Twilight Land by Howard Pyle (black authors fiction txt) 📕

Generous. It was only after it was all gone that they called him Beppo the Foolish.

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

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

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

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

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

But the summer-goose friend only grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly some one clapped him upon the shoulder.

Beppo turned around.

There stood a great tall man dressed all in black.

“You must come with me,” said he.

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

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

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

So he turned and followed the man whither he led.

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

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

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

Beppo wondered whether he were dreaming.

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

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

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

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

Beppo wondered whether he were awake.

“Come hither,” said the king, in a harsh voice, and Beppo came forward and