Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 01 (30 page)

The Captain of the Guard begged Miranda to come
down into the garden where the King was enjoying the
fresh air, and when they got there, he pretended to search
for him, but as he was not to be found, he said:

"No doubt his Majesty has strolled into the forest,"
and he opened the little door that led to it and they went
through.

By this time the daylight had begun to appear, and
the Princess, looking at her conductor, saw that he had
tears in his eyes and seemed too sad to speak.

"What is the matter?" she said in the kindest way.
"You seem very sorrowful."

"Alas! Princess," he answered, "who would not be
sorrowful who was ordered to do such a terrible thing as
I am? The King has commanded me to kill you here,
and carry your heart and your tongue to him, and if I
disobey I shall lose my life."

The poor Princess was terrified, she grew very pale and
began to cry softly.

Looking up at the Captain of the Guard with her
beautiful eyes, she said gently:

Will you really have the heart to kill me? I have
never done you any harm, and have always spoken well
of you to the King. If I had deserved my father's anger
I would suffer without a murmur, but, alas! he is unjust
to complain of me, when I have always treated him with
love and respect."

"Fear nothing, Princess," said the Captain of the
Guard. "I would far rather die myself than hurt you;
but even if I am killed you will not be safe: we must find
some way of making the King believe that you are dead."

"What can we do?" said Miranda; "unless you take
him my heart and my tongue he will never believe you."

The Princess and the Captain of the Guard were talking
so earnestly that they did not think of Patypata,
but she had overheard all they said, and now came and
threw herself at Miranda's feet.

"Madam," she said, "I offer you my life; let me be
killed, I shall be only too happy to die for such a kind
mistress."

"Why, Patypata," cried the Princess, kissing her,
"that would never do; your life is as precious to me as
my own, especially after such a proof of your affection
as you have just given me."

"You are right, Princess," said Grabugeon, coming
forward, "to love such a faithful slave as Patypata; she
is of more use to you than I am, I offer you my tongue
and my heart most willingly, especially as I wish to
make a great name for myself in Goblin Land."

"No, no, my little Grabugeon," replied Miranda, "I
cannot bear the thought of taking your life."

"Such a good little dog as I am," cried Tintin, "could
not think of letting either of you die for his mistress. If
anyone is to die for her it must be me."

And then began a great dispute between Patypata,
Grabugeon, and Tintin, and they came to high words,
until at last Grabugeon, who was quicker than the
others, ran up to the very top of the nearest tree, and
let herself fall, head first, to the ground, and there she
lay—quite dead!

The Princess was very sorry, but as Grabugeon was
really dead, she allowed the Captain of the Guard to
take her tongue; but, alas! it was such a little one—not
bigger than the Princess's thumb—that they decided
sorrowfully that it was of no use at all: the King would
not have been taken in by it for a moment!

"Alas! my little monkey," cried the Princess, "I have
lost you, and yet I am no better off than I was before."

"The honor of saving your life is to be mine,"
interrupted Patypata, and, before they could prevent her,
she had picked up a knife and cut her head off in an instant.

But when the Captain of the Guard would have taken
her tongue it turned out to be quite black, so that would
not have deceived the King either.

"Am I not unlucky?" cried the poor Princess; "I lose
everything I love, and am none the better for it."

"If you had accepted my offer," said Tintin, "you
would only have had me to regret, and I should have had
all your gratitude."

Miranda kissed her little dog, crying so bitterly, that
at last she could bear it no longer, and turned away into
the forest. When she looked back the Captain of the
Guard was gone, and she was alone, except for Patypata,
Grabugeon, and Tintin, who lay upon the ground. She
could not leave the place until she had buried them in a
pretty little mossy grave at the foot of a tree, and she
wrote their names upon the bark of the tree, and how
they had all died to save her life. And then she began
to think where she could go for safety—for this forest
was so close to her father's castle that she might be seen
and recognized by the first passer-by, and, besides that,
it was full of lions and wolves, who would have snapped
up a princess just as soon as a stray chicken. So she
began to walk as fast as she could, but the forest was so
large and the sun was so hot that she nearly died of heat
and terror and fatigue; look which way she would there
seemed to be no end to the forest, and she was so frightened
that she fancied every minute that she heard the
King running after her to kill her. You may imagine
how miserable she was, and how she cried as she went
on, not knowing which path to follow, and with the
thorny bushes scratching her dreadfully and tearing her
pretty frock to pieces.

At last she heard the bleating of a sheep, and said to
herself:

"No doubt there are shepherds here with their flocks;
they will show me the way to some village where I can
live disguised as a peasant girl. Alas! it is not always
kings and princes who are the happiest people in the
world. Who could have believed that I should ever be
obliged to run away and hide because the King, for no
reason at all, wishes to kill me?"

So saying she advanced toward the place where she
heard the bleating, but what was her surprise when, in a
lovely little glade quite surrounded by trees, she saw a
large sheep; its wool was as white as snow, and its horns
shone like gold; it had a garland of flowers round its
neck, and strings of great pearls about its legs, and a
collar of diamonds; it lay upon a bank of orange-flowers,
under a canopy of cloth of gold which protected it from
the heat of the sun. Nearly a hundred other sheep were
scattered about, not eating the grass, but some drinking
coffee, lemonade, or sherbet, others eating ices,
strawberries and cream, or sweetmeats, while others, again,
were playing games. Many of them wore golden collars
with jewels, flowers, and ribbons.

Miranda stopped short in amazement at this unexpected
sight, and was looking in all directions for the
shepherd of this surprising flock, when the beautiful
sheep came bounding toward her.

"Approach, lovely Princess," he cried; "have no fear
of such gentle and peaceable animals as we are."

"What a marvel!" cried the Princess, starting back a
little. "Here is a sheep that can talk."

"Your monkey and your dog could talk, madam," said
he; "are you more astonished at us than at them?"

"A fairy gave them the power to speak," replied
Miranda. "So I was used to them."

"Perhaps the same thing has happened to us," he said,
smiling sheepishly. "But, Princess, what can have led
you here?"

"A thousand misfortunes, Sir Sheep," she answered.

"I am the unhappiest princess in the world, and I am
seeking a shelter against my father's anger."

"Come with me, madam," said the Sheep; "I offer you
a hiding-place which you only will know of, and where
you will be mistress of everything you see."

"I really cannot follow you," said Miranda, "for I am
too tired to walk another step."

The Sheep with the golden horns ordered that his
chariot should be fetched, and a moment after appeared
six goats, harnessed to a pumpkin, which was so big that
two people could quite well sit in it, and was all lined
with cushions of velvet and down. The Princess stepped
into it, much amused at such a new kind of carriage, the
King of the Sheep took his place beside her, and the
goats ran away with them at full speed, and only stopped
when they reached a cavern, the entrance to which was
blocked by a great stone. This the King touched with
his foot, and immediately it fell down, and he invited
the Princess to enter without fear. Now, if she had not
been so alarmed by everything that had happened, nothing
could have induced her to go into this frightful cave,
but she was so afraid of what might be behind her that
she would have thrown herself even down a well at this
moment. So, without hesitation, she followed the Sheep,
who went before her, down, down, down, until she
thought they must come out at the other side of the
world—indeed, she was not sure that he wasn't leading
her into Fairyland. At last she saw before her a great
plain, quite covered with all sorts of flowers, the scent of
which seemed to her nicer than anything she had ever
smelled before; a broad river of orange-flower water
flowed round it and fountains of wine of every kind ran
in all directions and made the prettiest little cascades and
brooks. The plain was covered with the strangest trees,
there were whole avenues where partridges, ready
roasted, hung from every branch, or, if you preferred
pheasants, quails, turkeys, or rabbits, you had only to
turn to the right hand or to the left and you were sure to
find them. In places the air was darkened by showers
of lobster-patties, white puddings, sausages, tarts, and
all sorts of sweetmeats, or with pieces of gold and silver,
diamonds and pearls. This unusual kind of rain, and
the pleasantness of the whole place, would, no doubt,
have attracted numbers of people to it, if the King of the
Sheep had been of a more sociable disposition, but from
all accounts it is evident that he was as grave as a judge.

As it was quite the nicest time of the year when
Miranda arrived in this delightful land the only palace she
saw was a long row of orange trees, jasmines, honeysuckles,
and musk-roses, and their interlacing branches
made the prettiest rooms possible, which were hung with
gold and silver gauze, and had great mirrors and
candlesticks, and most beautiful pictures. The Wonderful
Sheep begged that the Princess would consider herself
queen over all that she saw, and assured her that, though
for some years he had been very sad and in great trouble,
she had it in her power to make him forget all his grief.

"You are so kind and generous, noble Sheep," said the
Princess, "that I cannot thank you enough, but I must
confess that all I see here seems to me so extraordinary
that I don't know what to think of it."

As she spoke a band of lovely fairies came up and
offered her amber baskets full of fruit, but when she held
out her hands to them they glided away, and she could
feel nothing when she tried to touch them.

"Oh!" she cried, "what can they be? Whom am I
with?" and she began to cry.

At this instant the King of the Sheep came back to
her, and was so distracted to find her in tears that he
could have torn his wool.

"What is the matter, lovely Princess?" he cried. "Has
anyone failed to treat you with due respect?"

"Oh! no," said Miranda; "only I am not used to living
with sprites and with sheep that talk, and everything
here frightens me. It was very kind of you to bring
me to this place, but I shall be even more grateful to you
if you will take me up into the world again."

"Do not be afraid," said the Wonderful Sheep; "I
entreat you to have patience, and listen to the story of
my misfortunes. I was once a king, and my kingdom
was the most splendid in the world. My subjects loved
me, my neighbors envied and feared me. I was respected
by everyone, and it was said that no king ever
deserved it more.

"I was very fond of hunting, and one day, while chasing
a stag, I left my attendants far behind; suddenly I
saw the animal leap into a pool of water, and I rashly
urged my horse to follow it, but before we had gone many
steps I felt an extraordinary heat, instead of the coolness
of the water; the pond dried up, a great gulf opened
before me, out of which flames of fire shot up, and I fell
helplessly to the bottom of a precipice.

"I gave myself up for lost, but presently a voice said:
'Ungrateful Prince, even this fire is hardly enough to
warm your cold heart!'

"'Who complains of my coldness in this dismal place?'
I cried.

"'An unhappy being who loves you hopelessly,'
replied the voice, and at the same moment the flames began
to flicker and cease to burn, and I saw a fairy, whom I
had known as long as I could remember, and whose ugliness
had always horrified me. She was leaning upon the
arm of a most beautiful young girl, who wore chains of
gold on her wrists and was evidently her slave.

"'Why, Ragotte,' I said, for that was the fairy's name,
'what is the meaning of all this? Is it by your orders
that I am here?'

"'And whose fault is it,' she answered, 'that you have
never understood me until now? Must a powerful fairy
like myself condescend to explain her doings to you who
are no better than an ant by comparison, though you
think yourself a great king?'

"'Call me what you like,' I said impatiently; 'but
what is it that you want—my crown, or my cities, or my
treasures?'

"'Treasures!' said the fairy, disdainfully. 'If I chose
I could make any one of my scullions richer and more
powerful than you. I do not want your treasures, but,'
she added softly, 'if you will give me your heart—if you
will marry me—I will add twenty kingdoms to the one
you have already; you shall have a hundred castles full of
gold and five hundred full of silver, and, in short,
anything you like to ask me for.'

"'Madam Ragotte,' said I, 'when one is at the bottom
of a pit where one has fully expected to be roasted alive,
it is impossible to think of asking such a charming person
as you are to marry one! I beg that you will set me
at liberty, and then I shall hope to answer you fittingly.'