. She is hardly to beblamed either that, assured the wise woman was an ogress carryingher to her castle to eat her up, she began again to kick and screamviolently, as those of my readers who are of the same sort asherself will consider the right and natural thing to do. The wrongin her was this--that she had led such a bad life, that she did notknow a good woman when she saw her; took her for one like herself, even after she had slept in her arms. Immediately the wise woman set her down, and, walking on, within afew paces vanished among the trees. Then the cries of the princessrent the air, but the fir-trees never heeded her; not one of theirhard little needles gave a single shiver for all the noise she made. But there were creatures in the forest who were soon quite as muchinterested in her cries as the fir-trees were indifferent to them. They began to hearken and howl and snuff about, and run hither andthither, and grin with their white teeth, and light up the greenlamps in their eyes. In a minute or two a whole army of wolves andhyenas were rushing from all quarters through the pillar like stemsof the fir-trees, to the place where she stood calling them, withoutknowing it. The noise she made herself, however, prevented her fromhearing either their howls or the soft pattering of their manytrampling feet as they bounded over the fallen fir needles andcones. One huge old wolf had outsped the rest--not that he could runfaster, but that from experience he could more exactly judge whencethe cries came, and as he shot through the wood, she caught sight atlast of his lamping eyes coming swiftly nearer and nearer. Terrorsilenced her. She stood with her mouth open, as if she were going toeat the wolf, but she had no breath to scream with, and her tonguecurled up in her mouth like a withered and frozen leaf. She could donothing but stare at the coming monster. And now he was taking a fewshorter bounds, measuring the distance for the one final leap thatshould bring him upon her, when out stepped the wise woman frombehind the very tree by which she had set the princess down, caughtthe wolf by the throat half-way in his last spring, shook him once, and threw him from her dead. Then she turned towards the princess, who flung herself into her arms, and was instantly lapped in thefolds of her cloak. But now the huge army of wolves and hyenas had rushed like a seaaround them, whose waves leaped with hoarse roar and hollow yell upagainst the wise woman. But she, like a strong stately vessel, movedunhurt through the midst of them. Ever as they leaped against hercloak, they dropped and slunk away back through the crowd. Othersever succeeded, and ever in their turn fell, and drew backconfounded. For some time she walked on attended and assailed on allsides by the howling pack. Suddenly they turned and swept away, vanishing in the depths of the forest. She neither slackened norhastened her step, but went walking on as before. In a little while she unfolded her cloak, and let the princess lookout. The firs had ceased; and they were on a lofty height ofmoorland, stony and bare and dry, with tufts of heather and a fewsmall plants here and there. About the heath, on every side, lay theforest, looking in the moonlight like a cloud; and above the forest, like the shaven crown of a monk, rose the bare moor over which theywere walking. Presently, a little way in front of them, the princessespied a whitewashed cottage, gleaming in the moon. As they camenearer, she saw that the roof was covered with thatch, over whichthe moss had grown green. It was a very simple, humble place, not inthe least terrible to look at, and yet, as soon as she saw it, herfear again awoke, and always, as soon as her fear awoke, the trustof the princess fell into a dead sleep. Foolish and useless as shemight by this time have known it, she once more began kicking andscreaming, whereupon, yet once more, the wise woman set her down onthe heath, a few yards from the back of the cottage, and sayingonly, "No one ever gets into my house who does not knock at thedoor, and ask to come in, " disappeared round the corner of thecottage, leaving the princess alone with the moon--two white facesin the cone of the night. III. The moon stared at the princess, and the princess stared at themoon; but the moon had the best of it, and the princess began tocry. And now the question was between the moon and the cottage. Theprincess thought she knew the worst of the moon, and she knewnothing at all about the cottage, therefore she would stay with themoon. Strange, was it not, that she should have been so long withthe wise woman, and yet know NOTHING about that cottage? As for themoon, she did not by any means know the worst of her, or even, that, if she were to fall asleep where she could find her, the old witchwould certainly do her best to twist her face. But she had scarcely sat a moment longer before she was assailed byall sorts of fresh fears. First of all, the soft wind blowing gentlythrough the dry stalks of the heather and its thousands of littlebells raised a sweet rustling, which the princess took for thehissing of serpents, for you know she had been naughty for so longthat she could not in a great many things tell the good from thebad. Then nobody could deny that there, all round about the heath, like a ring of darkness, lay the gloomy fir-wood, and the princessknew what it was full of, and every now and then she thought sheheard the howling of its wolves and hyenas. And who could tell butsome of them might break from their covert and sweep like a shadowacross the heath? Indeed, it was not once nor twice that for amoment she was fully persuaded she saw a great beast coming leapingand bounding through the moonlight to have her all to himself. Shedid not know that not a single evil creature dared set foot on thatheath, or that, if one should do so, it would that instant wither upand cease. If an army of them had rushed to invade it, it would havemelted away on the edge of it, and ceased like a dying wave. --Sheeven imagined that the moon was slowly coming nearer and nearer downthe sky to take her and freeze her to death in her arms. The wisewoman, too, she felt sure, although her cottage looked asleep, waswatching her at some little window. In this, however, she would havebeen quite right, if she had only imagined enough--namely, that thewise woman was watching OVER her from the little window. But afterall, somehow, the thought of the wise woman was less frightful thanthat of any of her other terrors, and at length she began to wonderwhether it the moonlight to have her all to himself. She did notknow that not a single evil creature dared set foot on that heath, or that, if one should do so, it would that instant wither up andcease. If an army of them had rushed to invade it, it would havemelted away on the edge of it, and ceased like a dying wave. --Sheeven imagined that the moon was slowly coming nearer and nearer downthe sky to take her and freeze her to death in her arms. The wisewoman, too, she felt sure, although her cottage looked asleep, waswatching her at some little window. In this, however, she would havebeen quite right, if she had only imagined enough--namely, that thewise woman was watching OVER her from the little window. But afterall, somehow, the thought of the wise woman was less frightful thanthat of any of her other terrors, and at length she began to wonderwhether it her sadly through her gay silken slippers. She threwherself on the heath, which came up to the walls of the cottage onevery side, and roared and screamed with rage. Suddenly, however, she remembered how her screaming had brought the horde of wolves andhyenas about her in the forest, and, ceasing at once, lay still, gazing yet again at the moon. And then came the thought of herparents in the palace at home. In her mind's eye she saw her mothersitting at her embroidery with the tears dropping upon it, and herfather staring into the fire as if he were looking for her in itsglowing caverns. It is true that if they had both been in tears byher side because of her naughtiness, she would not have cared astraw; but now her own forlorn condition somehow helped her tounderstand their grief at having lost her, and not only a greatlonging to be back in her comfortable home, but a feeble flutter ofgenuine love for her parents awoke in her heart as well, and sheburst into real tears--soft, mournful tears--very different fromthose of rage and disappointment to which she was so much used. Andanother very remarkable thing was that the moment she began to loveher father and mother, she began to wish to see the wise womanagain. The idea of her being an ogress vanished utterly, and shethought of her only as one to take her in from the moon, and theloneliness, and the terrors of the forest-haunted heath, and hideher in a cottage with not even a door for the horrid wolves to howlagainst. But the old woman--as the princess called her, not knowing that herreal name was the Wise Woman--had told her that she must knock atthe door: how was she to do that when there was no door? But againshe bethought herself--that, if she could not do all she was told, she could, at least, do a part of it: if she could not knock at thedoor, she could at least knock--say on the wall, for there wasnothing else to knock upon--and perhaps the old woman would hearher, and lift her in by some window. Thereupon, she rose at once toher feet, and picking up a stone, began to knock on the wall withit. A loud noise was the result, and she found she was knocking onthe very door itself. For a moment she feared the old woman would beoffended, but the next, there came a voice, saying, "Who is there?" The princess answered, "Please, old woman, I did not mean to knock so loud. " To this there came no reply. Then the princess knocked again, this time with her knuckles, andthe voice came again, saying, "Who is there?" And the princess answered, "Rosamond. " Then a second time there was silence. But the princess soon venturedto knock a third time. "What do you want?" said the voice. "Oh, please, let me in!" said the princess. "The moon will keep staring at me; and I hear the wolves in thewood. " Then the door opened, and the princess entered. She looked allaround, but saw nothing of the wise woman. It was a single bare little room, with a white deal table, and a fewold wooden chairs, a fire of fir-wood on the hearth, the smoke ofwhich smelt sweet, and a patch of thick-growing heath in onecorner. Poor as it was, compared to the grand place Rosamond hadleft, she felt no little satisfaction as she shut the door, andlooked around her. And what with the sufferings and terrors she hadleft outside, the new kind of tears she had shed, the love she hadbegun to feel for her parents, and the trust she had begun to placein the wise woman, it seemed to her as if her soul had grown largerof a sudden, and she had left the days of her childishness andnaughtiness far behind her. People are so ready to think themselveschanged when it is only their mood that is changed! Those who aregood-tempered because it is a fine day, will be ill-tempered when itrains: their selves are just the same both days; only in the onecase, the fine weather has got into them, in the other the rainy. Rosamond, as she sat warming herself by the glow of the peat-fire, turning over in her mind all that had passed, and feeling howpleasant the change in her feelings was, began by degrees to thinkhow very good she had grown, and how very good she was to have growngood, and how extremely good she must always have been that she wasable to grow so very good as she now felt she had grown; and shebecame so absorbed in her self-admiration as never to notice eitherthat the fire was dying, or that a heap of fir-cones lay in a cornernear it. Suddenly, a great wind came roaring down the chimney, andscattered the ashes about the floor; a tremendous rain followed, andfell hissing on the embers; the moon was swallowed up, and there wasdarkness all about her. Then a flash of lightning, followed by apeal of thunder, so terrified the princess, that she cried aloud forthe old woman, but there came no answer to her cry. Then in her terror the princess grew angry, and saying to herself, "She must be somewhere in the place, else who was there to open thedoor to me?" began to shout and yell, and call the wise woman allthe bad names she had been in the habit of throwing at her nurses. But there came not a single sound in reply. Strange to say, the princess never thought of telling herself nowhow naughty she was, though that would surely have been reasonable. On the contrary, she thought she had a perfect right to be angry, for was she not most desperately ill used--and a princess too? Butthe wind howled on, and the rain kept pouring down the chimney, andevery now and then the lightning burst out, and the thunder rushedafter it, as if the great lumbering sound could ever think to catchup with the swift light! At length the princess had again grown so angry, frightened, andmiserable, all together, that she jumped up and hurried about thecottage with outstretched arms, trying to find the wise woman. Butbeing in a bad temper always makes people stupid, and presently shestruck her forehead such a blow against something--she thoughtherself it felt like the old woman's cloak--that she fell back--noton the floor, though, but on the patch of heather, which felt assoft and pleasant as any bed in the palace. There, worn out withweeping and rage, she soon fell fast asleep. She dreamed that she was the old cold woman up in the sky, with nohome and no friends, and no nothing at all, not even a pocket;wandering, wandering forever, over a desert of blue sand, never toget to anywhere, and never to lie down or die. It was no usestopping to look about her, for what had she to do but forever lookabout her as she went on and on and on--never seeing any thing, andnever expecting to see any thing! The only shadow of a hope she hadwas, that she might by slow degrees grow thinner and thinner, untilat last she wore away to nothing at all; only alas! she could notdetect the least sign that she had yet begun to grow thinner. Thehopelessness grew at length so unendurable that she woke with astart. Seeing the face of the wise woman bending over her, she threwher arms around her neck and held up her mouth to be kissed. And thekiss of the wise woman was like the rose-gardens of Damascus. IV. The wise woman lifted her tenderly, and washed and dressed her farmore carefully than even her nurse. Then she set her down by thefire, and prepared her breakfast. The princess was very hungry, andthe bread and milk as good as it could be, so that she thought shehad never in her life eaten any thing nicer. Nevertheless, as soonas she began to have enough, she said to herself, -- "Ha! I see how it is! The old woman wants to fatten me! That is whyshe gives me such nice creamy milk. She doesn't kill me now becauseshe's going to kill me then! She IS an ogress, after all!" Thereupon she laid down her spoon, and would not eat anothermouthful--only followed the basin with longing looks, as the wisewoman carried it away. When she stopped eating, her hostess knew exactly what she wasthinking; but it was one thing to understand the princess, and quiteanother to make the princess understand her: that would requiretime. For the present she took no notice, but went about the affairsof the house, sweeping the floor, brushing down the cobwebs, cleaning the hearth, dusting the table and chairs, and watering thebed to keep it fresh and alive--for she never had more than oneguest at a time, and never would allow that guest to go to sleepupon any thing that had no life in it All the time she was thusbusied, she spoke not a word to the princess, which, with theprincess, went to confirm her notion of her purposes. But whatevershe might have said would have been only perverted by the princessinto yet stronger proof of her evil designs, for a fancy in her ownhead would outweigh any multitude of facts in another's. She keptstaring at the fire, and never looked round to see what the wisewoman might be doing. By and by she came close up to the back of her chair, and said, "Rosamond!" But the princess had fallen into one of her sulky moods, and shutherself up with her own ugly Somebody; so she never looked round oreven answered the wise woman. "Rosamond, " she repeated, "I am going out. If you are a good girl, that is, if you do as I tell you, I will carry you back to yourfather and mother the moment I return. " The princess did not take the least notice. "Look at me, Rosamond, " said the wise woman. But Rosamond never moved--never even shrugged her shoulders--perhapsbecause they were already up to her ears, and could go no farther. "I want to help you to do what I tell you, " said the wise woman. "Look at me. " Still Rosamond was motionless and silent, saying only to herself, "I know what she's after! She wants to show me her horrid teeth. ButI won't look. I'm not going to be frightened out of my senses toplease her. " "You had better look, Rosamond. Have you forgotten how you kissed methis morning?" But Rosamond now regarded that little throb of affection as amomentary weakness into which the deceitful ogress had betrayed her, and almost despised herself for it. She was one of those who themore they are coaxed are the more disagreeable. For such, the wisewoman had an awful punishment, but she remembered that the princesshad been very ill brought up, and therefore wished to try her withall gentleness first. She stood silent for a moment, to see what effect her words mighthave. But Rosamond only said to herself, -- "She wants to fatten and eat me. " And it was such a little while since she had looked into the wisewoman's loving eyes, thrown her arms round her neck, and kissed her! "Well, " said the wise woman gently, after pausing as long as itseemed possible she might bethink herself, "I must tell you thenwithout; only whoever listens with her back turned, listens buthalf, and gets but half the help. " "She wants to fatten me, " said the princess. "You must keep the cottage tidy while I am out. When I come back, Imust see the fire bright, the hearth swept, and the kettle boiling;no dust on the table or chairs, the windows clear, the floor clean, and the heather in blossom--which last comes of sprinkling it withwater three times a day. When you are hungry, put your hand intothat hole in the wall, and you will find a meal. " "She wants to fatten me, " said the princess. "But on no account leave the house till I come back, " continued thewise woman, "or you will grievously repent it. Remember what youhave already gone through to reach it. Dangers lie all around thiscottage of mine; but inside, it is the safest place--in fact theonly quite safe place in all the country. " "She means to eat me, " said the princess, "and therefore wants tofrighten me from running away. " She heard the voice no more. Then, suddenly startled at the thoughtof being alone, she looked hastily over her shoulder. The cottagewas indeed empty of all visible life. It was soundless, too: therewas not even a ticking clock or a flapping flame. The fire burnedstill and smouldering-wise; but it was all the company she had, andshe turned again to stare into it. Soon she began to grow weary of having nothing to do. Then sheremembered that the old woman, as she called her, had told her tokeep the house tidy. "The miserable little pig-sty!" she said. "Where's the use ofkeeping such a hovel clean!" But in truth she would have been glad of the employment, only justbecause she had been told to do it, she was unwilling; for there AREpeople--however unlikely it may seem--who object to doing a thingfor no other reason than that it is required of them. "I am a princess, " she said, "and it is very improper to ask me todo such a thing. " She might have judged it quite as suitable for a princess to sweepaway the dust as to sit the centre of a world of dirt. But justbecause she ought, she wouldn't. Perhaps she feared that if she gavein to doing her duty once, she might have to do it always--whichwas true enough--for that was the very thing for which she had beenspecially born. Unable, however, to feel quite comfortable in the resolve to neglectit, she said to herself, "I'm sure there's time enough for such anasty job as that!" and sat on, watching the fire as it burned away, the glowing red casting off white flakes, and sinking lower andlower on the hearth. By and by, merely for want of something to do, she would see whatthe old woman had left for her in the hole of the wall. But when sheput in her hand she found nothing there, except the dust which sheought by this time to have wiped away. Never reflecting that thewise woman had told her she would find food there WHEN SHE WASHUNGRY, she flew into one of her furies, calling her a cheat, and athief, and a liar, and an ugly old witch, and an ogress, and I donot know how many wicked names besides. She raged until she wasquite exhausted, and then fell fast asleep on her chair. When sheawoke the fire was out. By this time she was hungry; but without looking in the hole, shebegan again to storm at the wise woman, in which labor she would nodoubt have once more exhausted herself, had not something whitecaught her eye: it was the corner of a napkin hanging from the holein the wall. She bounded to it, and there was a dinner for her ofsomething strangely good--one of her favorite dishes, only betterthan she had ever tasted it before. This might surely have at leastchanged her mood towards the wise woman; but she only grumbled toherself that it was as it ought to be, ate up the food, and lay downon the bed, never thinking of fire, or dust, or water for theheather. The wind began to moan about the cottage, and grew louder andlouder, till a great gust came down the chimney, and again scatteredthe white ashes all over the place. But the princess was by thistime fast asleep, and never woke till the wind had sunk to silence. One of the consequences, however, of sleeping when one ought to beawake is waking when one ought to be asleep; and the princess awokein the black midnight, and found enough to keep her awake. Foralthough the wind had fallen, there was a far more terrible howlingthan that of the wildest wind all about the cottage. Nor was thehowling all; the air was full of strange cries; and everywhere sheheard the noise of claws scratching against the house, which seemedall doors and windows, so crowded were the sounds, and from so manydirections. All the night long she lay half swooning, yet listeningto the hideous noises. But with the first glimmer of morning theyceased. Then she said to herself, "How fortunate it was that I woke! Theywould have eaten me up if I had been asleep. " The miserable littlewretch actually talked as if she had kept them out! If she had doneher work in the day, she would have slept through the terrors of thedarkness, and awaked fearless; whereas now, she had in thestorehouse of her heart a whole harvest of agonies, reaped from thedun fields of the night! They were neither wolves nor hyenas which had caused her suchdismay, but creatures of the air, more frightful still, which, assoon as the smoke of the burning fir-wood ceased to spread itselfabroad, and the sun was a sufficient distance down the sky, and thelone cold woman was out, came flying and howling about the cottage, trying to get in at every door and window. Down the chimney theywould have got, but that at the heart of the fire there always lay acertain fir-cone, which looked like solid gold red-hot, and which, although it might easily get covered up with ashes, so as to bequite invisible, was continually in a glow fit to kindle all thefir-cones in the world; this it was which had kept the horriblebirds--some say they have a claw at the tip of everywing-feather--from tearing the poor naughty princess to pieces, andgobbling her up. When she rose and looked about her, she was dismayed to see what astate the cottage was in. The fire was out, and the windows were alldim with the wings and claws of the dirty birds, while the bed fromwhich she had just risen was brown and withered, and half its purplebells had fallen. But she consoled herself that she could set all torights in a few minutes--only she must breakfast first. And, sureenough, there was a basin of the delicious bread and milk ready forher in the hole of the wall! After she had eaten it, she felt comfortable, and sat for a longtime building castles in the air--till she was actually hungryagain, without having done an atom of work. She ate again, and wasidle again, and ate again. Then it grew dark, and she went tremblingto bed, for now she remembered the horrors of the last night. Thistime she never slept at all, but spent the long hours in grievousterror, for the noises were worse than before. She vowed she wouldnot pass another night in such a hateful haunted old shed for allthe ugly women, witches, and ogresses in the wide world. In themorning, however, she fell asleep, and slept late. Breakfast was of course her first thought, after which she could notavoid that of work. It made her very miserable, but she feared theconsequences of being found with it undone. A few minutes beforenoon, she actually got up, took her pinafore for a duster, andproceeded to dust the table. But the wood-ashes flew about so, thatit seemed useless to attempt getting rid of them, and she sat downagain to think what was to be done. But there is very little indeedto be done when we will not do that which we have to do. Her first thought now was to run away at once while the sun washigh, and get through the forest before night came on. She fanciedshe could easily go back the way she had come, and get home to herfather's palace. But not the most experienced traveller in the worldcan ever go back the way the wise woman has brought him. She got up and went to the door. It was locked! What could the oldwoman have meant by telling her not to leave the cottage? She wasindignant. The wise woman had meant to make it difficult, but not impossible. Before the princess, however, could find the way out, she heard ahand at the door, and darted in terror behind it. The wise womanopened it, and, leaving it open, walked straight to the hearth. Rosamond immediately slid out, ran a little way, and then laidherself down in the long heather. V. The wise woman walked straight up to the hearth, looked at the fire, looked at the bed, glanced round the room, and went up to the table. When she saw the one streak in the thick dust which the princess hadleft there, a smile, half sad, half pleased, like the sun peepingthrough a cloud on a rainy day in spring, gleamed over her face. Shewent at once to the door, and called in a loud voice, "Rosamond, come to me. " All the wolves and hyenas, fast asleep in the wood, heard her voice, and shivered in their dreams. No wonder then that the princesstrembled, and found herself compelled, she could not understand how, to obey the summons. She rose, like the guilty thing she felt, forsook of herself the hiding-place she had chosen, and walkedslowly back to the cottage she had left full of the signs of hershame. When she entered, she saw the wise woman on her knees, building up the fire with fir-cones. Already the flame was climbingthrough the heap in all directions, crackling gently, and sending asweet aromatic odor through the dusty cottage. "That is my part of the work, " she said, rising. "Now you do yours. But first let me remind you that if you had not put it off, youwould have found it not only far easier, but by and by quitepleasant work, much more pleasant than you can imagine now; norwould you have found the time go wearily: you would neither haveslept in the day and let the fire out, nor waked at night and heardthe howling of the beast-birds. More than all, you would have beenglad to see me when I came back; and would have leaped into my armsinstead of standing there, looking so ugly and foolish. " As she spoke, suddenly she held up before the princess a tinymirror, so clear that nobody looking into it could tell what it wasmade of, or even see it at all--only the thing reflected in it. Rosamond saw a child with dirty fat cheeks, greedy mouth, cowardlyeyes--which, not daring to look forward, seemed trying to hidebehind an impertinent nose--stooping shoulders, tangled hair, tattered clothes, and smears and stains everywhere. That was whatshe had made herself. And to tell the truth, she was shocked at thesight, and immediately began, in her dirty heart, to lay the blameon the wise woman, because she had taken her away from her nursesand her fine clothes; while all the time she knew well enough that, close by the heather-bed, was the loveliest little well, just bigenough to wash in, the water of which was always springing freshfrom the ground, and running away through the wall. Beside it laythe whitest of linen towels, with a comb made of mother-of-pearl, and a brush of fir-needles, any one of which she had been far toolazy to use. She dashed the glass out of the wise woman's hand, andthere it lay, broken into a thousand pieces! Without a word, the wise woman stooped, and gathered thefragments--did not leave searching until she had gathered the lastatom, and she laid them all carefully, one by one, in the fire, nowblazing high on the hearth. Then she stood up and looked at theprincess, who had been watching her sulkily. "Rosamond, " she said, with a countenance awful in its sternness, "until you have cleansed this room--" "She calls it a room!" sneered the princess to herself. "You shall have no morsel to eat. You may drink of the well, butnothing else you shall have. When the work I set you is done, youwill find food in the same place as before. I am going from homeagain; and again I warn you not to leave the house. " "She calls it a house!--It's a good thing she's going out of itanyhow!" said the princess, turning her back for mere rudeness, forshe was one who, even if she liked a thing before, would dislike itthe moment any person in authority over her desired her to do it. When she looked again, the wise woman had vanished. Thereupon the princess ran at once to the door, and tried to openit; but open it would not. She searched on all sides, but coulddiscover no way of getting out. The windows would not open--at leastshe could not open them; and the only outlet seemed the chimney, which she was afraid to try because of the fire, which looked angry, she thought, and shot out green flames when she went near it. So shesat down to consider. One may well wonder what room forconsideration there was--with all her work lying undone behind her. She sat thus, however, considering, as she called it, until hungerbegan to sting her, when she jumped up and put her hand as usual inthe hole of the wall: there was nothing there. She fell straightinto one of her stupid rages; but neither her hunger nor the hole inthe wall heeded her rage. Then, in a burst of self-pity, she fella-weeping, but neither the hunger nor the hole cared for her tears. The darkness began to come on, and her hunger grew and grew, and theterror of the wild noises of the last night invaded her. Then shebegan to feel cold, and saw that the fire was dying. She darted tothe heap of cones, and fed it. It blazed up cheerily, and she wascomforted a little. Then she thought with herself it would surely bebetter to give in so far, and do a little work, than die of hunger. So catching up a duster, she began upon the table. The dust flewabout and nearly choked her. She ran to the well to drink, and wasrefreshed and encouraged. Perceiving now that it was a tedious planto wipe the dust from the table on to the floor, whence it wouldhave all to be swept up again, she got a wooden platter, wiped thedust into that, carried it to the fire, and threw it in. But all thetime she was getting more and more hungry and, although she triedthe hole again and again, it was only to become more and morecertain that work she must if she would eat. At length all the furniture was dusted, and she began to sweep thefloor, which happily, she thought of sprinkling with water, as fromthe window she had seen them do to the marble court of the palace. That swept, she rushed again to the hole--but still no food! She wason the verge of another rage, when the thought came that she mighthave forgotten something. To her dismay she found that table andchairs and every thing was again covered with dust--not so badly asbefore, however. Again she set to work, driven by hunger, and drawnby the hope of eating, and yet again, after a second careful wiping, sought the hole. But no! nothing was there for her! What could itmean? Her asking this question was a sign of progress: it showed that sheexpected the wise woman to keep her word. Then she bethought herthat she had forgotten the household utensils, and the dishes andplates, some of which wanted to be washed as well as dusted. Faint with hunger, she set to work yet again. One thing made herthink of another, until at length she had cleaned every thing shecould think of. Now surely she must find some food in the hole! When this time also there was nothing, she began once more to abusethe wise woman as false and treacherous;--but ah! there was the bedunwatered! That was soon amended. --Still no supper! Ah! there wasthe hearth unswept, and the fire wanted making up!--Still nosupper! What else could there be? She was at her wits' end, and invery weariness, not laziness this time, sat down and gazed into thefire. There, as she gazed, she spied something brilliant, --shiningeven, in the midst of the fire: it was the little mirror all wholeagain; but little she knew that the dust which she had thrown intothe fire had helped to heal it. She drew it out carefully, and, looking into it, saw, not indeed the ugly creature she had seenthere before, but still a very dirty little animal; whereupon shehurried to the well, took off her clothes, plunged into it, andwashed herself clean. Then she brushed and combed her hair, made herclothes as tidy as might be, and ran to the hole in the wall: therewas a huge basin of bread and milk! Never had she eaten any thing with half the relish! Alas! however, when she had finished, she did not wash the basin, but left it as itwas, revealing how entirely all the rest had been done only fromhunger. Then she threw herself on the heather, and was fast asleepin a moment. Never an evil bird came near her all that night, norhad she so much as one troubled dream. In the morning as she lay awake before getting up, she spied whatseemed a door behind the tall eight-day clock that stood silent inthe corner. "Ah!" she thought, "that must be the way out!" and got up instantly. The first thing she did, however, was to go to the hole in the wall. Nothing was there. "Well, I am hardly used!" she cried aloud. "All that cleaning forthe cross old woman yesterday, and this for my trouble, --nothing forbreakfast! Not even a crust of bread! Does Mistress Ogress fancy aprincess will bear that?" The poor foolish creature seemed to think that the work of one dayought to serve for the next day too! But that is nowhere the way inthe whole universe. How could there be a universe in that case? Andeven she never dreamed of applying the same rule to her breakfast. "How good I was all yesterday!" she said, "and how hungry and illused I am to-day!" But she would NOT be a slave, and do over again to-day what she haddone only last night! SHE didn't care about her breakfast! She mighthave it no doubt if she dusted all the wretched place again, but shewas not going to do that--at least, without seeing first what laybehind the clock! Off she darted, and putting her hand behind the clock found thelatch of a door. It lifted, and the door opened a little way. Bysqueezing hard, she managed to get behind the clock, and so throughthe door. But how she stared, when instead of the open heath, shefound herself on the marble floor of a large and stately room, lighted only from above. Its walls were strengthened by pilasters, and in every space between was a large picture, from cornice tofloor. She did not know what to make of it. Surely she had run allround the cottage, and certainly had seen nothing of this size nearit! She forgot that she had also run round what she took for ahay-mow, a peat-stack, and several other things which looked of noconsequence in the moonlight. "So, then, " she cried, "the old woman IS a cheat! I believe she's anogress, after all, and lives in a palace--though she pretends it'sonly a cottage, to keep people from suspecting that she eats goodlittle children like me!" Had the princess been tolerably tractable, she would, by this time, have known a good deal about the wise woman's beautiful house, whereas she had never till now got farther than the porch. Neitherwas she at all in its innermost places now. But, king's daughter as she was, she was not a little daunted when, stepping forward from the recess of the door, she saw what a greatlordly hall it was. She dared hardly look to the other end, itseemed so far off: so she began to gaze at the things near her, andthe pictures first of all, for she had a great liking for pictures. One in particular attracted her attention. She came back to itseveral times, and at length stood absorbed in it. A blue summer sky, with white fleecy clouds floating beneath it, hung over a hill green to the very top, and alive with streamsdarting down its sides toward the valley below. On the face of thehill strayed a flock of sheep feeding, attended by a shepherd andtwo dogs. A little way apart, a girl stood with bare feet in abrook, building across it a bridge of rough stones. The wind wasblowing her hair back from her rosy face. A lamb was feeding closebeside her; and a sheepdog was trying to reach her hand to lick it. "Oh, how I wish I were that little girl!" said the princess aloud. "I wonder how it is that some people are made to be so much happierthan others! If I were that little girl, no one would ever call menaughty. " She gazed and gazed at the picture. At length she said to herself, "I do not believe it is a picture. It is the real country, with areal hill, and a real little girl upon it. I shall soon see whetherthis isn't another of the old witch's cheats!" She went close up to the picture, lifted her foot, and stepped overthe frame. "I am free, I am free!" she exclaimed; and she felt the wind uponher cheek. The sound of a closing door struck on her ear. She turned--and therewas a blank wall, without door or window, behind her. The hill withthe sheep was before her, and she set out at once to reach it. Now, if I am asked how this could be, I can only answer, that it wasa result of the interaction of things outside and things inside, ofthe wise woman's skill, and the silly child's folly. If this doesnot satisfy my questioner, I can only add, that the wise woman wasable to do far more wonderful things than this. VI. Meantime the wise woman was busy as she always was; and her businessnow was with the child of the shepherd and shepherdess, away in thenorth. Her name was Agnes. Her father and mother were poor, and could not give her many things. Rosamond would have utterly despised the rude, simple playthings shehad. Yet in one respect they were of more value far than hers: theking bought Rosamond's with his money; Agnes's father made hers withhis hands. And while Agnes had but few things--not seeing many things abouther, and not even knowing that there were many things anywhere, shedid not wish for many things, and was therefore neither covetous noravaricious. She played with the toys her father made her, and thought them themost wonderful things in the world--windmills, and little crooks, and water-wheels, and sometimes lambs made all of wool, and dollsmade out of the leg-bones of sheep, which her mother dressed forher; and of such playthings she was never tired. Sometimes, however, she preferred playing with stones, which were plentiful, andflowers, which were few, or the brooks that ran down the hill, ofwhich, although they were many, she could only play with one at atime, and that, indeed, troubled her a little--or live lambs thatwere not all wool, or the sheep-dogs, which were very friendly withher, and the best of playfellows, as she thought, for she had nohuman ones to compare them with. Neither was she greedy after nicethings, but content, as well she might be, with the homely foodprovided for her. Nor was she by nature particularly self-willed ordisobedient; she generally did what her father and mother wished, and believed what they told her. But by degrees they had spoiledher; and this was the way: they were so proud of her that theyalways repeated every thing she said, and told every thing she did, even when she was present; and so full of admiration of their childwere they, that they wondered and laughed at and praised things inher which in another child would never have struck them as the leastremarkable, and some things even which would in another havedisgusted them altogether. Impertinent and rude things done by THEIRchild they thought SO clever! laughing at them as something quitemarvellous; her commonplace speeches were said over again as if theyhad been the finest poetry; and the pretty ways which everymoderately good child has were extolled as if the result of herexcellent taste, and the choice of her judgment and will. They wouldeven say sometimes that she ought not to hear her own praises forfear it should make her vain, and then whisper them behind theirhands, but so loud that she could not fail to hear every word. Theconsequence was that she soon came to believe--so soon, that shecould not recall the time when she did not believe, as the mostabsolute fact in the universe, that she was SOMEBODY; that is, shebecame most immoderately conceited. Now as the least atom of conceit is a thing to be ashamed of, youmay fancy what she was like with such a quantity of it inside her! At first it did not show itself outside in any very active form; butthe wise woman had been to the cottage, and had seen her sittingalone, with such a smile of self-satisfaction upon her face as wouldhave been quite startling to her, if she had ever been startled atany thing; for through that smile she could see lying at the root ofit the worm that made it. For some smiles are like the ruddiness ofcertain apples, which is owing to a centipede, or other creepingthing, coiled up at the heart of them. Only her worm had a face andshape the very image of her own; and she looked so simpering, andmawkish, and self-conscious, and silly, that she made the wise womanfeel rather sick. Not that the child was a fool. Had she been, the wise woman wouldhave only pitied and loved her, instead of feeling sick when shelooked at her. She had very fair abilities, and were she once butmade humble, would be capable not only of doing a good deal in time, but of beginning at once to grow to no end. But, if she were notmade humble, her growing would be to a mass of distorted shapes allhuddled together; so that, although the body she now showed mightgrow up straight and well-shaped and comely to behold, the new bodythat was growing inside of it, and would come out of it when shedied, would be ugly, and crooked this way and that, like an agedhawthorn that has lived hundreds of years exposed upon all sides tosalt sea-winds. As time went on, this disease of self-conceit went on too, graduallydevouring the good that was in her. For there is no fault that doesnot bring its brothers and sisters and cousins to live with it. Bydegrees, from thinking herself so clever, she came to fancy thatwhatever seemed to her, must of course be the correct judgment, andwhatever she wished, the right thing; and grew so obstinate, that atlength her parents feared to thwart her in any thing, knowing wellthat she would never give in. But there are victories far worse thandefeats; and to overcome an angel too gentle to put out all hisstrength, and ride away in triumph on the back of a devil, is one ofthe poorest. So long as she was left to take her own way and do as she would, shegave her parents little trouble. She would play about by herself inthe little garden with its few hardy flowers, or amongst the heatherwhere the bees were busy; or she would wander away amongst thehills, and be nobody knew where, sometimes from morning to night;nor did her parents venture to find fault with her. She never went into rages like the princess, and would have thoughtRosamond--oh, so ugly and vile! if she had seen her in one of herpassions. But she was no better, for all that, and was quite as uglyin the eyes of the wise woman, who could not only see but read herface. What is there to choose between a face distorted tohideousness by anger, and one distorted to silliness byself-complacency? True, there is more hope of helping the angrychild out of her form of selfishness than the conceited child out ofhers; but on the other hand, the conceited child was not so terribleor dangerous as the wrathful one. The conceited one, however, wassometimes very angry, and then her anger was more spiteful than theother's; and, again, the wrathful one was often very conceited too. So that, on the whole, of two very unpleasant creatures, I would saythat the king's daughter would have been the worse, had not theshepherd's been quite as bad. But, as I have said, the wise womanhad her eye upon her: she saw that something special must be done, else she would be one of those who kneel to their own shadows tillfeet grow on their knees; then go down on their hands till theirhands grow into feet; then lay their faces on the ground till theygrow into snouts; when at last they are a hideous sort of lizards, each of which believes himself the best, wisest, and loveliest beingin the world, yea, the very centre of the universe. And so they runabout forever looking for their own shadows, that they may worshipthem, and miserable because they cannot find them, being themselvestoo near the ground to have any shadows; and what becomes of them atlast there is but one who knows. The wise woman, therefore, one day walked up to the door of theshepherd's cottage, dressed like a poor woman, and asked for a drinkof water. The shepherd's wife looked at her, liked her, and broughther a cup of milk. The wise woman took it, for she made it a rule toaccept every kindness that was offered her. Agnes was not by nature a greedy girl, as I have said; butself-conceit will go far to generate every other vice under the sun. Vanity, which is a form of self-conceit, has repeatedly shown itselfas the deepest feeling in the heart of a horrible murderess. That morning, at breakfast, her mother had stinted her in milk--justa little--that she might have enough to make some milk-porridge fortheir dinner. Agnes did not mind it at the time, but when she sawthe milk now given to a beggar, as she called the wisewoman--though, surely, one might ask a draught of water, and accepta draught of milk, without being a beggar in any such sense asAgnes's contemptuous use of the word implied--a cloud came upon herforehead, and a double vertical wrinkle settled over her nose. Thewise woman saw it, for all her business was with Agnes though shelittle knew it, and, rising, went and offered the cup to the child, where she sat with her knitting in a corner. Agnes looked at it, didnot want it, was inclined to refuse it from a beggar, but thinkingit would show her consequence to assert her rights, took it anddrank it up. For whoever is possessed by a devil, judges with themind of that devil; and hence Agnes was guilty of such a meanness asmany who are themselves capable of something just as bad willconsider incredible. The wise woman waited till she had finished it--then, looking intothe empty cup, said: "You might have given me back as much as you had no claim upon!" Agnes turned away and made no answer--far less from shame thanindignation. The wise woman looked at the mother. "You should not have offered it to her if you did not mean her tohave it, " said the mother, siding with the devil in her childagainst the wise woman and her child too. Some foolish people thinkthey take another's part when they take the part he takes. The wise woman said nothing, but fixed her eyes upon her, and soonthe mother hid her face in her apron weeping. Then she turned againto Agnes, who had never looked round but sat with her back to both, and suddenly lapped her in the folds of her cloak. When the motheragain lifted her eyes, she had vanished. Never supposing she had carried away her child, but uncomfortablebecause of what she had said to the poor woman, the mother went tothe door, and called after her as she toiled slowly up the hill. Butshe never turned her head; and the mother went back into hercottage. The wise woman walked close past the shepherd and his dogs, andthrough the midst of his flock of sheep. The shepherd wondered whereshe could be going--right up the hill. There was something strangeabout her too, he thought; and he followed her with his eyes as shewent up and up. It was near sunset, and as the sun went down, a gray cloud setttedon the top of the mountain, which his last rays turned into a rosygold. Straight into this cloud the shepherd saw the woman hold herpace, and in it she vanished. He little imagined that his child wasunder her cloak. He went home as usual in the evening, but Agnes had not come in. They were accustomed to such an absence now and then, and were notat first frightened; but when it grew dark and she did not appear, the husband set out with his dogs in one direction, and the wife inanother, to seek their child. Morning came and they had not foundher. Then the whole country-side arose to search for the missingAgnes; but day after day and night after night passed, and nothingwas discovered of or concerning her, until at length all gave up thesearch in despair except the mother, although she was nearlyconvinced now that the poor woman had carried her off. One day she had wandered some distance from her cottage, thinkingshe might come upon the remains of her daughter at the foot of somecliff, when she came suddenly, instead, upon a disconsolate-lookingcreature sitting on a stone by the side of a stream. Her hair hung in tangles from her head; her clothes were tattered, and through the rents her skin showed in many places; her cheekswere white, and worn thin with hunger; the hollows were dark underher eyes, and they stood out scared and wild. When she caught sightof the shepherdess, she jumped to her feet, and would have run away, but fell down in a faint. At first sight the mother had taken her for her own child, but nowshe saw, with a pang of disappointment, that she had mistaken. Fullof compassion, nevertheless, she said to herself: "If she is not my Agnes, she is as much in need of help as if shewere. If I cannot be good to my own, I will be as good as I can tosome other woman's; and though I should scorn to be consoled for theloss of one by the presence of another, I yet may find some gladnessin rescuing one child from the death which has taken the other. " Perhaps her words were not just like these, but her thoughts were. She took up the child, and carried her home. And this is howRosamond came to occupy the place of the little girl whom she hadenvied in the picture. VII. Notwithstanding the differences between the two girls, which were, indeed, so many that most people would have said they were not inthe least alike, they were the same in this, that each cared morefor her own fancies and desires than for any thing else in theworld. But I will tell you another difference: the princess was likeseveral children in one--such was the variety of her moods; and inone mood she had no recollection or care about any thing whateverbelonging to a previous mood--not even if it had left her but amoment before, and had been so violent as to make her ready to puther hand in the fire to get what she wanted. Plainly she was themere puppet of her moods, and more than that, any cunning nurse whoknew her well enough could call or send away those moods almost asshe pleased, like a showman pulling strings behind a show. Agnes, onthe contrary, seldom changed her mood, but kept that of calm assuredself-satisfaction. Father nor mother had ever by wise punishmenthelped her to gain a victory over herself, and do what she did notlike or choose; and their folly in reasoning with one unreasonablehad fixed her in her conceit. She would actually nod her head toherself in complacent pride that she had stood out against them. This, however, was not so difficult as to justify even the pride ofhaving conquered, seeing she loved them so little, and paid solittle attention to the arguments and persuasions they used. Neither, when she found herself wrapped in the dark folds of thewise woman's cloak, did she behave in the least like the princess, for she was not afraid. "She'll soon set me down, " she said, tooself-important to suppose that any one would dare do her an injury. Whether it be a good thing or a bad not to be afraid depends on whatthe fearlessness is founded upon. Some have no fear, because theyhave no knowledge of the danger: there is nothing fine in that. Someare too stupid to be afraid: there is nothing fine in that. Some whoare not easily frightened would yet turn their backs and run, themoment they were frightened: such never had more courage than fear. But the man who will do his work in spite of his fear is a man oftrue courage. The fearlessness of Agnes was only ignorance: she didnot know what it was to be hurt; she had never read a single storyof giant, or ogress or wolf; and her mother had never carried outone of her threats of punishment. If the wise woman had but pinchedher, she would have shown herself an abject little coward, tremblingwith fear at every change of motion so long as she carried her. Nothing such, however, was in the wise woman's plan for the curingof her. On and on she carried her without a word. She knew that ifshe set her down she would never run after her like the princess, atleast not before the evil thing was already upon her. On and on shewent, never halting, never letting the light look in, or Agnes lookout. She walked very fast, and got home to her cottage very soonafter the princess had gone from it. But she did not set Agnes down either in the cottage or in the greathall. She had other places, none of them alike. The place she hadchosen for Agnes was a strange one--such a one as is to be foundnowhere else in the wide world. It was a great hollow sphere, made of a substance similar to that ofthe mirror which Rosamond had broken, but differently compounded. That substance no one could see by itself. It had neither door, norwindow, nor any opening to break its perfect roundness. The wise woman carried Agnes into a dark room, there undressed her, took from her hand her knitting-needles, and put her, naked as shewas born, into the hollow sphere. What sort of a place it was she could not tell. She could seenothing but a faint cold bluish light all about her. She could notfeel that any thing supported her, and yet she did not sink. Shestood for a while, perfectly calm, then sat down. Nothing bad couldhappen to HER--she was so important! And, indeed, it was but this:she had cared only for Somebody, and now she was going to have onlySomebody. Her own choice was going to be carried a good deal fartherfor her than she would have knowingly carried it for herself. After sitting a while, she wished she had something to do, butnothing came. A little longer, and it grew wearisome. She would seewhether she could not walk out of the strange luminous dusk thatsurrounded her. Walk she found she could, well enough, but walk out she could not. On and on she went, keeping as much in a straight line as she might, but after walking until she was thoroughly tired, she found herselfno nearer out of her prison than before. She had not, indeed, advanced a single step; for, in whatever direction she tried to go, the sphere turned round and round, answering her feet accordingly. Like a squirrel in his cage she but kept placing another spot of thecunningly suspended sphere under her feet, and she would have beenstill only at its lowest point after walking for ages. At length she cried aloud; but there was no answer. It grew drearyand drearier--in her, that is: outside there was no change. Nothingwas overhead, nothing under foot, nothing on either hand, but thesame pale, faint, bluish glimmer. She wept at last, then grew veryangry, and then sullen; but nobody heeded whether she cried orlaughed. It was all the same to the cold unmoving twilight thatrounded her. On and on went the dreary hours--or did they go atall?--"no change, no pause, no hope;"--on and on till she FELT shewas forgotten, and then she grew strangely still and fell asleep. The moment she was asleep, the wise woman came, lifted her out, andlaid her in her bosom; fed her with a wonderful milk, which shereceived without knowing it; nursed her all the night long, and, just ere she woke, laid her back in the blue sphere again. When first she came to herself, she thought the horrors of thepreceding day had been all a dream of the night. But they soonasserted themselves as facts, for here they were!--nothing to seebut a cold blue light, and nothing to do but see it. Oh, how slowlythe hours went by! She lost all notion of time. If she had been toldthat she had been there twenty years, she would have believed it--ortwenty minutes--it would have been all the same: except forweariness, time was for her no more. Another night came, and another still, during both of which the wisewoman nursed and fed her. But she knew nothing of that, and the sameone dreary day seemed ever brooding over her. All at once, on the third day, she was aware that a naked child wasseated beside her. But there was something about the child that madeher shudder. She never looked at Agnes, but sat with her chin sunkon her chest, and her eyes staring at her own toes. She was thecolor of pale earth, with a pinched nose, and a mere slit in herface for a mouth. "How ugly she is!" thought Agnes. "What business has she beside me!" But it was so lonely that she would have been glad to play with aserpent, and put out her hand to touch her. She touched nothing. Thechild, also, put out her hand--but in the direction away from Agnes. And that was well, for if she had touched Agnes it would have killedher. Then Agnes said, "Who are you?" And the little girl said, "Whoare you?" "I am Agnes, " said Agnes; and the little girl said, "I amAgnes. " Then Agnes thought she was mocking her, and said, "You areugly;" and the little girl said, "You are ugly. " Then Agnes lost her temper, and put out her hands to seize thelittle girl; but lo! the little girl was gone, and she found herselftugging at her own hair. She let go; and there was the little girlagain! Agnes was furious now, and flew at her to bite her. But shefound her teeth in her own arm, and the little girl was gone--onlyto return again; and each time she came back she was tenfold uglierthan before. And now Agnes hated her with her whole heart. The moment she hated her, it flashed upon her with a sickeningdisgust that the child was not another, but her Self, her Somebody, and that she was now shut up with her for ever and ever--no more forone moment ever to be alone. In her agony of despair, sleepdescended, and she slept. When she woke, there was the little girl, heedless, ugly, miserable, staring at her own toes. All at once, the creature began to smile, but with such an odious, self-satisfied expression, that Agnes feltashamed of seeing her. Then she began to pat her own cheeks, tostroke her own body, and examine her finger-ends, nodding her headwith satisfaction. Agnes felt that there could not be such anotherhateful, ape-like creature, and at the same time was perfectly awareshe was only doing outside of her what she herself had been doing, as long as she could remember, inside of her. She turned sick at herself, and would gladly have been put out ofexistence, but for three days the odious companionship went on. Bythe third day, Agnes was not merely sick but ashamed of the life shehad hitherto led, was despicable in her own eyes, and astonishedthat she had never seen the truth concerning herself before. The next morning she woke in the arms of the wise woman; the horrorhad vanished from her sight, and two heavenly eyes were gazing uponher. She wept and clung to her, and the more she clung, the moretenderly did the great strong arms close around her. When she had lain thus for a while, the wise woman carried her intoher cottage, and washed her in the little well; then dressed her inclean garments, and gave her bread and milk. When she had eaten it, she called her to her, and said very solemnly, -- "Agnes, you must not imagine you are cured. That you are ashamed ofyourself now is no sign that the cause for such shame has ceased. Innew circumstances, especially after you have done well for a while, you will be in danger of thinking just as much of yourself asbefore. So beware of yourself. I am going from home, and leave youin charge of the house. Do just as I tell you till my return. " She then gave her the same directions she had formerly givenRosamond--with this difference, that she told her to go into thepicture-hall when she pleased, showing her the entrance, againstwhich the clock no longer stood--and went away, closing the doorbehind her. VIII. As soon as she was left alone, Agnes set to work tidying and dustingthe cottage, made up the fire, watered the bed, and cleaned theinside of the windows: the wise woman herself always kept theoutside of them clean. When she had done, she found her dinner--ofthe same sort she was used to at home, but better--in the hole ofthe wall. When she had eaten it, she went to look at the pictures. By this time her old disposition had begun to rouse again. She hadbeen doing her duty, and had in consequence begun again to thinkherself Somebody. However strange it may well seem, to do one's dutywill make any one conceited who only does it sometimes. Those who doit always would as soon think of being conceited of eating theirdinner as of doing their duty. What honest boy would pride himselfon not picking pockets? A thief who was trying to reform would. Tobe conceited of doing one's duty is then a sign of how little onedoes it, and how little one sees what a contemptible thing it is notto do it. Could any but a low creature be conceited of not beingcontemptible? Until our duty becomes to us common as breathing, weare poor creatures. So Agnes began to stroke herself once more, forgetting her lateself-stroking companion, and never reflecting that she was now doingwhat she had then abhorred. And in this mood she went into thepicture-gallery. The first picture she saw represented a square in a great city, oneside of which was occupied by a splendid marble palace, with greatflights of broad steps leading up to the door. Between it and thesquare was a marble-paved court, with gates of brass, at which stoodsentries in gorgeous uniforms, and to which was affixed thefollowing proclamation in letters of gold, large enough for Agnes toread:-- "By the will of the King, from this time until further notice, everystray child found in the realm shall be brought without a moment'sdelay to the palace. Whoever shall be found having done otherwiseshall straightway lose his head by the hand of the publicexecutioner. " Agnes's heart beat loud, and her face flushed. "Can there be such a city in the world?" she said to herself. "If Ionly knew where it was, I should set out for it at once. THERE wouldbe the place for a clever girl like me!" Her eyes fell on the picture which had so enticed Rosamond. It wasthe very country where her father fed his flocks. Just round theshoulder of the hill was the cottage where her parents lived, whereshe was born and whence she had been carried by the beggar-woman. "Ah!" she said, "they didn't know me there. They little thought whatI could be, if I had the chance. If I were but in this good, kind, loving, generous king's palace, I should soon be such a great ladyas they never saw! Then they would understand what a good littlegirl I had always been! And I shouldn't forget my poor parents likesome I have read of. _I_ would be generous. _I_ should never beselfish and proud like girls in story-books!" As she said this, she turned her back with disdain upon the pictureof her home, and setting herself before the picture of the palace, stared at it with wide ambitious eyes, and a heart whose every beatwas a throb of arrogant self-esteem. The shepherd-child was now worse than ever the poor princess hadbeen. For the wise woman had given her a terrible lesson one ofwhich the princess was not capable, and she had known what it meant;yet here she was as bad as ever, therefore worse than before. Theugly creature whose presence had made her so miserable had indeedcrept out of sight and mind too--but where was she? Nestling in hervery heart, where most of all she had her company, and least of allcould see her. The wise woman had called her out, that Agnes mightsee what sort of creature she was herself; but now she was snug inher soul's bed again, and sue did not even suspect she was there. After gazing a while at the palace picture, during which herambitious pride rose and rose, she turned yet again in condescendingmood, and honored the home picture with one stare more. "What a poor, miserable spot it is compared with this lordlypalace!" she said. But presently she spied something in it she had not seen before, anddrew nearer. It was the form of a little girl, building a bridge ofstones over one of the hill-brooks. "Ah, there I am myself!" she said. "That is just how I used todo. --No, " she resumed, "it is not me. That snub-nosed little frightcould never be meant for me! It was the frock that made me think so. But it IS a picture of the place. I declare, I can see the smoke ofthe cottage rising from behind the hill! What a dull, dirty, insignificant spot it is! And what a life to lead there!" She turned once more to the city picture. And now a strange thingtook place. In proportion as the other, to the eyes of her mind, receded into the background, this, to her present bodily eyes, appeared to come forward and assume reality. At last, after it hadbeen in this way growing upon her for some time, she gave a cry ofconviction, and said aloud, -- "I do believe it is real! That frame is only a trick of the woman tomake me fancy it a picture lest I should go and make my fortune. Sheis a witch, the ugly old creature! It would serve her right to tellthe king and have her punished for not taking me to the palace--oneof his poor lost children he is so fond of! I should like to see herugly old head cut off. Anyhow I will try my luck without asking herleave. How she has ill used me!" But at that moment, she heard the voice of the wise woman calling, "Agnes!" and, smoothing her face, she tried to look as good as shecould, and walked back into the cottage. There stood the wise woman, looking all round the place, and examining her work. She fixed hereyes upon Agnes in a way that confused her, and made her cast hersdown, for she felt as if she were reading her thoughts. The wisewoman, however, asked no questions, but began to talk about herwork, approving of some of it, which filled her with arrogance, andshowing how some of it might have been done better, which filled herwith resentment. But the wise woman seemed to take no care of whatshe might be thinking, and went straight on with her lesson. By thetime it was over, the power of reading thoughts would not have beennecessary to a knowledge of what was in the mind of Agnes, for ithad all come to the surface--that is up into her face, which is thesurface of the mind. Ere it had time to sink down again, the wisewoman caught up the little mirror, and held it before her: Agnes sawher Somebody--the very embodiment of miserable conceit and uglyill-temper. She gave such a scream of horror that the wise womanpitied her, and laying aside the mirror, took her upon her knees, and talked to her most kindly and solemnly; in particular about thenecessity of destroying the ugly things that come out of theheart--so ugly that they make the very face over them ugly also. And what was Agnes doing all the time the wise woman was talking toher? Would you believe it?--instead of thinking how to kill the uglythings in her heart, she was with all her might resolving to be morecareful of her face, that is, to keep down the things in her heartso that they should not show in her face, she was resolving to be ahypocrite as well as a self-worshipper. Her heart was wormy, and theworms were eating very fast at it now. Then the wise woman laid her gently down upon the heather-bed, andshe fell fast asleep, and had an awful dream about her Somebody. When she woke in the morning, instead of getting up to do the workof the house, she lay thinking--to evil purpose. In place of takingher dream as a warning, and thinking over what the wise woman hadsaid the night before, she communed with herself in this fashion:-- "If I stay here longer, I shall be miserable, It is nothing betterthan slavery. The old witch shows me horrible things in the day toset me dreaming horrible things in the night. If I don't run away, that frightful blue prison and the disgusting girl will come back, and I shall go out of my mind. How I do wish I could find the way tothe good king's palace! I shall go and look at the picture again--ifit be a picture--as soon as I've got my clothes on. The work canwait. It's not my work. It's the old witch's; and she ought to do itherself. " She jumped out of bed, and hurried on her clothes. There was no wisewoman to be seen; and she hastened into the hall. There was thepicture, with the marble palace, and the proclamation shining inletters of gold upon its gates of brass. She stood before it, andgazed and gazed; and all the time it kept growing upon her in somestrange way, until at last she was fully persuaded that it was nopicture, but a real city, square, and marble palace, seen through aframed opening in the wall. She ran up to the frame, stepped overit, felt the wind blow upon her cheek, heard the sound of a closingdoor behind her, and was free. FREE was she, with that creatureinside her? The same moment a terrible storm of thunder and lightning, wind andrain, came on. The uproar was appalling. Agnes threw herself uponthe ground, hid her face in her hands, and there lay until it wasover. As soon as she felt the sun shining on her, she rose. Therewas the city far away on the horizon. Without once turning to take afarewell look of the place she was leaving, she set off, as fast asher feet would carry her, in the direction of the city. So eager wasshe, that again and again she fell, but only to get up, and run onfaster than before. IX. The shepherdess carried Rosamond home, gave her a warm bath in thetub in which she washed her linen, made her some bread-and-milk, andafter she had eaten it, put her to bed in Agnes's crib, where sheslept all the rest of that day and all the following night. When at last she opened her eyes, it was to see around her a farpoorer cottage than the one she had left--very bare anduncomfortable indeed, she might well have thought; but she had comethrough such troubles of late, in the way of hunger and wearinessand cold and fear, that she was not altogether in her ordinary moodof fault-finding, and so was able to lie enjoying the thought thatat length she was safe, and going to be fed and kept warm. The ideaof doing any thing in return for shelter and food and clothes, didnot, however, even cross her mind. But the shepherdess was one of that plentiful number who can bewiser concerning other women's children than concerning their own. Such will often give you very tolerable hints as to how you ought tomanage your children, and will find fault neatly enough with thesystem you are trying to carry out; but all their wisdom goes off intalking, and there is none left for doing what they have themselvessaid. There is one road talk never finds, and that is the way intothe talker's own hands and feet. And such never seem to knowthemselves--not even when they are reading about themselves inprint. Still, not being specially blinded in any direction but theirown, they can sometimes even act with a little sense towardschildren who are not theirs. They are affected with a sort ofblindness like that which renders some people incapable of seeing, except sideways. She came up to the bed, looked at the princess, and saw that she wasbetter. But she did not like her much. There was no mark of aprincess about her, and never had been since she began to run alone. True, hunger had brought down her fat cheeks, but it had not turneddown her impudent nose, or driven the sullenness and greed from hermouth. Nothing but the wise woman could do that--and not even she, without the aid of the princess herself. So the shepherdess thoughtwhat a poor substitute she had got for her own lovely Agnes--who wasin fact equally repulsive, only in a way to which she had got used;for the selfishness in her love had blinded her to the thin pinchednose and the mean self-satisfied mouth. It was well for theprincess, though, sad as it is to say, that the shepherdess did nottake to her, for then she would most likely have only done her harminstead of good. "Now, my girl, " she said, "you must get up, and do something. Wecan't keep idle folk here. " "I'm not a folk, " said Rosamond; "I'm a princess. " "A pretty princess--with a nose like that! And all in rags too! Ifyou tell such stories, I shall soon let you know what I think ofyou. " Rosamond then understood that the mere calling herself a princess, without having any thing to show for it, was of no use. She obeyedand rose, for she was hungry; but she had to sweep the floor ere shehad any thing to eat. The shepherd came in to breakfast, and was kinder than his wife. Hetook her up in his arms and would have kissed her; but she took itas an insult from a man whose hands smelt of tar, and kicked andscreamed with rage. The poor man, finding he had made a mistake, sether down at once. But to look at the two, one might well have judgedit condescension rather than rudeness in such a man to kiss such achild. He was tall, and almost stately, with a thoughtful forehead, bright eyes, eagle nose, and gentle mouth; while the princess wassuch as I have described her. Not content with being set down and let alone, she continued tostorm and scold at the shepherd, crying she was a princess, andwould like to know what right he had to touch her! But he onlylooked down upon her from the height of his tall person with abenignant smile, regarding her as a spoiled little ape whose motherhad flattered her by calling her a princess. "Turn her out of doors, the ungrateful hussy!" cried his wife. "Withyour bread and your milk inside her ugly body, this is what shegives you for it! Troth, I'm paid for carrying home such an ill-bredtramp in my arms! My own poor angel Agnes! As if that ill-temperedtoad were one hair like her!" These words drove the princess beside herself; for those who aremost given to abuse can least endure it. With fists and feet andteeth, as was her wont, she rushed at the shepherdess, whose handwas already raised to deal her a sound box on the ear, when a betterappointed minister of vengeance suddenly showed himself. Bounding inat the cottage-door came one of the sheep-dogs, who was calledPrince, and whom I shall not refer to with a WHICH, because he was avery superior animal indeed, even for a sheep-dog, which is the mostintelligent of dogs: he flew at the princess, knocked her down, andcommenced shaking her so violently as to tear her miserable clothesto pieces. Used, however, to mouthing little lambs, he took care notto hurt her much, though for her good he left her a blue nip or twoby way of letting her imagine what biting might be. His master, knowing he would not injure her, thought it better not to call himoff, and in half a minute he left her of his own accord, and, casting a glance of indignant rebuke behind him as he went, walkedslowly to the hearth, where he laid himself down with his tailtoward her. She rose, terrified almost to death, and would havecrept again into Agnes's crib for refuge; but the shepherdesscried-- "Come, come, princess! I'll have no skulking to bed in the gooddaylight. Go and clean your master's Sunday boots there. " "I will not!" screamed the princess, and ran from the house. "Prince!" cried the shepherdess, and up jumped the dog, and lookedin her face, wagging his bushy tail. "Fetch her back, " she said, pointing to the door. With two or three bounds Prince caught the princess, again threw herdown, and taking her by her clothes dragged her back into thecottage, and dropped her at his mistress' feet, where she lay like abundle of rags. "Get up, " said the shepherdess. Rosamond got up as pale as death. "Go and clean the boots. " "I don't know how. " "Go and try. There are the brushes, and yonder is the blacking-pot. " Instructing her how to black boots, it came into the thought of theshepherdess what a fine thing it would be if she could teach thismiserable little wretch, so forsaken and ill-bred, to be a good, well-behaved, respectable child. She was hardly the woman to do it, but every thing well meant is a help, and she had the wisdom to begher husband to place Prince under her orders for a while, and nottake him to the hill as usual, that he might help her in getting theprincess into order. When the husband was gone, and his boots, with the aid of her ownfinishing touches, at last quite respectably brushed, theshepherdess told the princess that she might go and play for awhile, only she must not go out of sight of the cottage-door. The princess went right gladly, with the firm intention, however, ofgetting out of sight by slow degrees, and then at once taking to herheels. But no sooner was she over the threshold than the shepherdesssaid to the dog, "Watch her;" and out shot Prince. The moment she saw him, Rosamond threw herself on her face, trembling from head to foot. But the dog had no quarrel with her, and of the violence against which he always felt bound to protest indog fashion, there was no sign in the prostrate shape before him; sohe poked his nose under her, turned her over, and began licking herface and hands. When she saw that he meant to be friendly, her lovefor animals, which had had no indulgence for a long time now, camewide awake, and in a little while they were romping and rushingabout, the best friends in the world. Having thus seen one enemy, as she thought, changed to a friend, shebegan to resume her former plan, and crept cunningly farther andfarther. At length she came to a little hollow, and instantly rolleddown into it. Finding then that she was out of sight of the cottage, she ran off at full speed. But she had not gone more than a dozen paces, when she heard agrowling rush behind her, and the next instant was on the ground, with the dog standing over her, showing his teeth, and flaming ather with his eyes. She threw her arms round his neck, andimmediately he licked her face, and let her get up. But the momentshe would have moved a step farther from the cottage, there he wasit front of her, growling, and showing his teeth. She saw it was ofno use, and went back with him. Thus was the princess provided with a dog for a private tutor--justthe right sort for her. Presently the shepherdess appeared at the door and called her. Shewould have disregarded the summons, but Prince did his best to lether know that, until she could obey herself, she must obey him. Soshe went into the cottage, and there the shepherdess ordered her topeel the potatoes for dinner. She sulked and refused. Here Princecould do nothing to help his mistress, but she had not to go far tofind another ally. "Very well, Miss Princess!" she said; "we shall soon see how youlike to go without when dinner-time comes. " Now the princess had very little foresight, and the idea of futurehunger would have moved her little; but happily, from her game ofromps with Prince, she had begun to be hungry already, and so thethreat had force. She took the knife and began to peel the potatoes. By slow degrees the princess improved a little. A few more outbreaksof passion, and a few more savage attacks from Prince, and she hadlearned to try to restrain herself when she felt the passion comingon; while a few dinnerless afternoons entirely opened her eyes tothe necessity of working in order to eat. Prince was her first, andHunger her second dog-counsellor. But a still better thing was that she soon grew very fond of Prince. Towards the gaining of her affections, he had three advantages:first, his nature was inferior to hers; next, he was a beast; andlast, she was afraid of him; for so spoiled was she that she couldmore easily love what was below than what was above her, and abeast, than one of her own kind, and indeed could hardly have evercome to love any thing much that she had not first learned to fear, and the white teeth and flaming eyes of the angry Prince were moreterrible to her than any thing had yet been, except those of thewolf, which she had now forgotten. Then again, he was such adelightful playfellow, that so long as she neither lost her temper, nor went against orders, she might do almost any thing she pleasedwith him. In fact, such was his influence upon her, that she who hadscoffed at the wisest woman in the whole world, and derided thewishes of her own father and mother, came at length to regard thisdog as a superior being, and to look up to him as well as love him. And this was best of all. The improvement upon her, in the course of a month, was plain. Shehad quite ceased to go into passions, and had actually begun to takea little interest in her work and try to do it well. Still, the change was mostly an outside one. I do not mean that shewas pretending. Indeed she had never been given to pretence of anysort. But the change was not in HER, only in her mood. A secondchange of circumstances would have soon brought a second change ofbehavior; and, so long as that was possible, she continued the samesort of person she had always been. But if she had not gained much, a trifle had been gained for her: a little quietness and order ofmind, and hence a somewhat greater possibility of the first idea ofright arising in it, whereupon she would begin to see what awretched creature she was, and must continue until she herself wasright. Meantime the wise woman had been watching her when she least fanciedit, and taking note of the change that was passing upon her. Out ofthe large eyes of a gentle sheep she had been watching her--a sheepthat puzzled the shepherd; for every now and then she would appearin his flock, and he would catch sight of her two or three times ina day, sometimes for days together, yet he never saw her when helooked for her, and never when he counted the flock into the fold atnight. He knew she was not one of his; but where could she comefrom, and where could she go to? For there was no other flock withinmany miles, and he never could get near enough to her to see whetheror not she was marked. Nor was Prince of the least use to him forthe unravelling of the mystery; for although, as often as he toldhim to fetch the strange sheep, he went bounding to her at once, itwas only to lie down at her feet. At length, however, the wise woman had made up her mind, and afterthat the strange sheep no longer troubled the shepherd. As Rosamond improved, the shepherdess grew kinder. She gave her allAgnes's clothes, and began to treat her much more like a daughter. Hence she had a great deal of liberty after the little work requiredof her was over, and would often spend hours at a time with theshepherd, watching the sheep and the dogs, and learning a littlefrom seeing how Prince, and the others as well, managed theircharge--how they never touched the sheep that did as they were toldand turned when they were bid, but jumped on a disobedient flock, and ran along their backs, biting, and barking, and half chokingthemselves with mouthfuls of their wool. Then also she would play with the brooks, and learn their songs, andbuild bridges over them. And sometimes she would be seized with suchdelight of heart that she would spread out her arms to the wind, andgo rushing up the hill till her breath left her, when she wouldtumble down in the heather, and lie there till it came back again. A noticeable change had by this time passed also on her countenance. Her coarse shapeless mouth had begun to show a glimmer of lines andcurves about it, and the fat had not returned with the roses to hercheeks, so that her eyes looked larger than before; while, morenoteworthy still, the bridge of her nose had grown higher, so thatit was less of the impudent, insignificant thing inherited from acertain great-great-great-grandmother, who had little else to leaveher. For a long time, it had fitted her very well, for it was justlike her; but now there was ground for alteration, and already thegranny who gave it her would not have recognized it. It was growinga little liker Prince's; and Prince's was a long, perceptive, sagacious nose, --one that was seldom mistaken. One day about noon, while the sheep were mostly lying down, and theshepherd, having left them to the care of the dogs, was himselfstretched under the shade of a rock a little way apart, and theprincess sat knitting, with Prince at her feet, lying in wait for asnap at a great fly, for even he had his follies--Rosamond saw apoor woman come toiling up the hill, but took little notice of heruntil she was passing, a few yards off, when she heard her utter thedog's name in a low voice. Immediately on the summons, Prince started up and followed her--withhanging head, but gently-wagging tail. At first the princess thoughthe was merely taking observations, and consulting with his nosewhether she was respectable or not, but she soon saw that he wasfollowing her in meek submission. Then she sprung to her feet andcried, "Prince, Prince!" But Prince only turned his head and gaveher an odd look, as if he were trying to smile, and could not. Thenthe princess grew angry, and ran after him, shouting, "Prince, comehere directly. " Again Prince turned his head, but this time to growland show his teeth. The princess flew into one of her forgotten rages, and picking up astone, flung it at the woman. Prince turned and darted at her, withfury in his eyes, and his white teeth gleaming. At the awful sightthe princess turned also, and would have fled, but he was upon herin a moment, and threw her to the ground, and there she lay. It was evening when she came to herself. A cool twilight wind, thatsomehow seemed to come all the way from the stars, was blowing uponher. The poor woman and Prince, the shepherd and his sheep, were allgone, and she was left alone with the wind upon the heather. She felt sad, weak, and, perhaps, for the first time in her life, alittle ashamed. The violence of which she had been guilty hadvanished from her spirit, and now lay in her memory with the calmmorning behind it, while in front the quiet dusky night was nowclosing in the loud shame betwixt a double peace. Between the twoher passion looked ugly. It pained her to remember. She felt it washateful, and HERS. But, alas, Prince was gone! That horrid woman had taken him away!The fury rose again in her heart, and raged--until it came to hermind how her dear Prince would have flown at her throat if he hadseen her in such a passion. The memory calmed her, and she rose andwent home. There, perhaps, she would find Prince, for surely hecould never have been such a silly dog as go away altogether with astrange woman! She opened the door and went in. Dogs were asleep all about thecottage, it seemed to her, but nowhere was Prince. She crept away toher little bed, and cried herself asleep. In the morning the shepherd and shepherdess were indeed glad to findshe had come home, for they thought she had run away. "Where is Prince?" she cried, the moment she waked. "His mistress has taken him, " answered the shepherd. "Was that woman his mistress?" "I fancy so. He followed her as if he had known her all his life. Iam very sorry to lose him, though. " The poor woman had gone close past the rock where the shepherd lay. He saw her coming, and thought of the strange sheep which had beenfeeding beside him when he lay down. "Who can she be?" he said tohimself; but when he noted how Prince followed her, without evenlooking up at him as he passed, he remembered how Prince had come tohim. And this was how: as he lay in bed one fierce winter morning, just about to rise, he heard the voice of a woman call to himthrough the storm, "Shepherd, I have brought you a dog. Be good tohim. I will come again and fetch him away. " He dressed as quickly ashe could, and went to the door. It was half snowed up, but on thetop of the white mound before it stood Prince. And now he had goneas mysteriously as he had come, and he felt sad. Rosamond was very sorry too, and hence when she saw the looks of theshepherd and shepherdess, she was able to understand them. And shetried for a while to behave better to them because of their sorrow. So the loss of the dog brought them all nearer to each other. X. After the thunder-storm, Agnes did not meet with a singleobstruction or misadventure. Everybody was strangely polite, gaveher whatever she desired, and answered her questions, but asked nonein return, and looked all the time as if her departure would be arelief. They were afraid, in fact, from her appearance, lest sheshould tell them that she was lost, when they would be bound, onpain of public execution, to take her to the palace. But no sooner had she entered the city than she saw it would hardlydo to present herself as a lost child at the palace-gates; for howwere they to know that she was not an impostor, especially since shereally was one, having run away from the wise woman? So she wanderedabout looking at every thing until she was tired, and bewildered bythe noise and confusion all around her. The wearier she got, themore was she pushed in every direction. Having been used to a wholehill to wander upon, she was very awkward in the crowded streets, and often on the point of being run over by the horses, which seemedto her to be going every way like a frightened flock. She spoke toseveral persons, but no one stopped to answer her; and at length, her courage giving way, she felt lost indeed, and began to cry. Asoldier saw her, and asked what was the matter. "I've nowhere to go to, " she sobbed. "Where's your mother?" asked the soldier. "I don't know, " answered Agnes. "I was carried off by an old woman, who then went away and left me. I don't know where she is, or whereI am myself. " "Come, " said the soldier, "this is a case for his Majesty. " So saying, he took her by the hand, led her to the palace, andbegged an audience of the king and queen. The porter glanced atAgnes, immediately admitted them, and showed them into a greatsplendid room, where the king and queen sat every day to review lostchildren, in the hope of one day thus finding their Rosamond. Butthey were by this time beginning to get tired of it. The moment theycast their eyes upon Agnes, the queen threw back her head, threw upher hands, and cried, "What a miserable, conceited, white-facedlittle ape!" and the king turned upon the soldier in wrath, andcried, forgetting his own decree, "What do you mean by bringing sucha dirty, vulgar-looking, pert creature into my palace? The dullestsoldier in my army could never for a moment imagine a child likeTHAT, one hair's-breadth like the lovely angel we lost!" "I humbly beg your Majesty's pardon, " said the soldier, "but whatwas I to do? There stands your Majesty's proclamation in goldletters on the brazen gates of the palace. " "I shall have it taken down, " said the king. "Remove the child. " "Please your Majesty, what am I to do with her?" "Take her home with you. " "I have six already, sire, and do not want her. " "Then drop her where you picked her up. " "If I do, sire, some one else will find her and bring her back toyour Majesties. " "That will never do, " said the king. "I cannot bear to look at her. " "For all her ugliness, " said the queen, "she is plainly lost, and sois our Rosamond. " "It may be only a pretence, to get into the palace, " said the king. "Take her to the head scullion, soldier, " said the queen, "and tellher to make her useful. If she should find out she has beenpretending to be lost, she must let me know. " The soldier was so anxious to get rid of her, that he caught her upin his arms, hurried her from the room, found his way to thescullery, and gave her, trembling with fear, in charge to the headmaid, with the queen's message. As it was evident that the queen had no favor for her, the servantsdid as they pleased with her, and often treated her harshly. Not oneamongst them liked her, nor was it any wonder, seeing that, withevery step she took from the wise woman's house, she had grown morecontemptible, for she had grown more conceited. Every civil answergiven her, she attributed to the impression she made, not to thedesire to get rid of her; and every kindness, to approbation of herlooks and speech, instead of friendliness to a lonely child. Henceby this time she was twice as odious as before; for whoever has hadsuch severe treatment as the wise woman gave her, and is not thebetter for it, always grows worse than before. They drove her about, boxed her ears on the smallest provocation, laid every thing to hercharge, called her all manner of contemptuous names, jeered andscoffed at her awkwardnesses, and made her life so miserable thatshe was in a fair way to forget every thing she had learned, andknow nothing but how to clean saucepans and kettles. They would not have been so hard upon her, however, but for herirritating behavior. She dared not refuse to do as she was told, butshe obeyed now with a pursed-up mouth, and now with a contemptuoussmile. The only thing that sustained her was her constant contrivinghow to get out of the painful position in which she found herself. There is but one true way, however, of getting out of any positionwe may be in, and that is, to do the work of it so well that we growfit for a better: I need not say this was not the plan upon whichAgnes was cunning enough to fix. She had soon learned from the talk around her the reason of theproclamation which had brought her hither. "Was the lost princess so very beautiful?" she said one day to theyoungest of her fellow-servants. "Beautiful!" screamed the maid; "she was just the ugliest littletoad you ever set eyes upon. " "What was she like?" asked Agnes. "She was about your size, and quite as ugly, only not in the sameway; for she had red cheeks, and a cocked little nose, and thebiggest, ugliest mouth you ever saw. " Agnes fell a-thinking. "Is there a picture of her anywhere in the palace?" she asked. "How should I know? You can ask a housemaid. " Agnes soon learned that there was one, and contrived to get a peepof it. Then she was certain of what she had suspected from thedescription given of her, namely, that she was the same she had seenin the picture at the wise woman's house. The conclusion followed, that the lost princess must be staying with her father and mother, for assuredly in the picture she wore one of her frocks. She went to the head scullion, and with humble manner, but proudheart, begged her to procure for her the favor of a word with thequeen. "A likely thing indeed!" was the answer, accompanied by a resoundingbox on the ear. She tried the head cook next, but with no better success, and so wasdriven to her meditations again, the result of which was that shebegan to drop hints that she knew something about the princess. Thiscame at length to the queen's ears, and she sent for her. Absorbed in her own selfish ambitions, Agnes never thought of therisk to which she was about to expose her parents, but told thequeen that in her wanderings she had caught sight of just such alovely creature as she described the princess, only dressed like apeasant--saying, that, if the king would permit her to go and lookfor her, she had little doubt of bringing her back safe and soundwithin a few weeks. But although she spoke the truth, she had such a look of cunning onher pinched face, that the queen could not possibly trust her, butbelieved that she made the proposal merely to get away, and havemoney given her for her journey. Still there was a chance, and shewould not say any thing until she had consulted the king. Then they had Agnes up before the lord chancellor, who, after muchquestioning of her, arrived at last, he thought, at some notion ofthe part of the country described by her--that was, if she spokethe truth, which, from her looks and behavior, he also consideredentirely doubtful. Thereupon she was ordered back to the kitchen, and a band of soldiers, under a clever lawyer, sent out to searchevery foot of the supposed region. They were commanded not to returnuntil they brought with them, bound hand and foot, such a shepherdpair as that of which they received a full description. And now Agnes was worse off than before. For to her other miserieswas added the fear of what would befall her when it was discoveredthat the persons of whom they were in quest, and whom she wascertain they must find, were her own father and mother. By this time the king and queen were so tired of seeing lostchildren, genuine or pretended--for they cared for no child anylonger than there seemed a chance of its turning out theirchild--that with this new hope, which, however poor and vague atfirst, soon began to grow upon such imaginations as they had, theycommanded the proclamation to be taken down from the palace gates, and directed the various sentries to admit no child whatever, lostor found, be the reason or pretence what it might, until furtherorders. "I'm sick of children!" said the king to his secretary, as hefinished dictating the direction. XI. After Prince was gone, the princess, by degrees, fell back into someof her bad old ways, from which only the presence of the dog, nother own betterment, had kept her. She never grew nearly so selfishagain, but she began to let her angry old self lift up its head oncemore, until by and by she grew so bad that the shepherdess declaredshe should not stop in the house a day longer, for she was quiteunendurable. "It is all very well for you, husband, " she said, "for you haven'ther all day about you, and only see the best of her. But if you hadher in work instead of play hours, you would like her no better thanI do. And then it's not her ugly passions only, but when she's inone of her tantrums, it's impossible to get any work out of her. Atsuch times she's just as obstinate as--as--as"-- She was going to say "as Agnes, " but the feelings of a motherovercame her, and she could not utter the words. "In fact, " she said instead, "she makes my life miserable. " The shepherd felt he had no right to tell his wife she must submitto have her life made miserable, and therefore, although he wasreally much attached to Rosamond, he would not interfere; and theshepherdess told her she must look out for another place. The princess was, however, this much better than before, even inrespect of her passions, that they were not quite so bad, and afterone was over, she was really ashamed of it. But not once, ever sincethe departure of Prince had she tried to check the rush of the eviltemper when it came upon her. She hated it when she was out of it, and that was something; but while she was in it, she went full swingwith it wherever the prince of the power of it pleased to carry her. Nor was this all: although she might by this time have known wellenough that as soon as she was out of it she was certain to beashamed of it, she would yet justify it to herself with twentydifferent arguments that looked very good at the time, but wouldhave looked very poor indeed afterwards, if then she had everremembered them. She was not sorry to leave the shepherd's cottage, for she feltcertain of soon finding her way back to her father and mother; andshe would, indeed, have set out long before, but that her foot hadsomehow got hurt when Prince gave her his last admonition, and shehad never since been able for long walks, which she sometimes blamedas the cause of her temper growing worse. But if people aregood-tempered only when they are comfortable, what thanks havethey?--Her foot was now much better; and as soon as the shepherdesshad thus spoken, she resolved to set out at once, and work or begher way home. At the moment she was quite unmindful of what she owedthe good people, and, indeed, was as yet incapable of understandinga tenth part of her obligation to them. So she bade them good bywithout a tear, and limped her way down the hill, leaving theshepherdess weeping, and the shepherd looking very grave. When she reached the valley she followed the course of the stream, knowing only that it would lead her away from the hill where thesheep fed, into richer lands where were farms and cattle. Roundingone of the roots of the hill she saw before her a poor woman walkingslowly along the road with a burden of heather upon her back, andpresently passed her, but had gone only a few paces farther when sheheard her calling after her in a kind old voice-- "Your shoe-tie is loose, my child. " But Rosamond was growing tired, for her foot had become painful, andso she was cross, and neither returned answer, nor paid heed to thewarning. For when we are cross, all our other faults grow busy, andpoke up their ugly heads like maggots, and the princess's olddislike to doing any thing that came to her with the least air ofadvice about it returned in full force. "My child, " said the woman again, "if you don't fasten yourshoe-tie, it will make you fall. " "Mind your own business, " said Rosamond, without even turning herhead, and had not gone more than three steps when she fell flat onher face on the path. She tried to get up, but the effort forcedfrom her a scream, for she had sprained the ankle of the foot thatwas already lame. The old woman was by her side instantly. "Where are you hurt, child?" she asked, throwing down her burden andkneeling beside her. "Go away, " screamed Rosamond. "YOU made me fall, you bad woman!" The woman made no reply, but began to feel her joints, and soondiscovered the sprain. Then, in spite of Rosamond's abuse, and theviolent pushes and even kicks she gave her, she took the hurt anklein her hands, and stroked and pressed it, gently kneading it, as itwere, with her thumbs, as if coaxing every particle of the musclesinto its right place. Nor had she done so long before Rosamond laystill. At length she ceased, and said:-- "Now, my child, you may get up. " "I can't get up, and I'm not your child, " cried Rosamond. "Go away. " Without another word the woman left her, took up her burden, andcontinued her journey. In a little while Rosamond tried to get up, and not only succeeded, but found she could walk, and, indeed, presently discovered that herankle and foot also were now perfectly well. "I wasn't much hurt after all, " she said to herself, nor sent asingle grateful thought after the poor woman, whom she speedilypassed once more upon the road without even a greeting. Late in the afternoon she came to a spot where the path divided intotwo, and was taking the one she liked the look of better, when shestarted at the sound of the poor woman's voice, whom she thought shehad left far behind, again calling her. She looked round, and thereshe was, toiling under her load of heather as before. "You are taking the wrong turn, child. " she cried. "How can you tell that?" said Rosamond. "You know nothing aboutwhere I want to go. " "I know that road will take you where you won't want to go, " saidthe woman. "I shall know when I get there, then, " returned Rosamond, "and nothanks to you. " She set off running. The woman took the other path, and was soon outof sight. By and by, Rosamond found herself in the midst of a peat-moss--aflat, lonely, dismal, black country. She thought, however, that theroad would soon lead her across to the other side of it among thefarms, and went on without anxiety. But the stream, which hadhitherto been her guide, had now vanished; and when it began to growdark, Rosamond found that she could no longer distinguish the track. She turned, therefore, but only to find that the same darknesscovered it behind as well as before. Still she made the attempt togo back by keeping as direct a line as she could, for the path wasstraight as an arrow. But she could not see enough even to start herin a line, and she had not gone far before she found herself hemmedin, apparently on every side, by ditches and pools of black, dismal, slimy water. And now it was so dark that she could see nothing morethan the gleam of a bit of clear sky now and then in the water. Again and again she stepped knee-deep in black mud, and once tumbleddown in the shallow edge of a terrible pool; after which she gave upthe attempt to escape the meshes of the watery net, stood still, andbegan to cry bitterly, despairingly. She saw now that herunreasonable anger had made her foolish as well as rude, and feltthat she was justly punished for her wickedness to the poor womanwho had been so friendly to her. What would Prince think of her, ifhe knew? She cast herself on the ground, hungry, and cold, andweary. Presently, she thought she saw long creatures come heaving out ofthe black pools. A toad jumped upon her, and she shrieked, andsprang to her feet, and would have run away headlong, when she spiedin the distance a faint glimmer. She thought it was a Will-o'-the-wisp. What could he be after? Was he looking for her? She darednot run, lest he should see and pounce upon her. The light camenearer, and grew brighter and larger. Plainly, the little fiend waslooking for her--he would torment her. After many twistings andturnings among the pools, it came straight towards her, and shewould have shrieked, but that terror made her dumb. It came nearer and nearer, and lo! it was borne by a dark figure, with a burden on its back: it was the poor woman, and no demon, thatwas looking for her! She gave a scream of joy, fell down weeping ather feet, and clasped her knees. Then the poor woman threw away herburden, laid down her lantern, took the princess up in her arms, folded her cloak around her, and having taken up her lantern again, carried her slowly and carefully through the midst of the blackpools, winding hither and thither. All night long she carried herthus, slowly and wearily, until at length the darkness grew a littlethinner, an uncertain hint of light came from the east, and the poorwoman, stopping on the brow of a little hill, opened her cloak, andset the princess down. "I can carry you no farther, " she said. "Sit there on the grass tillthe light comes. I will stand here by you. " Rosamond had been asleep. Now she rubbed her eyes and looked, but itwas too dark to see any thing more than that there was a sky overher head. Slowly the light grew, until she could see the form of thepoor woman standing in front of her; and as it went on growing, shebegan to think she had seen her somewhere before, till all at onceshe thought of the wise woman, and saw it must be she. Then she wasso ashamed that she bent down her head, and could look at her nolonger. But the poor woman spoke, and the voice was that of the wisewoman, and every word went deep into the heart of the princess. "Rosamond, " she said, "all this time, ever since I carried you fromyour father's palace, I have been doing what I could to make you alovely creature: ask yourself how far I have succeeded. " All her past story, since she found herself first under the wisewoman's cloak, arose, and glided past the inner eyes of theprincess, and she saw, and in a measure understood, it all. But shesat with her eyes on the ground, and made no sign. Then said the wise woman:-- "Below there is the forest which surrounds my house. I am goinghome. If you pleage to come there to me, I will help you, in a way Icould not do now, to be good and lovely. I will wait you there allday, but if you start at once, you may be there long before noon. Ishall have your breakfast waiting for you. One thing more: thebeasts have not yet all gone home to their holes; but I give you myword, not one will touch you so long as you keep coming nearer to myhouse. " She ceased. Rosamond sat waiting to hear something more; but nothingcame. She looked up; she was alone. Alone once more! Always being left alone, because she would notyield to what was right! Oh, how safe she had felt under the wisewoman's cloak! She had indeed been good to her, and she had inreturn behaved like one of the hyenas of the awful wood! What awonderful house it was she lived in! And again all her own storycame up into her brain from her repentant heart. "Why didn't she take me with her?" she said. "I would have gonegladly. " And she wept. But her own conscience told her that, in thevery middle of her shame and desire to be good, she had returned noanswer to the words of the wise woman; she had sat like atree-stump, and done nothing. She tried to say there was nothing tobe done; but she knew at once that she could have told the wisewoman she had been very wicked, and asked her to take her with her. Now there was nothing to be done. "Nothing to be done!" said her conscience. "Cannot you rise, andwalk down the hill, and through the wood?" "But the wild beasts!" "There it is! You don't believe the wise woman yet! Did she not tellyou the beasts would not touch you?" "But they are so horrid!" "Yes, they are; but it would be far better to be eaten up alive bythem than live on--such a worthless creature as you are. Why, you're not fit to be thought about by any but bad ugly creatures. " This was how herself talked to her. XII. All at once she jumped to her feet, and ran at full speed down thehill and into the wood. She heard howlings and yellings on all sidesof her, but she ran straight on, as near as she could judge. Herspirits rose as she ran. Suddenly she saw before her, in the dusk ofthe thick wood, a group of some dozen wolves and hyenas, standingall together right in her way, with their green eyes fixed upon herstaring. She faltered one step, then bethought her of what the wisewoman had promised, and keeping straight on, dashed right into themiddle of them. They fled howling, as if she had struck them withfire. She was no more afraid after that, and ere the sun was up shewas out of the wood and upon the heath, which no bad thing couldstep upon and live. With the first peep of the sun above thehorizon, she saw the little cottage before her, and ran as fast asshe could run towards it, When she came near it, she saw that thedoor was open, and ran straight into the outstretched arms of thewise woman. The wise woman kissed her and stroked her hair, set her down by thefire, and gave her a bowl of bread and milk. When she had eaten it she drew her before her where she sat, andspoke to her thus:-- "Rosamond, if you would be a blessed creature instead of a merewretch, you must submit to be tried. " "Is that something terrible?" asked the princess, turning white. "No, my child; but it is something very difficult to come well outof. Nobody who has not been tried knows how difficult it is; butwhoever has come well out of it, and those who do not overcome neverdo come out of it, always looks back with horror, not on what shehas come through, but on the very idea of the possibility of havingfailed, and being still the same miserable creature as before. " "You will tell me what it is before it begins?" said the princess. "I will not tell you exactly. But I will tell you some things tohelp you. One great danger is that perhaps you will think you are init before it has really begun, and say to yourself, 'Oh! this isreally nothing to me. It may be a trial to some, but for me I amsure it is not worth mentioning. ' And then, before you know, it willbe upon you, and you will fail utterly and shamefully. " "I will be very, very careful, " said the princess. "Only don't letme be frightened. " "You shall not be frightened, except it be your own doing. You arealready a brave girl, and there is no occasion to try you more thatway. I saw how you rushed into the middle of the ugly creatures; andas they ran from you, so will all kinds of evil things, as long asyou keep them outside of you, and do not open the cottage of yourheart to let them in. I will tell you something more about what youwill have to go through. "Nobody can be a real princess--do not imagine you have yet been anything more than a mock one--until she is a princess over herself, that is, until, when she finds herself unwilling to do the thingthat is right, she makes herself do it. So long as any mood she isin makes her do the thing she will be sorry for when that mood isover, she is a slave, and no princess. A princess is able to do whatis right even should she unhappily be in a mood that would makeanother unable to do it. For instance, if you should be cross andangry, you are not a whit the less bound to be just, yes, kindeven--a thing most difficult in such a mood--though ease itself in agood mood, loving and sweet. Whoever does what she is bound to do, be she the dirtiest little girl in the street, is a princess, worshipful, honorable. Nay, more; her might goes farther than shecould send it, for if she act so, the evil mood will wither and die, and leave her loving and clean. --Do you understand me, dearRosamond?" As she spoke, the wise woman laid her hand on her head andlooked--oh, so lovingly!--into her eyes. "I am not sure, " said the princess, humbly. "Perhaps you will understand me better if I say it just comes tothis, that you must NOT DO what is wrong, however much you areinclined to do it, and you must DO what is right, however much youare disinclined to do it. " "I understand that, " said the princess. "I am going, then, to put you in one of the mood-chambers of which Ihave many in the house. Its mood will come upon you, and you willhave to deal with it. " She rose and took her by the hand. The princess trembled a little, but never thought of resisting. The wise woman led her into the great hall with the pictures, andthrough a door at the farther end, opening upon another large hall, which was circular, and had doors close to each other all round it. Of these she opened one, pushed the princess gently in, and closedit behind her. The princess found herself in her old nursery. Her little whiterabbit came to meet her in a lumping canter as if his back weregoing to tumble over his head. Her nurse, in her rocking-chair bythe chimney corner, sat just as she had used. The fire burnedbrightly, and on the table were many of her wonderful toys, onwhich, however, she now looked with some contempt. Her nurse did notseem at all surprised to see her, any more than if the princess hadbut just gone from the room and returned again. "Oh! how different I am from what I used to be!" thought theprincess to herself, looking from her toys to her nurse. "The wisewoman has done me so much good already! I will go and see mamma atonce, and tell her I am very glad to be at home again, and verysorry I was so naughty. " She went towards the door. "Your queen-mamma, princess, cannot see you now, " said her nurse. "I have yet to learn that it is my part to take orders from aservant, " said the princess with temper and dignity. "I beg your pardon, princess, returned her nurse, politely; "but itis my duty to tell you that your queen-mamma is at this momentengaged. She is alone with her most intimate friend, the Princess ofthe Frozen Regions. " "I shall see for myself, " returned the princess, bridling, andwalked to the door. Now little bunny, leap-frogging near the door, happened that momentto get about her feet, just as she was going to open it, so that shetripped and fell against it, striking her forehead a good blow. Shecaught up the rabbit in a rage, and, crying, "It is all your fault, you ugly old wretch!" threw it with violence in her nurse's face. Her nurse caught the rabbit, and held it to her face, as if seekingto sooth its fright. But the rabbit looked very limp and odd, and, to her amazement, Rosamond presently saw that the thing was norabbit, but a pocket-handkerchief. The next moment she removed itfrom her face, and Rosamond beheld--not her nurse, but the wisewoman--standing on her own hearth, while she herself stood by thedoor leading from the cottage into the hall. "First trial a failure, " said the wise woman quietly. Overcome with shame, Rosamond ran to her, fell down on her knees, and hid her face in her dress. "Need I say any thing?" said the wise woman, stroking her hair. "No, no, " cried the princess. "I am horrid. " "You know now the kind of thing you have to meet: are you ready totry again?" "MAY I try again?" cried the princess, jumping up. "I'm ready. I donot think I shall fail this time. " "The trial will be harder. " Rosamond drew in her breath, and set her teeth. The wise womanlooked at her pitifully, but took her by the hand, led her to theround hall, opened the same door, and closed it after her. The princess expected to find herself again in the nursery, but inthe wise woman's house no one ever has the same trial twice. She wasin a beautiful garden, full of blossoming trees and the loveliestroses and lilies. A lake was in the middle of it, with a tiny boat. So delightful was it that Rosamond forgot all about how or why shehad come there, and lost herself in the joy of the flowers and thetrees and the water. Presently came the shout of a child, merry andglad, and from a clump of tulip trees rushed a lovely little boy, with his arms stretched out to her. She was charmed at the sight, ran to meet him, caught him up in her arms, kissed him, and couldhardly let him go again. But the moment she set him down he ran fromher towards the lake, looking back as he ran, and crying "Come, come. " She followed. He made straight for the boat, clambered into it, andheld out his hand to help her in. Then he caught up the littleboat-hook, and pushed away from the shore: there was a great whiteflower floating a few yards off, and that was the little fellow'sgoal. But, alas! no sooner had Rosamond caught sight of it, huge andglowing as a harvest moon, than she felt a great desire to have itherself. The boy, however, was in the bows of the boat, and caughtit first. It had a long stem, reaching down to the bottom of thewater, and for a moment he tugged at it in vain, but at last it gaveway so suddenly, that he tumbled back with the flower into thebottom of the boat. Then Rosamond, almost wild at the danger it wasin as he struggled to rise, hurried to save it, but somehow betweenthem it came in pieces, and all its petals of fretted silver werescattered about the boat. When the boy got up, and saw the ruin hiscompanion had occasioned, he burst into tears, and having the longstalk of the flower still in his hand, struck her with it across theface. It did not hurt her much, for he was a very little fellow, butit was wet and slimy. She tumbled rather than rushed at him, seizedhim in her arms, tore him from his frightened grasp, and flung himinto the water. His head struck on the boat as he fell, and he sankat once to the bottom, where he lay looking up at her with whiteface and open eyes. The moment she saw the consequences of her deed she was filled withhorrible dismay. She tried hard to reach down to him through thewater, but it was far deeper than it looked, and she could not. Neither could she get her eyes to leave the white face: its eyesfascinated and fixed hers; and there she lay leaning over the boatand staring at the death she had made. But a voice crying, "Ally!Ally!" shot to her heart, and springing to her feet she saw a lovelylady come running down the grass to the brink of the water with herhair flying about her head. "Where is my Ally?" she shrieked. But Rosamond could not answer, and only stared at the lady, as shehad before stared at her drowned boy. Then the lady caught sight of the dead thing at the bottom of thewater, and rushed in, and, plunging down, struggled and groped untilshe reached it. Then she rose and stood up with the dead body of herlittle son in her arms, his head hanging back, and the waterstreaming from him. "See what you have made of him, Rosamond!" she said, holding thebody out to her; "and this is your second trial, and also afailure. " The dead child melted away from her arms, and there she stood, thewise woman, on her own hearth, while Rosamond found herself besidethe little well on the floor of the cottage, with one arm wet up tothe shoulder. She threw herself on the heather-bed and wept fromrelief and vexation both. The wise woman walked out of the cottage, shut the door, and lefther alone. Rosamond was sobbing, so that she did not hear her go. When at length she looked up, and saw that the wise woman was gone, her misery returned afresh and tenfold, and she wept and wailed. Thehours passed, the shadows of evening began to fall, and the wisewoman entered. XIII. She went straight to the bed, and taking Rosamond in her arms, satdown with her by the fire. "My poor child!" she said. "Two terrible failures! And the more theharder! They get stronger and stronger. What is to be done?" "Couldn't you help me?" said Rosamond piteously. "Perhaps I could, now you ask me, " answered the wise woman. "Whenyou are ready to try again, we shall see. " "I am very tired of myself, " said the princess. "But I can't resttill I try again. " "That is the only way to get rid of your weary, shadowy self, andfind your strong, true self. Come, my child; I will help you all Ican, for now I CAN help you. " Yet again she led her to the same door, and seemed to the princessto send her yet again alone into the room. She was in a forest, aplace half wild, half tended. The trees were grand, and full of theloveliest birds, of all glowing gleaming and radiant colors, which, unlike the brilliant birds we know in our world, sang deliciously, every one according to his color. The trees were not at all crowded, but their leaves were so thick, and their boughs spread so far, thatit was only here and there a sunbeam could get straight through. Allthe gentle creatures of a forest were there, but no creatures thatkilled, not even a weasel to kill the rabbits, or a beetle to eatthe snails out of their striped shells. As to the butterflies, wordswould but wrong them if they tried to tell how gorgeous they were. The princess's delight was so great that she neither laughed norran, but walked about with a solemn countenance and stately step. "But where are the flowers?" she said to herself at length. They were nowhere. Neither on the high trees, nor on the few shrubsthat grew here and there amongst them, were there any blossoms; andin the grass that grew everywhere there was not a single flower tobe seen. "Ah, well!" said Rosamond again to herself, "where all the birds andbutterflies are living flowers, we can do without the other sort. " Still she could not help feeling that flowers were wanted to makethe beauty of the forest complete. Suddenly she came out on a little open glade; and there, on the rootof a great oak, sat the loveliest little girl, with her lap full offlowers of all colors, but of such kinds as Rosamond had neverbefore seen. She was playing with them--burying her hands in them, tumbling them about, and every now and then picking one from therest, and throwing it away. All the time she never smiled, exceptwith her eyes, which were as full as they could hold of the laughterof the spirit--a laughter which in this world is never heard, onlysets the eyes alight with a liquid shining. Rosamond drew nearer, for the wonderful creature would have drawn a tiger to her side, andtamed him on the way, A few yards from her, she came upon one of hercast-away flowers and stooped to pick it up, as well she might wherenone grew save in her own longing. But to her amazement she found, instead of a flower thrown away to wither, one fast rooted and quiteat home. She left it, and went to another; but it also was fast inthe soil, and growing comfortably in the warm grass. What could itmean? One after another she tried, until at length she was satisfiedthat it was the same with every flower the little girl threw fromher lap. She watched then until she saw her throw one, and instantly boundedto the spot. But the flower had been quicker than she: there itgrew, fast fixed in the earth, and, she thought, looked at herroguishly. Something evil moved in her, and she plucked it. "Don't! don't!" cried the child. "My flowers cannot live in yourhands. " Rosamond looked at the flower. It was withered already. She threw itfrom her, offended. The child rose, with difficulty keeping herlapful together, picked it up, carried it back, sat down again, spoke to it, kissed it, sang to it--oh! such a sweet, childishlittle song!--the princess never could recall a word of it--andthrew it away. Up rose its little head, and there it was, busygrowing again! Rosamond's bad temper soon gave way: the beauty and sweetness of thechild had overcome it; and, anxious to make friends with her, shedrew near, and said: "Won't you give me a little flower, please, you beautiful child?" "There they are; they are all for you, " answered the child, pointingwith her outstretched arm and forefinger all round. "But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them. " "Yes, indeed, I did. " "They can't be mine, if I'm not to touch them. " "If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are notyours, and never, never can be yours. They are nobody's when theyare dead. " "But you don't kill them. " "I don't pull them; I throw them away. I live them. " "How is it that you make them grow?" "I say, 'You darling!' and throw it away and there it is. " "Where do you get them?" "In my lap. " "I wish you would let me throw one away. " "Have you got any in your lap? Let me see. " "No; I have none. " "Then you can't throw one away, if you haven't got one. " "You are mocking me!" cried the princess. "I am not mocking you, " said the child, looking her full in theface, with reproach in her large blue eyes. "Oh, that's where the flowers come from!" said the princess toherself, the moment she saw them, hardly knowing what she meant. Then the child rose as if hurt, and quickly threw away all theflowers she had in her lap, but one by one, and without any sign ofanger. When they were all gone, she stood a moment, and then, in akind of chanting cry, called, two or three times, "Peggy! Peggy!Peggy!" A low, glad cry, like the whinny of a horse, answered, and, presently, out of the wood on the opposite side of the glade, camegently trotting the loveliest little snow-white pony, with greatshining blue wings, half-lifted from his shoulders. Straight towardsthe little girl, neither hurrying nor lingering, he trotted withlight elastic tread. Rosamond's love for animals broke into a perfect passion of delightat the vision. She rushed to meet the pony with such haste, that, although clearly the best trained animal under the sun, he startedback, plunged, reared, and struck out with his fore-feet ere he hadtime to observe what sort of a creature it was that had so startledhim. When he perceived it was a little girl, he dropped instantlyupon all fours, and content with avoiding her, resumed his quiettrot in the direction of his mistress. Rosamond stood gazing afterhim in miserable disappointment. When he reached the child, he laid his head on her shoulder, and sheput her arm up round his neck; and after she had talked to him alittle, he turned and came trotting back to the princess. Almost beside herself with joy, she began caressing him in the roughway which, not-withstanding her love for them, she was in the habitof using with animals; and she was not gentle enough, in herselfeven, to see that be did not like it, and was only putting up withit for the sake of his mistress. But when, that she might jump uponhis back, she laid hold of one of his wings, and ruffled some of theblue feathers, he wheeled suddenly about, gave his long tail a sharpwhisk which threw her flat on the grass, and, trotting back to hismistress, bent down his head before her as if asking excuse forridding himself of the unbearable. The princess was furious. She had forgotten all her past life up tothe time when she first saw the child: her beauty had made herforget, and yet she was now on the very borders of hating her. Whatshe might have done, or rather tried to do, had not Peggy's tailstruck her down with such force that for a moment she could notrise, I cannot tell. But while she lay half-stunned, her eyes fell on a little flowerjust under them. It stared up in her face like the living thing itwas, and she could not take her eyes off its face. It was like aprimrose trying to express doubt instead of confidence. It seemed toput her half in mind of something, and she felt as if shame werecoming. She put out her hand to pluck it; but the moment her fingerstouched it, the flower withered up, and hung as dead on its stalksas if a flame of fire had passed over it. Then a shudder thrilled through the heart of the princess, and shethought with herself, saying--"What sort of a creature am I that theflowers wither when I touch them, and the ponies despise me withtheir tails? What a wretched, coarse, ill-bred creature I must be!There is that lovely child giving life instead of death to theflowers, and a moment ago I was hating her! I am made horrid, and Ishall be horrid, and I hate myself, and yet I can't help beingmyself!" She heard the sound of galloping feet, and there was the pony, withthe child seated betwixt his wings, coming straight on at full speedfor where she lay. "I don't care, " she said. "They may trample me under their feet ifthey like. I am tired and sick of myself--a creature at whose touchthe flowers wither!" On came the winged pony. But while yet some distance off, he gave agreat bound, spread out his living sails of blue, rose yards andyards above her in the air, and alighted as gently as a bird, just afew feet on the other side of her. The child slipped down and cameand kneeled over her. "Did my pony hurt you?" she said. "I am so sorry!" "Yes, he hurt me, " answered the princess, "but not more than Ideserved, for I took liberties with him, and he did not like it. " "Oh, you dear!" said the little girl. "I love you for talking so ofmy Peggy. He is a good pony, though a little playful sometimes. Would you like a ride upon him?" "You darling beauty!" cried Rosamond, sobbing. "I do love you so, you are so good. How did you become so sweet?" "Would you like to ride my pony?" repeated the child, with aheavenly smile in her eyes. "No, no; he is fit only for you. My clumsy body would hurt him, "said Rosamond. "You don't mind me having such a pony?" said the child. "What! mind it?" cried Rosamond, almost indignantly. Thenremembering certain thoughts that had but a few moments beforepassed through her mind, she looked on the ground and was silent. "You don't mind it, then?" repeated the child. "I am very glad there is such a you and such a pony, and that such ayou has got such a pony, " said Rosamond, still looking on theground. "But I do wish the flowers would not die when I touch them. I was cross to see you make them grow, but now I should be contentif only I did not make them wither. " As she spoke, she stroked the little girl's bare feet, which were byher, half buried in the soft moss, and as she ended she laid hercheek on them and kissed them. "Dear princess!" said the little girl, "the flowers will not alwayswither at your touch. Try now--only do not pluck it. Flowers oughtnever to be plucked except to give away. Touch it gently. " A silvery flower, something like a snow-drop, grew just within herreach. Timidly she stretched out her hand and touched it. The flowertrembled, but neither shrank nor withered. "Touch it again, " said the child. It changed color a little, and Rosamond fancied it grew larger. "Touch it again, " said the child. It opened and grew until it was as large as a narcissus, and changedand deepened in color till it was a red glowing gold. Rosamond gazed motionless. When the transfiguration of the flowerwas perfected, she sprang to her feet with clasped hands, but forvery ecstasy of joy stood speechless, gazing at the child. "Did you never see me before, Rosamond?" she asked. "No, never, " answered the princess. "I never saw any thing half solovely. " "Look at me, " said the child. And as Rosamond looked, the child began, like the flower, to growlarger. Quickly through every gradation of growth she passed, untilshe stood before her a woman perfectly beautiful, neither old noryoung; for hers was the old age of everlasting youth. Rosamond was utterly enchanted, and stood gazing without word ormovement until she could endure no more delight. Then her mindcollapsed to the thought--had the pony grown too? She glanced round. There was no pony, no grass, no flowers, no bright-birdedforest--but the cottage of the wise woman--and before her, on thehearth of it, the goddess-child, the only thing unchanged. She gasped with astonishment. "You must set out for your father's palace immediately, " said thelady. "But where is the wise woman?" asked Rosamond, looking all about. "Here, " said the lady. And Rosamond, looking again, saw the wise woman, folded as usual inher long dark cloak. "And it was you all the time?" she cried in delight, and kneeledbefore her, burying her face in her garments. "It always is me, all the time, " said the wise woman, smiling. "But which is the real you?" asked Rosamond; "this or that?" "Or a thousand others?" returned the wise woman. "But the one youhave just seen is the likest to the real me that you are able to seejust yet--but--. And that me you could not have seen a little whileago. --But, my darling child, " she went on, lifting her up andclasping her to her bosom, "you must not think, because you haveseen me once, that therefore you are capable of seeing me at alltimes. No; there are many things in you yet that must be changedbefore that can be. Now, however, you will seek me. Every time youfeel you want me, that is a sign I am wanting you. There are yetmany rooms in my house you may have to go through; but when you needno more of them, then you will be able to throw flowers like thelittle girl you saw in the forest. " The princess gave a sigh. "Do not think, " the wise woman went on, "that the things you haveseen in my house are mere empty shows. You do not know, you cannotyet think, how living and true they are. --Now you must go. " She led her once more into the great hall, and there showed her thepicture of her father's capital, and his palace with the brazengates. "There is your home, " she said. "Go to it. " The princess understood, and a flush of shame rose to her forehead. She turned to the wise woman and said: "Will you forgive ALL my naughtiness, and ALL the trouble I havegiven you?" "If I had not forgiven you, I would never have taken the trouble topunish you. If I had not loved you, do you think I would havecarried you away in my cloak?" "How could you love such an ugly, ill-tempered, rude, hatefullittle wretch?" "I saw, through it all, what you were going to be, " said the wisewoman, kissing her. "But remember you have yet only BEGUN to be whatI saw. " "I will try to remember, " said the princess, holding her cloak, andlooking up in her face. "Go, then, " said the wise woman. Rosamond turned away on the instant, ran to the picture, steppedover the frame of it, heard a door close gently, gave one glanceback, saw behind her the loveliest palace-front of alabaster, gleaming in the pale-yellow light of an early summer-morning, lookedagain to the eastward, saw the faint outline of her father's cityagainst the sky, and ran off to reach it. It looked much further off now than when it seemed a picture, butthe sun was not yet up, and she had the whole of a summer day beforeher. XIV. The soldiers sent out by the king, had no great difficulty infinding Agnes's father and mother, of whom they demanded if theyknew any thing of such a young princess as they described. Thehonest pair told them the truth in every point--that, having losttheir own child and found another, they had taken her home, andtreated her as their own; that she had indeed called herself aprincess, but they had not believed her, because she did not looklike one; that, even if they had, they did not know how they couldhave done differently, seeing they were poor people, who could notafford to keep any idle person about the place; that they had donetheir best to teach her good ways, and had not parted with her untilher bad temper rendered it impossible to put up with her any longer;that, as to the king's proclamation, they heard little of theworld's news on their lonely hill, and it had never reached them;that if it had, they did not know how either of them could have gonesuch a distance from home, and left their sheep or their cottage, one or the other, uncared for. "You must learn, then, how both of you can go, and your sheep musttake care of your cottage, " said the lawyer, and commanded thesoldiers to bind them hand and foot. Heedless of their entreaties to be spared such an indignity, thesoldiers obeyed, bore them to a cart, and set out for the king'spalace, leaving the cottage door open, the fire burning, the pot ofpotatoes boiling upon it, the sheep scattered over the hill, and thedogs not knowing what to do. Hardly were they gone, however, before the wise woman walked up, with Prince behind her, peeped into the cottage, locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and then walked away up the hill. In afew minutes there arose a great battle between Prince and the dogwhich filled his former place--a well-meaning but dull fellow, whocould fight better than feed. Prince was not long in showing himthat he was meant for his master, and then, by his efforts, anddirections to the other dogs, the sheep were soon gathered again, and out of danger from foxes and bad dogs. As soon as this was done, the wise woman left them in charge of Prince, while she went to thenext farm to arrange for the folding of the sheep and the feeding ofthe dogs. When the soldiers reached the palace, they were ordered to carrytheir prisoners at once into the presence of the king and queen, inthe throne room. Their two thrones stood upon a high dais at oneend, and on the floor at the foot of the dais, the soldiers laidtheir helpless prisoners. The queen commanded that they should beunbound, and ordered them to stand up. They obeyed with the dignityof insulted innocence, and their bearing offended their foolishmajesties. Meantime the princess, after a long day's journey, arrived at thepalace, and walked up to the sentry at the gate. "Stand back, " said the sentry. "I wish to go in, if you please, " said the princess gently. "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the sentry, for he was one of those dullpeople who form their judgment from a person's clothes, without evenlooking in his eyes; and as the princess happened to be in rags, herrequest was amusing, and the booby thought himself quite clever forlaughing at her so thoroughly. "I am the princess, " Rosamond said quietly. "WHAT princess?" bellowed the man. "The princess Rosamond. Is there another?" she answered and asked. But the man was so tickled at the wondrous idea of a princess inrags, that he scarcely heard what she said for laughing. As soon ashe recovered a little, he proceeded to chuck the princess under thechin, saying-- "You're a pretty girl, my dear, though you ain't no princess. " Rosamond drew back with dignity. "You have spoken three untruths at once, " she said. "I am NOTpretty, and I AM a princess, and if I were dear to you, as I oughtto be, you would not laugh at me because I am badly dressed, butstand aside, and let me go to my father and mother. " The tone of her speech, and the rebuke she gave him, made the manlook at her; and looking at her, he began to tremble inside hisfoolish body, and wonder whether he might not have made a mistake. He raised his hand in salute, and said-- "I beg your pardon, miss, but I have express orders to admit nochild whatever within the palace gates. They tell me his majesty theking says he is sick of children. " "He may well be sick of me!" thought the princess; "but it can'tmean that he does not want me home again. --I don't think you canvery well call me a child, " she said, looking the sentry full in theface. "You ain't very big, miss, " answered the soldier, "but so be you sayyou ain't a child, I'll take the risk. The king can only kill me, and a man must die once. " He opened the gate, stepped aside, and allowed her to pass. Had shelost her temper, as every one but the wise woman would have expectedof her, he certainly would not have done so. She ran into the palace, the door of which had been left open by theporter when he followed the soldiers and prisoners to thethrone-room, and bounded up the stairs to look for her father andmother. As she passed the door of the throne-room she heard anunusual noise in it, and running to the king's private entrance, over which hung a heavy curtain, she peeped past the edge of it, andsaw, to her amazement, the shepherd and shepherdess standing likeculprits before the king and queen, and the same moment heard theking say-- "Peasants, where is the princess Rosamond?" "Truly, sire, we do not know, " answered the shepherd. "You ought to know, " said the king. "Sire, we could keep her no longer. " "You confess, then, " said the king, suppressing the outbreak of thewrath that boiled up in him, "that you turned her out of yourhouse. " For the king had been informed by a swift messenger of all that hadpassed long before the arrival of the prisoners. "We did, sire; but not only could we keep her no longer, but we knewnot that she was the princess. " "You ought to have known, the moment you cast your eyes upon her, "said the king. "Any one who does not know a princess the moment hesees her, ought to have his eyes put out. " "Indeed he ought, " said the queen. To this they returned no answer, for they had none ready. "Why did you not bring her at once to the palace, " pursued the king, "whether you knew her to be a princess or not? My proclamation leftnothing to your judgment. It said EVERY CHILD. " "We heard nothing of the proclamation, sire. " "You ought to have heard, " said the king. "It is enough that I makeproclamations; it is for you to read them. Are they not written inletters of gold upon the brazen gates of this palace?" "A poor shepherd, your majesty--how often must he leave his flock, and go hundreds of miles to look whetner there may not be somethingin letters of gold upon the brazen gates? We did not know that yourmajesty had made a proclamation, or even that the princess waslost. " "You ought to have known, " said the king. The shepherd held his peace. "But, " said the queen, taking up the word, "all that is as nothing, when I think how you misused the darling. " The only ground the queen had for saying thus, was what Agnes hadtold her as to how the princess was dressed; and her conditionseemed to the queen so miserable, that she had imagined all sorts ofoppression and cruelty. But this was more than the shepherdess, who had not yet spoken, could bear. "She would have been dead, and NOT buried, long ago, madam, if I hadnot carried her home in my two arms. " "Why does she say her TWO arms?" said the king to himself. "Has shemore than two? Is there treason in that?" "You dressed her in cast-off clothes, " said the queen. "I dressed her in my own sweet child's Sunday clothes. And this iswhat I get for it!" cried the shepherdess, bursting into tears. "And what did you do with the clothes you took off her? Sell them?" "Put them in the fire, madam. They were not fit for the poorestchild in the mountains. They were so ragged that you could see herskin through them in twenty different places. " "You cruel woman, to torture a mother's feelings so!" cried thequeen, and in her turn burst into tears. "And I'm sure, " sobbed the shepherdess, "I took every pains to teachher what it was right for her to know. I taught her to tidy thehouse and"-- "Tidy the house!" moaned the queen. "My poor wretched offspring!" "And peel the potatoes, and"-- "Peel the potatoes!" cried the queen. "Oh, horror!" "And black her master's boots, " said the shepherdess. "Black her master's boots!" shrieked the queen. "Oh, my white-handedprincess! Oh, my ruined baby!" "What I want to know, " said the king, paying no heed to thismaternal duel, but patting the top of his sceptre as if it had beenthe hilt of a sword which he was about to draw, "is, where theprincess is now. " The shepherd made no answer, for he had nothing to say more than hehad said already. "You have murdered her!" shouted the king. "You shall be torturedtill you confess the truth; and then you shall be tortured to death, for you are the most abominable wretches in the whole wide world. " "Who accuses me of crime?" cried the shepherd, indignant. "I accuse you, " said the king; "but you shall see, face to face, thechief witness to your villany. Officer, bring the girl. " Silence filled the hall while they waited. The king's face wasswollen with anger. The queen hid hers behind her handkerchief. Theshepherd and shepherdess bent their eyes on the ground, wondering. It was with difficulty Rosamond could keep her place, but so wisehad she already become that she saw it would be far better to letevery thing come out before she interfered. At length the door opened, and in came the officer, followed byAgnes, looking white as death and mean as sin. The shepherdess gave a shriek, and darted towards her with armsspread wide; the shepherd followed, but not so eagerly. "My child! my lost darling! my Agnes!" cried the shepherdess. "Hold them asunder, " shouted the king. "Here is more villany! What!have I a scullery-maid in my house born of such parents? The parentsof such a child must be capable of any thing. Take all three of themto the rack. Stretch them till their joints are torn asunder, andgive them no water. Away with them!" The soldiers approached to lay hands on them. But, behold! a girlall in rags, with such a radiant countenance that it was rightlovely to see, darted between, and careless of the royal presence, flung herself upon the shepherdess, crying, -- "Do not touch her. She is my good, kind mistress. " But the shepherdess could hear or see no one but her Agnes, andpushed her away. Then the princess turned, with the tears in hereyes, to the shepherd, and threw her arms about his neck and pulleddown his head and kissed him. And the tall shepherd lifted her tohis bosom and kept her there, but his eyes were fixed on his Agnes. "What is the meaning of this?" cried the king, starting up from histhrone. "How did that ragged girl get in here? Take her away withthe rest. She is one of them, too. " But the princess made the shepherd set her down, and before any onecould interfere she had run up the steps of the dais and then thesteps of the king's throne like a squirrel, flung herself upon theking, and begun to smother him with kisses. All stood astonished, except the three peasants, who did not evensee what took place. The shepherdess kept calling to her Agnes, butshe was so ashamed that she did not dare even lift her eyes to meether mother's, and the shepherd kept gazing on her in silence. As forthe king, he was so breathless and aghast with astonishment, that hewas too feeble to fling the ragged child from him, as he tried todo. But she left him, and running down the steps of the one throneand up those of the other, began kissing the queen next. But thequeen cried out, -- "Get away, you great rude child!--Will nobody take her to the rack?" Then the princess, hardly knowing what she did for joy that she hadcome in time, ran down the steps of the throne and the dais, andplacing herself between the shepherd and shepherdess, took a hand ofeach, and stood looking at the king and queen. Their faces began to change. At last they began to know her. But shewas so altered--so lovelily altered, that it was no wonder theyshould not have known her at the first glance; but it was the faultof the pride and anger and injustice with which their hearts werefilled, that they did not know her at the second. The king gazed and the queen gazed, both half risen from theirthrones, and looking as if about to tumble down upon her, if onlythey could be right sure that the ragged girl was their own child. Amistake would be such a dreadful thing! "My darling!" at last shrieked the mother, a little doubtfully. "My pet of pets?" cried the father, with an interrogative twist oftone. Another moment, and they were half way down the steps of the dais. "Stop!" said a voice of command from somewhere in the hall, and, king and queen as they were, they stopped at once half way, thendrew themselves up, stared, and began to grow angry again, but durstnot go farther. The wise woman was coming slowly up through the crowd that filledthe hall. Every one made way for her. She came straight on until shestood in front of the king and queen. "Miserable man and woman!" she said, in words they alone could hear, "I took your daughter away when she was worthy of such parents; Ibring her back, and they are unworthy of her. That you did not knowher when she came to you is a small wonder, for you have been blindin soul all your lives: now be blind in body until your better eyesare unsealed. " She threw her cloak open. It fell to the ground, and the radiancethat flashed from her robe of snowy whiteness, from her face ofawful beauty, and from her eyes that shone like pools of sunlight, smote them blind. Rosamond saw them give a great start, shudder, waver to and fro, then sit down on the steps of the dais; and she knew they werepunished, but knew not how. She rushed up to them, and catching ahand of each said-- "Father, dear father! mother dear! I will ask the wise woman toforgive you. " "Oh, I am blind! I am blind!" they cried together. "Dark as night!Stone blind!" Rosamond left them, sprang down the steps, and kneeling at her feet, cried, "Oh, my lovely wise woman! do let them see. Do open theireyes, dear, good, wise woman. " The wise woman bent down to her, and said, so that none else couldhear, "I will one day. Meanwhile you must be their servant, as Ihave been yours. Bring them to me, and I will make them welcome. " Rosamond rose, went up the steps again to her father and mother, where they sat like statues with closed eyes, half-way from the topof the dais where stood their empty thrones, seated herself betweenthem, took a hand of each, and was still. All this time very few in the room saw the wise woman. The momentshe threw off her cloak she vanished from the sight of almost allwho were present. The woman who swept and dusted the hall andbrushed the thrones, saw her, and the shepherd had a glimmeringvision of her; but no one else that I know of caught a glimpse ofher. The shepherdess did not see her. Nor did Agnes, but she felther presence upon her like the beat of a furnace seven times heated. As soon as Rosamond had taken her place between her father andmother, the wise woman lifted her cloak from the floor, and threw itagain around her. Then everybody saw her, and Agnes felt as if asoft dewy cloud had come between her and the torrid rays of avertical sun. The wise woman turned to the shepherd and shepherdess. "For you, " she said, "you are sufficiently punished by the work ofyour own hands. Instead of making your daughter obey you, you lefther to be a slave to herself; you coaxed when you ought to havecompelled; you praised when you ought to have been silent; youfondled when you ought to have punished; you threatened when youought to have inflicted--and there she stands, the full-grown resultof your foolishness! She is your crime and your punishment. Take herhome with you, and live hour after hour with the pale-hearteddisgrace you call your daughter. What she is, the worm at her hearthas begun to teach her. When life is no longer endurable, come tome. "Madam, " said the shepherd, "may I not go with you now?" "You shall, " said the wise woman. "Husband! husband!" cried the shepherdess, "how are we two to gethome without you?" "I will see to that, " said the wise woman. "But little of home youwill find it until you have come to me. The king carried you hither, and he shall carry you back. But your husband shall not go with you. He cannot now if he would. " The shepherdess looked and saw that the shepherd stood in a deepsleep. She went to him and sought to rouse him, but neither tonguenor hands were of the slightest avail. The wise woman turned to Rosamond. "My child, " she said, "I shall never be far from you. Come to mewhen you will. Bring them to me. " Rosamond smiled and kissed her hand, but kept her place by herparents. They also were now in a deep sleep like the shepherd. The wise woman took the shepherd by the hand, and led him away. And that is all my double story. How double it is, if you care toknow, you must find out. If you think it is not finished--I neverknew a story that was. I could tell you a great deal more concerningthem all, but I have already told more than is good for those whoread but with their foreheads, and enough for those whom it has madelook a little solemn, and sigh as they close the book.