Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard by Eleanor Farjeon (best new books to read txt) 📕

(Joscelyn: Why? Why? Why?

Martin: Because he discovered that they were even unhappier than the Princess in her tower.

Joscelyn: It isn't true! It isn't true!

Martin: Look out! you're losing your slipper.)

Of course the Gorgons were unhappier than the Princess. She was only parted from her lover; but they were parted from love itself.

But as the week wore on, miracles happened; for every night one of the Gorgons turned into the beautiful girl she used to be before the Goddess of Reason, infuriated with the Irrational God who bestows on girls their quite unreasonable loveliness, had made her what she was. And night by night the Wanderer rubbed his eyes and wondered if he had been dreaming; for the guardians of the tower no longer hissed, but sighed at love, and instead of claws for the destructions of lovers had beautiful kind hands that longed to help them. Until on the sixth night only one remained this fellow's enemy. But alas! she was the strongest and fiercest of them all.

(Joscelyn: How dare you!)

And her case (said Martin) was hopeless, because she alone of them all had never known what love was, and so had nothing to be restored to.

(Joscelyn: How DARE you!)

And without her (said Martin) there was nothing to be done. She had always had the others under her thumb, and by this time she had the Wanderer in exactly the same place. And so--and so--

And so here is your shoe-string, Mistress Joscelyn; and I am sorry the want of it has been such an inconvenience to you all day, so that you could not make merry with us. But I must forfeit it now, for the story is ended, and I think you must own it is true.

(Joscelyn: I won't take it! The story is NOT true! The story is NOT ended! Finish it at once! None of the others ended like this.

Martin: The others weren't true.

Joscelyn: I don't care. You are to say what happened to the Gorgons.

Joyce: And to the Squire.

Jennifer: And to the Princess.

Jessica: And what she looked like.

Jane: And what happened to the King.

"Please, Martin," said little Joan, "please don't let the story come to an end before we know what happened to the Wanderer."

"I'm tired of telling stories," said Martin, "and I'll never tell another as long as I live. But I suppose I must add the trimmings to this one, or I shall get no peace.")

All these things, dear maidens, are very quickly told, except what the Princess looked like, for that is impossible. No man ever knew. He never got further than her eyes, and then he was drowned. But what does it matter how she looked? She died a thousand years ago of a broken heart. And her Squire, hearing of her death, died too, a thousand leagues away. And the King her father expired of remorse, and his country went to rack and ruin. And the five kind Gorgons had to pay the penalty of their regained humanity, and wilted into their maiden graves. Only the Sixth Gorgon lived on for ever and ever. I dare not think of her solitary eternity. But as for the Wanderer, he is of no importance. A little while he still went wandering, singing these lovers' sorrows to the world, and what became of him I never knew.

That's the end.

And now, dear Mistress Joscelyn, let me lace up your shoe.

(Joscelyn buried her face in her hands and burst out crying.)

POSTLUDE

PART I

There was consternation in the Apple-Orchard.

All the milkmaids came tumbling from their perches to run and comfort their weeping comrade. And as they passed Martin, Joyce cried, "It's a shame!" and Jennifer murmured "How could you?" and Jessica exclaimed "You brute!" and Jane said "I'm surprised at you!" and even little Joan shook her head at him, and, while all the others fondled Joscelyn, and petted and consoled her, took her hand and held it very tight. But with her other hand she took Martin's and held it just as tight, and looked a little anxious, with tears in her blue eyes. Yet she looked a little smiling too. And there were tears also in the eyes of all the milkmaids, because the story had ended so badly, and because they did not in the least know what was going to happen, and because a man had made one of them cry. And Martin suddenly realized that all these girls were against him as much as though it were six months ago. And he swung his feet and looked as though he didn't care, so that Joan knew he was feeling rather sheepish inside, and held his hand a little tighter.

Then Joscelyn, who had the loveliest brown, as Joan had the loveliest blue, eyes in England, lifted her young head and looked at Martin so defiantly through her tears that he knew she had given up the game at last; and he pressed Joan's hand for all he was worth, and began to look ashamed of himself, so that Joan knew he had stopped feeling sheepish in the least. And Joscelyn, in a voice that shook like birch-leaves, said, "I don't want it to end like that."

Martin: Dear Mistress Joscelyn, is it my fault? I promised you the truth, and with your help I have told it.

Joscelyn: How dare you say it's with my help? If I had my way--!

Martin: You shall have it. We will leave the end of the story in your hands.

Joscelyn: I won't have anything to do with it!

Martin: Then I'm afraid it's your fault.

Joscelyn: That's what a man always says!

Martin: Did he?

Joscelyn: Yes, he did! he said it was Eve's fault.

Martin: So it was.

Joscelyn: How dare you!

Martin: He said nothing but the truth. And what did you say?

Joscelyn: I said it was Adam's fault.

Martin: So it was. YOU said nothing but the truth.

Joscelyn: How could it be two people's fault?

Martin: How could it be anything else? Oh, Joscelyn! there are two things in this world that one