Fairy Book by Sophie May (the reading list .TXT) 📕
Cristobal repeated the words, a soft light stealing over his face. "I will remember," he said, looking up to meet the pleading eyes of the Child: but, lo! the whole face had melted into the aureola; nothing was left but light. Yet Cristobal was filled with a new joy; and, as he opened his eyes, his dream--if dream it were--changed, becoming as sweet and solemn as a prayer. It seemed to him that the roof of the cottage glittered with stars, and was no longer a roof, but the boundless sky; and, afar off, like remembered music, a voice fell on his ear, "For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you your trespasses."
Cristobal arose, and, although still blind, walked in light. "It is the aureola which has stolen into my heart," thought Cristobal. "The pain and hate are all gone. Now I am ready for Christmas. I wish I could help poor Jasper, who has such a weight of
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You must know that Gerula was one of the most wicked and hideous sprites that ever existed. She dwelt in a cave far from the abodes of men. It was hidden by huge trees through which the wind never ceased howling. At evening owls hooted overhead, and many creeping things wound their length along the ground. The more toads and snakes she could see about her, the better was she pleased; for fairies, as well as mortals, are attracted by what is akin to themselves.
She was descended from a race called kobolds or goblins; and she loved all the metals which lie under the earth as well as the living things which crawl up out of its bosom.
So acute were her ears, that she heard Zora’s steps from a great distance. She brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low grunt like some wild beast. It pleased her that the Lady Zora should find need of her counsel; but, when Zora had reached the cave, the cunning fairy pretended to be sleeping, and started up in seeming surprise.
“What brings a body here at this time of night?” said she.
“I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet fairy, to beg a favor. The Princess Hilda is hateful to me: work one of your charms on her, and let me see her face no more.”
The old fairy pricked up her ears and said to herself, “Ha! ha! I will have nice sport out o’ this!” then said aloud, “Say, what harm has the princess done to my rosebud, my lily, my pride?”
Zora’s eyes flashed. “Prince Reginald has seen her; and to see her is to love her. My heart is set on wedding Prince Reginald. Take her out of his way!”
Just then a broad gleam of moonlight fell on the treacherous maiden. It was strange how much she looked like the cruel fairy; and Gerula gazed on her with delight.
“My beautiful viper!” said she, using the sweetest pet-name she could think of, “I will do your bidding. But first say what you will give me if I put Hildegarde out of your way.”
Then she chuckled, and rubbed her hands in great glee. Zora started back in alarm.
“I did not know you sold your charms for gold; but I would give you half my fortune if need be, any thing, to be rid of Hilda.”
The fairy chuckled again. “Just the damsel for me,” thought she.
“I will give you a diamond necklace,” said Zora: “it is worth a small kingdom, and was given me by my cousin Hilda. You can surely ask no more?”
“Diamonds!” said the goblin, snapping her fingers. “What think you I care for them? Do I not tire of stooping to pick them up? for they are given me by my cousins, the gnomes, any day. No diamonds for me! Keep them and your gold. I ask but one thing, my dear.”
Here she spoke in low hissing tones, more terrible than her loudest croakings.
“Promise me, if you do not marry Prince Reginald, you will let me change you into a charming green snake.”
“Alas!” cried Zora, turning pale, “who ever heard of such a cruel request?”
“Cruel, am I?” said the goblin in delight. “Oh, I must seem cruel to one who is so gentle and lovely as Hilda!”
“Alas,” cried Zora, “I may fail to win Prince Reginald.”
“All the better,” chuckled the fairy. “When you become a snake, you and I shall enjoy each other’s society, I assure you.”
Zora shuddered.
“But it’s all one to me,” added the goblin, beginning to yawn. “On the whole, I think you may as well go home.”
Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.
“Yes,” said the gnome: “go back to the castle. Ugh! I would sooner trust one of my winking owls to do a daring deed than you! Fie upon you! Creep back to your bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a lovely pair they will make. Off with you, for I have to make up my sleep I have lost.”
But Zora was thinking.
“I am silly indeed!” she said to herself. “Why do I fear that I shall not win the love of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in my way.” Then she said aloud,—
“Lovely being! sweetest of all the race! Great as is my horror, I will consent to your will.”
Just then was heard a crackling in the dry leaves.
“Only a snake,” said the goblin. Zora trembled.
“Will you promise me that Hilda will never trouble me again?”
“I promise,” said the goblin, with one of her merriest laughs, as loud and hoarse as the song of a frog.
Just then a sigh was heard not far from the place where Zora stood. “There is some one here: we are watched,” she whispered. But Gerula thought it the howling of the wind; for she was busily musing over the charm she was about to obtain of her cousins, the gnomes, and her eyes and ears were not as sharp as usual.
She took from the ground her crooked staff.
“Hush,” said she; “if the sky were to fall on your head, you are not to speak; for now begins the charm.”
Then she drew a circle three times on the ground, with her staff, and said in low tones,—
The princess is young and fair;
Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe
Spin me your vilest snare.”
A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim figures, one after another. Zora held her breath. Gerula muttered again in low tones,—
The little gnomes sit and weep;
‘Make her,—if must be,—a snowy wee lamb,
In the fold with her father’s sheep.’”
Zora clapped her hands in delight. But just then, a faint sound was heard, as of some one talking between the teeth. Then Zora spoke, and the charm was broken. She did not intend to speak; but asked, “What noise was that?” before she thought.
“You have broken the charm,” said the fairy. “The soft-hearted gnomes are unwilling to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my craft, I could force them to keep her a lamb forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a sheep, and die by the knife.
“I will now weave a new charm; but I fear me they will repent; and Hilda will not be got out of the way, after all. Not a word more, I warn you.”
So saying, the goblin made another circle three times, on the ground, and again muttered,—
The little gnomes cry, ‘We fear
Till comes a brave lion so tender and true,
She lives by his side a year.’”
Zora clapped her hands again. “That is well,” said she, “for never was a lion seen who could let a little helpless lamb pass his way without tearing it in pieces.”
“True,” said the gnome, well pleased, “it has worked well. Hilda will never trouble you again: so creep home softly, and go to your rest: dream of bats and creeping snakes; and to-morrow, at sunrise, ask your cousin to walk with you in the park. Now adieu!”
“Adieu, sweetest and best of fairies!” said Zora, drawing her silken mantle closely about her face. As she left the hideous cave, snakes hissed after her, and a bat flew in her face; but she had sold herself to evil, and walked on without fear of the creatures she so strongly resembled.
Next morning, at the first peep of the sun, she cried, “Awake, dearest Hilda, joy of my life, and walk with me in the park. I have lost my diamond necklace; and last night I dreamed it was lying in the grass.”
So Princess Hildegarde opened her eyes, and hastened to follow her cousin; for her heart was quickly moved to any act of kindness.
“What a fine flock of sheep!” cried Hilda, as they were walking in the park. “Such innocent”——
She would have said more, but the words on her tongue were suddenly changed to tender bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking at her, she crouched down on all fours, dwindled in size, was enveloped in white fleece, and became a dumb lamb.
Overwhelmed with horror and surprise, she raised her pleading, tearful eyes to the face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking laugh, and said, pointing her finger at her,—
“Who now is the heir of the throne? Will they set the royal crown on a sheep’s head, think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You may stand now between me and Prince Reginald as much as you please. It’s all my work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde.”
Was this Zora’s return for her cousin’s love? The princess would fain have expressed her grief and amazement.
“Pray don’t try to talk, my bonny wee thing! It is not one of your gifts, at present. Your voice has ceased to be musical. I can sing now as well as you. Go to nibbling grass, deary, and a long life to you!”
Then the treacherous Zora turned on her heel, and left her poor cousin to her mute despair.
A search was made far and wide for the missing princess. Forests were hunted, rivers were dragged; but without avail. Deep gloom fell on the people, and the queen nearly died of sorrow. They all believed Hilda dead, all but Zora, who knew too well her cruel fate.
Then Zora was treated like the king’s daughter. Wherever she went, there were servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and behind her back they made wry faces, and said she looked like one who was tormented by evil fairies.
But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen of Prince Reginald. She watched the windows day after day, hoping to see him ride by on his coal-black steed; but he never came. Then she grew crosser than ever, and the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. She dreamed every night of horrible goblins and slender green snakes.
All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed about the park. The other lambs were content to nip the sweet grass, and frisk in the sun; but the princess remembered something better, for her soul did not sleep.
The king himself, in his walks, was struck with the beauty of the lamb; its fleece was far softer, finer, and whiter than was common. He said to his chief shepherd, “Watch well yonder snow-white lamb, and give it particular care.”
For there was something in its soft dark eyes, as they were raised to his face, which stirred the king’s heart, though he knew not why.
One day the city was thrown into a great tumult. A lion had been seen in the thicket which bordered the park. The huntsmen, hearing of it, stole out privately to waylay him in a snare. He was caught alive by the king’s favorite huntsman. It was agreed that such a fine lion had never been seen before; and the king ordered a strong iron cage for the beast, and made his favorite huntsman his keeper.
Now the cage was in the midst of the park; and such was the terror of the sheep and deer, that none of them went near it.
“I will go,” thought poor Hildegarde; “let the lion tear me in pieces. Sooner would I perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my days.”
So she went up to the cage, though with a faint heart; but the lion put his paw out of the bars, and stroked
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