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diff --git a/41921-8.txt b/41921-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 24dc89f..0000000 --- a/41921-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2936 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Maker of Rainbows, by Richard Le Gallienne - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Maker of Rainbows - And other Fairy-tales and Fables - -Author: Richard Le Gallienne - -Illustrator: Elizabeth Shippen Green - -Release Date: January 26, 2013 [EBook #41921] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKER OF RAINBOWS *** - - - - -Produced by Anna Hall and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -[Illustration: [See page 48 - -OFTEN SHE WOULD LIFT THE LID OF THE GOLDEN COFFER AND LOOK AT THE -TATTERED ROBE] - - - - - THE - - MAKER OF RAINBOWS - - AND OTHER FAIRY-TALES AND FABLES - - BY - RICHARD LE GALLIENNE - - AUTHOR OF - "AN OLD COUNTRY HOUSE" - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - ELIZABETH SHIPPEN GREEN - - [Illustration] - - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK AND LONDON - MCMXII - - - COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY HARPER & BROTHERS - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 1912 - - I · M - - - THAT THIS VOLUME SHALL BE ENTIRELY IN KEEPING WITH ITS FAIRY-TALE - CONTENTS, I DEDICATE IT TO MY GOOD FRIENDS, ITS PUBLISHERS, MESSRS. - HARPER & BROTHERS IN REMEMBRANCE OF KINDLY RELATIONS BETWEEN THEM - AND ITS WRITER SELDOM FOUND OUT OF A FAIRY-TALE - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. THE OLD COAT OF DREAMS 1 - - II. THE MAKER OF RAINBOWS 7 - - III. THE MAN WITH SOMETHING IN HIS EYE 14 - - IV. MOTHER-OF-PEARL 17 - - V. THE MER-MOTHER 27 - - VI. THE SLEEPLESS LORD 29 - - VII. THE MAN WITH NO MONEY 39 - - VIII. THE RAGS OF QUEEN COPHETUA 42 - - IX. THE WIFE FROM FAIRY-LAND 51 - - X. THE BUYER OF SORROWS 54 - - XI. THE PRINCESS'S MIRROR 60 - - XII. THE PINE LADY 73 - - XIII. THE KING ON HIS WAY TO BE CROWNED 75 - - XIV. THE STOLEN DREAM 88 - - XV. THE STERN EDUCATION OF CLOWNS 103 - - - - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - OFTEN SHE WOULD LIFT THE LID OF THE GOLDEN COFFER - AND LOOK AT THE TATTERED ROBE _Frontispiece_ - - A SUDDEN STRANGE NEW LIGHT WOULD SHINE OUT OF ITS - PAGES _Facing p._ 30 - - HE WENT FORTH INTO THE DAWN SLEEPLESS " 36 - - THE HERALD ONCE MORE SET THE TRUMPET TO HIS LIPS AND BLEW " 56 - - HER ONLY CARE WAS TO GAZE ALL DAY AT HER OWN FACE " 60 - - - - - - -THE MAKER OF -RAINBOWS - - - - - -THE OLD COAT OF DREAMS - -A PROLOGUE - - -People in London--not merely literary folk, but even those "higher -social circles" to which a certain publisher, whose name--or race--it is -hardly fair to mention, had so obsequiously climbed--often wondered -whence had come the wealth that enabled him to maintain such an -establishment, give such elaborate "parties," have so many automobiles, -and generally make all that display which is so convincing to the modern -mind. - -Of course they were not seriously concerned, because, so long as it is a -party, and the _chef_ is paid so much, and the wines are as old as they -should be, not even the rarest blossom on the most ancient and -distinguished genealogical tree cares whose party it is, or, indeed, -with whom she dances. There is only one democracy, and that is -controlled by gentlemen with names that hardly sound beautiful enough -to mention in fairy tales--that democracy of money to which the fairest -flower of our aristocracy now bows her coroneted head. - -Strange--but we all know that so it is. Therefore, all sorts of -distinguished and beautiful people came to the publisher's "parties." - -It would have made no difference, really, to their hard hearts, could -they have known where all the champagne and conservatories and music -came from--they would have gone on dancing all the same, and eating -_pâté de foie gras_ and sherbets; yet it may interest a sad heart here -and there to know how it was that that publisher--whose name I forget, -but whose nose I can never forget--was able to pay for all that music -and dancing, strange flowers, and enchanted food, none of which he, of -course, understood. - - * * * * * - -Aristocrats in London, of course, know nothing of a northern district of -New York City called Harlem, with so many streets that a learned -arithmetician would be needed to number them: a district which, at the -first call of spring, becomes vocal with children on door-steps and -venders of every vegetable in every language. In this district, too, you -hear strange trumpets blow, announcing knife and scissors grinders, and -strange bells ringing from strings suspended across carts, whose -merchandise is bottles and old newspapers. You will hear, too, just when -the indomitable sweet smells from the terrible eternal spring are -blowing in at your window, and the murmur of rich happy people going -away is heard in the land, a raucous cry in the hot street--a cry full -of melancholy, even despair: it goes something like this--"Cash clo'! -Cash clo'!" - -Well, it was just then that a young poet, living in one of those highly -arithmetical streets, was wondering, as all the sad spring murmur came -to his ears, how he could possibly buy a rose for the bosom of his -sweetheart, with whom he was to dance that night at a local ball. -Everything he had in the world had gone. He had sold everything--except -his poems. All his precious books had gone, sad one by one. Little -paintings that once made his walls seem like the Louvre had gone. All -his old silver spoons and all the little intaglios he loved so well, and -yes! he had even sold the old copper chest of the Renaissance, all -studded nails, with three locks, in which ... well, all had gone. Only, -where was that rose for the bosom of his sweetheart--where was it -growing? Where and how was it to be bought? - -Just as he was at his wit's end, he heard a cry through the window. It -had meant nothing to him before. Now--strange as it may sound--it meant -a rose! - -"Cash clo'! Cash clo'!" - -He had an old dress-suit in his wardrobe. Perhaps that would buy a rose! -So, leaning through the window, he called down to the voice to "come -up." - -The gentleman from Palestine came up. - -It would be easy to describe the contempt with which he surveyed the -distinguished though somewhat ancient garments thus offered to him--in -exchange for a rose!--how he affected to examine linings and seams, -knowing all the time the distinguished tailor that had made them, and -what a bargain he was about to drive. - -Of course, they weren't, well ... really ... practically ... they -weren't worth buying.... - -The poet wondered a moment about the cost of a rose. - -"Are they worth the price of a rose?" he asked. - -The gentleman from Palestine didn't, of course, understand. - -"You see," said he, finally; "I'd like to give you more, but you know -how it is ... look at these linings and buttonholes! Honestly, I don't -really care about them at all--but--really a dollar and a half is the -best I can do on them...." And he eyed the poet's clothes with contempt. - -"A dollar seventy-five," said the poet, standing firm. - -"All right," at last said the gentleman from Palestine, "but I don't see -where I am to make any profit; however--" And he handed out the small, -dirty money. - -Then the poet bowed him out gently, saying in his heart: - -"Now I can buy my rose!" - -When the Palestinian dealer in old dress-suits went home--after sadly -leaving behind him that dollar seventy-five--he made an astonishing -discovery. - -In the necessary process of re-examining the "goods," something fell out -of one of the pockets, something the poet, after his nature, had quite -forgotten. The old-clothes man, now a publisher, picked them up from the -floor and gazed at them in delight. The poet, in his grandiose -carelessness, had forgotten to empty his pockets of various old dreams! - -Now, to be fair to the gentleman from Palestine, he belonged to a race -that loves dreams, and, to do him justice, he forgot all about the -profit he was to make of the poor poet's clothes, as he sat, -cross-legged, on the floor, and read the dreams that had fallen from the -pocket of the poet's old dress-suit. He read on and read on, and laughed -and cried--such a curious treasure-trove, such an odd medley of fairy -tales and fables and poems had fallen out of the poet's pocket--and it -was only later that the thought came to him that he might change from an -old-clothes man into a publisher of dreams. - -Now, these are some of the dreams that fell out of the poet's pocket. - - - - -THE MAKER OF RAINBOWS - - -It was a bleak November morning in the dreary little village of -Twelve-trees. Nature herself seemed hopeless and disgusted with the -universe, as the chill mists stole wearily among the bare trees, and the -boughs dripped with a clammy moisture that had nothing of the energy of -tears. - -Twelve-trees was a poor little village at the best of times, but the -past summer had been more than usually unkind to it, and the lean -wheat-fields and the ragged orchards had been leaner and more ragged -than ever before--so said the memory of the oldest villagers. - -There was very little to eat in the village of Twelve-trees, and -practically no money at all. Some of the inhabitants found consolation -in the fact that at the Inn of the Blessed Rood the cider-kegs still -held out against despair. - -But this was no comfort to the gaunt and shivering children left to -themselves on the chill door-steps, half-heartedly trying to play their -innocent little games. Even the heart of childhood felt the shadows that -November morning in the dreary little village of Twelve-trees, and even -the dogs and the cats of the village seemed to be under the same spell -of gloom, and moved about with a dank hopelessness, evidently expecting -nothing in the shape of discarded fish or transfiguring smells. - -There was no life in the long, disheveled High Street. No one seemed to -think it worth while to get up and work. There was nothing to get up -for, and no work worth doing. So, naturally, in all this echoing -emptiness, this lack of excitement, anything that happened attracted a -gratefully alert attention--even from those cats and dogs so sadly -prowling amid the dejected refuse of the village. - -Presently, amid all the November numbness, the blank nothingness of the -damp, deserted street, there was to be seen approaching from the south a -curious little figure of an old man, trundling at his side a strange -apparatus resembling a knife-grinder's wheel, and he carried some -forlorn old umbrellas under one arm. Evidently he was an itinerant -knife-grinder and umbrella-mender. As he proceeded up the street, he -called out some strange sing-song, the words of which it was impossible -to distinguish. - -But, though his cry was melancholy, his old puckered and wizened face -seemed to be alight with some inner and inextinguishable gladness, and -his electrical blue eyes, startlingly set in a network of wrinkles, were -as full of laughter as a boy's. His cry attracted a weary face here and -there at window and door; but, seeing nothing but an old knife-grinder, -the faces lost interest and immediately disappeared. The children, -however, being less sophisticated, were filled with a grateful curiosity -toward the stranger, and left the chill door-steps and trooped about him -in wonder. - -A little girl, with tears making channels down her pale, unwashed face, -caught the old man's eye. - -"Little one," he said, with a magical smile, and a voice all reassuring -love, "give me one of those tears, and I will show you what I can make -of it." - -And he touched the child's face with his hand, and caught one of her -tears on his finger, and placed it, glittering, on his wheel. Then, -working a pedal with his foot, the wheel began to move so swiftly that -one could see nothing but its whirling; and as it whirled, wonderful -colored rays began to rise from it, so that presently the dreary street -seemed full of rainbows. The sad houses were lit up with a fairy -radiance, and the faces of the children were all laughter again. - -"Well, little one," he said, when the wheel stopped whirling, "did you -like what I made out of that sad little tear?" - -And the children laughed, and begged him to do some other trick for -them. - -At that moment there came down the street a poor old half-witted woman, -indescribably dirty and bedraggled, talking to herself and laughing in a -creepy way. The village knew her as Crazy Sal, and the children were -accustomed to make cruel sport of her. As she came near they began to -jeer at her, with the heartlessness of young, unknowing things. - -But the strange old man who had made rainbows out of the little girl's -tear suddenly stopped them. - -"Stay, children," he said, "and watch." - -And, as he said this, his wheel went whirling again; and as it whirled a -light shot out from it, so that it illuminated the poor old woman, and -in its radiance she became strangely transfigured. In place of Crazy -Sal, whom they had been accustomed to mock, the children saw a -beautiful young girl, all blushes and bright eyes and pretty ribbons; -and so great was the murmur of their surprise that it drew to the -door-steps their fathers and mothers, who also saw Crazy Sal as none of -them had ever seen her before--except a very old man who remembered her -as a beautiful young girl, and remembered, too, how her mind had gone -from her as the news came one day that her sweetheart, a sailor, had -been drowned in the North Sea. - -"Who and what are you?" said this old man, stepping out a little in -front of the gathering crowd. "Are you a wizard, that you change a -child's tears into laughter, and turn an old half-witted woman back to a -young girl? You must be of the devil...." - -"Give me an ear of corn from your last harvest," answered the old -knife-grinder, "and let me put it on my wheel." - -An ear of corn was brought to him, and once more his wheel went -whirring, and again that strange light shot out from it, and spread far -past the houses over the fields beyond; and, lo! to the astonished sad -eyes of the weary farmers, they appeared waving with golden grain, -waiting for the scythe. - -And again, as the wheel stopped whirring, the old man who had -remembered Crazy Sal as a young girl spoke to the knife-grinder; again -he asked: - -"What and who are you? Are you a wizard that you change a child's tears -into laughter, and turn an old half-witted woman back to a young girl, -and make of a barren glebe a waving corn-field?" - -And the man with the strange wheel answered: - -"I am the maker of rainbows. I am the alchemist of hope. To me November -is always May, tears are always laughter that is going to be, and -darkness is light misunderstood. The sad heart makes its own sorrow, the -happy heart makes its own joy. The harvest is made by the -harvestman--and there is nothing hard or black or weary that is not -waiting for the magic touch of hope to become soft as a spring flower, -bright as the morning star, and valiant as a young runner in the dawn." - -But the village of Twelve-trees was not to be convinced by such words -made out of moonshine. Only the children believed in the laughing old -man with the strange wheel. - -"Rainbows!" mocked their fathers and mothers--"rainbows! Much good are -rainbows to a starving village." - -The old maker of rainbows took their taunts in silence, and made ready -to go his way; but as he started once more along the road he said, with -a cynical smile: - -"Have you never heard that there is a pot of gold at the end of the -rainbow?..." - -"A pot of gold?" cried out the whole village of Twelve-trees. - -"Yes," he answered, "a pot of gold! I know where it is, and I am going -to find it." - -And he moved on his way. - -Then the villagers looked at one another, and said over and over again, -"A pot of gold!" - -And they took cloaks and walking-staves and set out to accompany the old -visitor; but when they reached the outskirts of the village there was no -sign of him. He had mysteriously disappeared. - -But the children never forgot the rainbows. - - - - -THE MAN WITH SOMETHING IN HIS EYE - - -Once on a time toward the end of February, when the snow still festered -in the New York streets, and the wind blew cruelly from river to river, -a strange figure made a somewhat storm-tossed progress along -Forty-second Street, walking toward the East Side. He was a tall, -distinguished, curiously sad-looking man, with longish hair growing -gray, and clothes which, though they had been brushed many times, still -proclaimed aloud a Bond Street tailor. As he walked along he had -evidently some trouble with one of his eyes, which he rubbed from time -to time, as though a cinder, perhaps, from the Elevated Railroad had -lodged there, and at last he held a handkerchief to it as he walked -along. But whatever the trouble was, it did not seem to interfere with a -keen and kindly vision that noted every object and character of the -thronged street. Now and again, strangers in that noisy and bewildering -quarter would ask direction from him, and he never failed to stop with -an aristocratic painstaking courtesy and set them on their way. Nervous -old women with bundles at perilous crossings found his arm ready to -pilot them safely to the other side. There was about him a curious -gentleness which, after a while, did not fail to attract the attention -of enterprising boys and observing beggars, for whom, as he walked -along, evidently sorely troubled with his eye, he did not fail to find -pennies and kind words. - -At last he had become so noticeable for these oddities of behavior that, -as he went along, he had collected quite an escort of miscellaneous -individuals, ragged children with pale, precocious faces, voluble old -Irishwomen with bedraggled petticoats, sturdy beggars on crutches, and a -sprinkling of so-called "respectable" people, curiously hovering on the -skirts of the strange crowd. From some of these last came at length -unkindly comments. The man was evidently crazy--more probably he was -drunk. But it was plainly evident that he had something the matter with -his eye. - -At last a kindly individual suggested that he should go to a drug-store -and get the drug clerk to look at his eye. To this the stranger -assented, and, accompanied by his motley escort, he entered a -drug-store and put himself into the hands of the clerk, while the crowd -thronged the door and glared through the windows, wondering what was the -matter with the eccentric gentleman, who, after all, was very free with -his pence and had so kind a tongue. A policeman did not, of course, fail -to elbow himself into the store, to inquire what was the matter. - -Meanwhile the drug clerk proceeded to lift up the stranger's eyelid in a -professional manner, searching for the extraneous particle of pain. - -At last he found something, and made a strange announcement. The -something in the stranger's eye was--Pity. - -No wonder it had caused such a sensation in the most pitiless city in -the world. - - - - -MOTHER-OF-PEARL - - -There was once a poet who lived all alone by the sea. He had built for -himself a little house of boulders mortised in among the rocks, so -hidden that it was seldom that any wayfarer stumbled upon his retreat. -Wayfarers indeed were few in that solitary island, which was for the -most part covered with thick beech woods, and had for its inhabitants -only the wild creatures of wood and water and the strange unearthly -shapes that none but the poet's eyes could see. The nearest village was -miles away on the mainland, and for months at a time the solitude would -be undisturbed by sound of human voice or footstep--which was the poet's -idea of happiness. The world of men had seemed to him a world of sorrow -and foolishness and lies, and so he had forsaken it to dwell with -silence and beauty and the sound of the sea. - -For him the world had been an uncompanioned wilderness. Here at last his -spirit had found its home and its kindred. The speech of men had been -to him a vain confusion, but here were the voices he had been born to -understand, the elemental voices of earth and sea and sky, the secret -wisdom of the eternal. From morning till night his days were passed in -listening to these voices, and in writing down in beautiful words the -messages of wonder they brought him. So his little house grew to be -filled with the lovely songs that had come to him out of the sky and the -sea and the haunted beeches. He had written them in a great book with -silver clasps, and often at evening, when the moon was rising over the -sea, he would sing them to himself, for joy in the treasure which he had -thus hoarded out of the air, as a man might weigh the grains of gold -sifted from some flowing river. - -One night, as he thus sat singing to himself in the solitude, he was -startled by a deep sigh, as of some human creature near at hand, and -looking around he was aware of a lovely form, half in and half out of -the water, gazing at him with great moonlit eyes from beneath masses of -golden hair. In awe and delight he gazed back spellbound at the -unearthly vision. It was a fairy woman of the sea, more beautiful than -tongue can tell. Over her was the supernatural beauty of dreams and as -he looked at her the poet's heart filled with that more than mortal -happiness that only comes to us in dreams. - -"Beautiful spirit," at length he cried, stretching out his arms to the -vision; but as he did so she was gone, and in the place where she had -been there was nought but the lonely moonlight falling on the rocks. - -"It was all a trick of the moonlight," said the poet to himself, but, -even as he said it, there seemed to come floating to him the cadences of -an unearthly music of farewell. - -In his heart the poet knew that it had not been the moonlight, but that -nature had granted him one of those mystic visitations which come only -to those whose loving meditation upon her secrets have opened the hidden -doors. She had drawn aside for a moment the veil of her visible beauty, -and vouchsafed him a glimpse of her invisible mystery. But the veil had -been drawn again almost instantly, and the poet's eyes were left empty -and hungered for the face that had thus momentarily looked at him -through the veil. Yet his heart was filled with a high happiness, for, -the vision once his, would it not be his again? Did it not mean that -through the long initiation of his solitary contemplation he had come at -length to that aery boundary where the wall between the seen and the -unseen grows transparent and the human meets the immortal face to face? - -Still, days passed, and the poet watched in vain for the beautiful woman -of the sea. She came not again for all his singing, and his heart grew -heavy within him; but one day, as he walked the seashore at dawn, it -gave a great bound of joy, for there in mystical writing upon the silver -sand was a message which no eyes but his could have read. But the poet -was skilled in the secret script of the elements. To him the patterns of -leaves and flowers, the traceries of moss and lichen, the markings on -rocks and trees, which to others were but meaningless decorations, were -the letters of nature's hidden language, the spell-words of her runic -wisdom. To other eyes the message he had found written on the sand would -have seemed but a tangle of delicate weeds and shells cast up by the -sea. To him, as he turned it into our coarser human speech, it said: - - "Seek me not,--unsought I come,-- - Daughter of the moonlit foam, - Near and far am I to thee, - Near and far as earth and sea, - As wave to wave, as star to star, - Near and far, near and far." - -And that night, when the poet sat and sang, with full heart, in the -moonlight--lo! the vision was there once more.... But again, as he -stretched out his arms, she was gone. But this time the poet did not -grieve as before, for he knew that she would come again, as indeed it -befell. When she appeared to him the third time she had stolen so near -to his side that he could gaze deep into her strange eyes, as into the -fathomless, moonlit sea, and at the ending of his song she did not fade -away as before, but her long hair fell all about him like a net of -moonbeams, and she lay like the moon herself in his enraptured arms. - -To the passionate lover of nature, the anchorite of her solitudes, there -often comes, in the very hour of his closest approach to her, an aching -sense of incomplete oneness with her, a human desire for some responsive -embodiment of her mysterious beauty; and there are ecstatic moments in -which nature seems on the tremulous verge of sending us a magic -answer--moments of intense reverie when the woods seem about to reveal -to us the inner heart of their silence, in some sudden shape of -unimaginable enchantment, or the infinite of the starry night take form -at our side in some companionable radiance. We long, as it were, to -press our lips to the forehead of the dawn, to crush the leafy abundance -of summer to our breast, and to fold the infinite ocean in our embrace. - -To the poet, reward of his lonely vigils and endless longing, nature had -granted this marvel. How often, as he had gazed at the moon rising out -of the sea, had he dreamed of a shining shape that came to him along her -silver pathway. And to-night the mystery of the moonlit sea was in his -arms. No longer a lovely vision calling him from afar--an unapproachable -wonder, a voice, a gleam--but a miraculously embodied spirit of the -elements, supernaturally fair. - -The poet was, more than all men, learned in beautiful words, but he -could find no words for this strange happiness that had befallen him; -indeed, he had now passed beyond the world of words, and as he gazed -into those magic eyes, that seemed like sea-flowers growing out of the -air, they spoke to each other as wave talks to wave, or the leaves -whisper together on the trees. - -So it was that the poet ceased to be alone in his solitude, and the -fairy woman from the sea became his wife, and very wonderful was their -happiness. But, as with all happiness, theirs, too, was not without its -touch of sorrow. For, marvelously wedded though they were, so closely -united that they seemed veritably one rather than two beings, there had -been a deep meaning to that little song which the poet had found written -in seaweed upon the sand: - - "Near and far am I to thee, - Near and far as earth and sea," - -it had said, - - "Near and far, near and far." - -For not even their love could cast down for them one eternal barrier. -They could meet and love across it, but it was still there. They were -children of two diverse elements, and neither could cross from one into -the other--she a child of the blue sea, he a child of the green earth. -She must always leave him at the edge of the mysterious woods in which -her heart ached to wander, and, however far out into the wide waters he -would swim at her side, there would always be those deep-sea grottoes -and flower-gardens whither he could never follow. Down into these -enchanted depths he would watch her glide her shimmering way, but never -might he follow her to the hidden kingdoms of the sea. He must await her -out there, an alien, in the upper sunshine, and watch her glittering -kindred stream in and out the rainbowed portals--till again she was at -his side, her hands filled for his consolation with the secret treasures -of the sea. - -So would she, from the shore, with despair in her eyes, watch him -disappear among the beech-trees to gather for her the waxen flowers and -the sweet-smelling green leaves and grasses she loved more than any that -grew in the sea. Thus across their barrier would they make exchange of -the marvels that grew on either side, and thus, indeed, the barrier grew -less and less by reason of their love. Sometimes they asked each other -if that other mystery, Death, would remove the barrier altogether.... - -But at the heart of the woman Life was already whispering another -answer. - -"What," said she, as they watched the solemn stars in the still water -one summer night, "what if a little being were born to us that should -belong to both our worlds, to your green earth and to my blue sea? Would -you seem so lonely then? A little being that could run by your side in -the meadows, and swim with me into the depths of the sea!..." - -"Would you be so lonely then?" he echoed. - -And lo! after a season, it was this very marvel that came to pass; for -one night, as she came along the moon-path to his side, she was not -alone, but a tiny fairy woman was with her--a little radiant creature -that, as her mother had dreamed, could gather with one hand the flowers -that grow in the deeps of the wood and with the other the flowers that -grow in the deeps of the sea. - -Like any other mortal babe she was, save for this: around her waist ran -a shimmering girdle--of mother-of-pearl. - -So the poet and his wife called her Mother-of-Pearl; and she became for -them, as it were, a baby-bridge between two elements. In her mysterious -life their two lives became one, as never before. So near she brought -them to each other that often there seemed no barrier at all. And thus -days and years passed, and very wonderful was their happiness. - -But by this the world which the poet had forgotten had grown curious -regarding the life which he lived alone among the rocks. Many of his -songs, as songs will, had escaped from his solitude, and floated singing -among men; and weird rumors grew of the strange happiness that had come -to him. Some of the more curious had spied upon him in his seclusion, -and had brought back to the town marvelous accounts of having seen him -in the moonlight with his fairy wife and child at his side. And, after -its fashion, the world had decided that here was plainly the work of the -devil, and that the poet was a wizard in league with the powers of -darkness. So the ignorant world has ever interpreted the beauty it could -not understand, and the happiness it could not give. - -Thus a cloud began to gather of which the poet and his mer-wife and -little Mother-of-Pearl knew nothing, and one evening at moonrise, as -they were disporting themselves in their innocent happiness by the sea, -it burst upon them from the beech-trees with a gathering murmur and a -sudden roar. - -A great mob, uttering cries and waving torches, broke from the wood and -ran toward them. - -"Death to the wizard!" they cried. "Death! Death!" - -As the poet heard them, he turned to his wife and little -Mother-of-Pearl. "Fear not," he cried, "they cannot hurt us." - -Then, as again the cry went up, "Death to the wizard!" a sudden light -shone in his face. - -"Death ... yes! That is the last door of the barrier...." and he plunged -into the moonlit water. - -And when the rabble at length reached the shore with their torches, the -poet and his loved ones were already lost in the silver pathway that -leads to the hidden kingdoms of the sea. - - - - -THE MER-MOTHER - - - One day, walking by the sea, - I heard a sweet voice calling me: - I looked--but nothing could I see; - I listened--but no more I heard; - Only the sea and the sea-bird - And the blue sky were there with me. - - But on another happier day, - When all the sea was sun and spray, - And laughing shout of wind and foam, - I seemed to hear the voice once more,-- - Wilder and sweeter than before, - O wild as love and sweet as home. - - I looked, and lo! before me there - A maiden sat in seaweeds drest, - Sea-flowers hiding in her breast, - And with a comb of deep-sea pearl - She combed, like any other girl, - Her golden hair--her golden hair. - - And, as each shining yellow curl - Flickered like sunshine through the pearl, - She laughed and sang--but not for me: - Three little babies of the sea - Were diving in and out for joy-- - Two mer-girls and a small mer-boy. - - That fairy song was not for me, - Nor those green eyes, nor that gold hair; - Deep in the caves beneath the foam - There was a husband and a home-- - It was a mermaid taking care - Of her small children of the sea. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE SLEEPLESS LORD - - -There was once a great lord. He was lord of seven castles, and there -were seven coronets upon his head. He was richer than he ever gave -himself the trouble to think of, for, north, south, east, and west, the -horizon even set no bounds to his estates. A thousand villages and ten -thousand farms were in the hollow of his hand, and into his coffers -flowed the fruitfulness and labor of all these. Therefore, as you can -imagine, he was a very rich lord. He had more beautiful titles, denoting -the various principalities over which he was lord, than the -deepest-lunged herald could proclaim without taking breath at least -three times. In person he was most noble and beautiful to look upon, and -his voice was like the rippling of waters under the moon, save when it -was like the call of a golden trumpet. He stood foremost in the counsels -of his realm, not only for his eloquence, but for his wisdom. Also, God -had given him a good heart. - -Only one gift had been denied him--the gift of sleep. By whatever means -he might weary himself in the day--in study, in sport, in recreation, or -in the business of the realm--night found him sleepless, and all the -dark hours the lights burned in his bedchamber and in his library, as he -would pace from one to the other, with eyes tragically awake and brain -torturingly alert and clear. - -Every means known to science by which to bring sleep to the eyes of -sleepless men had been tried in vain. Learned physicians from all parts -of the world had come to my lord's castle, and had gone thence, -confessing that their skill had availed nothing. All strange and -terrible drugs that have power over the spirit of man had failed to -conquer those stubborn eyelids. My lord still paced from his bedchamber -to his library, from his library to his bedchamber--sleepless. - -[Illustration: A SUDDEN STRANGE NEW LIGHT WOULD SHINE OUT OF ITS PAGES] - -Sometimes in his anguish he had thrown himself on his knees in prayer -before a God whom he had not always remembered--the God who giveth His -beloved sleep--but his prayers had remained unanswered; and in his -darkest moments he had dreamed of snatching by his own hands that sleep -perpetual of which a great Latin poet he loved had sung. Often, as he -paced his library, he would say over and over to himself, _Nox est -perpetua una dormienda_--and in the still night the old words would -often sound like soft dark voices calling him away into the endless -night of the endless sleep. But he was not the man to take that way of -escape. No; whatever the suffering might be, he would fight it out to -the end, and so he continued sleepless, trying this resource and that, -but, most of all, that first and last resource--courage. It is seldom -that courage fails to wrest for us some recompense from the hardest -situation, and the sleepless man, as night after night he fought with -his fate, did not miss such hard-wrung rewards. Often, as in the deepest -hush of the night he wearily took up some great old book of philosopher -or poet familiar to him from his youth, a sudden strange new light would -shine out of its pages, as of some inner radiance of truth which he had -missed in his daylight reading. At such times an exaltation would come -over him, and it would almost seem as though the curse upon him was -really a blessing of initiation into the world of a deeper wisdom, the -gate of which is hidden by the glare of the sun. In the daylight the -eternal voices are lost in the transitory clamor of human business; it -is only when the night falls, and the stars rise, and the noise of men -dies down like the drone of some sleeping insect, that the solemn -thoughts of God may be heard. - -Other compensations he found when, weary of his books and despairing of -sleep, he would leave his house and wander through the silent city, -where the roaring thoroughfares of the daytime were silent as the -pyramids, and the great warehouses seemed like deserted palaces haunted -by the moon. Night-walkers like himself grew to find his figure -familiar, and would say to themselves, or to each other, "There goes the -lord who never sleeps"; and the watchmen on their rounds all knew and -saluted the man whose eyelids never closed. Enforced as these nocturnal -rambles were, they revealed to him much beautiful knowledge which those -more fortunate ones asleep in their beds must ever miss. Thus he came in -contact with all the vast nocturnal labor of the world, the toil of -sleepless men who keep watch over the sleeping earth, and work through -the night to make it ready for the new-born day; all that labor which is -put away and forgotten with the rising of the sun, and of which the day -asks no questions, so that the result be there. This brought him very -near to humanity and taught him a deep pity for the grinding lot of -man. - -Then--was it no compensation for this sleepless one that he thus became -a companion of all the ensorceled beauty of Night, walking by her side, -a confidant of her mystic talk, as he gazed into her everlasting eyes? -Was it nothing to be the intimate of all her sibylline moods, learned in -every haunted murmur of her voice, intrusted with her lunar secrets, and -a friend of all her stars? - -Yes! it was much indeed, he often said to himself, as he turned homeward -with the first flush of morning, and met the great sweet-smelling wains -coming from the country, laden with fruits and flowers, and making their -way like moving orchards and meadows through the city streets. - -The big wagoners, too, were well acquainted with the great lord who -never slept, and would always stop when they saw him, for it was his -custom to buy from them a bunch of country flowers. - -"The country dew is still on them," he would say; "it will have dried -long since when the people sleeping yonder come to buy them," and, as he -slipped back into his house, he would often feel a sort of pity for -those who slept so well that they never saw the stars set and the sun -rise. - -Such were some of the compensations with which he strove to strengthen -his soul--not all in vain. So time passed; but at length the strain of -those interminable nights began to tell upon the sleepless man, and -strange fancies began to take possession of him. His vigils were no -longer lonely, but inhabited by spectral voices and shadowy faces. -Rebellion against his fate began to take the place of courage; and one -night, in anger against his unending ordeal, he said to himself: "Am I -not a great lord? It is intolerable that I should be denied that simple -thing which the humblest and poorest possess so abundantly. Am I not -rich? I will go forth and buy sleep." - -So saying, he took from a cabinet a great jewel of priceless value. "It -is worth half my estate," he said. "Surely with this I can buy sleep." -And he went out into the night. - -As if in irony, the night was unusually wide-awake with stars, and the -moon was almost at its full. As the sleepless one looked up into the -firmament, it almost seemed as though it mocked him with his brilliant -wakefulness. From horizon to horizon, in all the heaven, there was to be -seen no downiest feather of the wings of sleep. To his upturned eyes, -pleading for the mercy of sleep, the stars sent down an answer of -polished steel. And so he turned his eyes again upon the earth. -Everything there also, even the keenly cut shadows, seemed pitilessly -awake. It almost seemed as though God had withdrawn the blessing of -sleep from His universe. - -But no! Suddenly he gave a cry of joy, as presently, by the riverside, -stretched in an angle of its granite embankment, as though it had been a -bed of down, he came upon a great workman fast asleep, with his arms -over his head and his face full in the light of the moon. His breath -came and went with the regularity of a man who has done his days work -and is healthily tired out. He seemed to be drinking great draughts of -sleep out of the sky, as one drinks water from a spring. He was poorly -clad, and evidently a wanderer on the earth; but, houseless as he was, -to him had been granted that healing gift which the great lord who gazed -at him had prayed for in vain for months and years, and for which this -night he was willing to surrender half--nay, the whole--of his wealth, -if needs be-- - - Only a little holiday of sleep, - Soft sleep, sweet sleep; a little soothing psalm, - Of slumber from Thy sanctuaries of calm. - A little sleep--it matters not how deep; - A little falling feather from Thy wing: - Merciful Lord--is it so great a thing? - -The sleepless one gazed at the sleeper a long time, fascinated by the -mystery and beauty of that strange gift that had been denied him. Then -he took the jewel in his hand and looked at it, picturing to himself the -sleeping man's surprise when he awoke in the morning and found so -unexpected a treasure in his possession, and all that the sudden -acquisition of such wealth would mean to him. But, as I said at the -beginning, God had given him a good heart, and, as he gazed on the man's -sleep again, a pang of misgiving shot through him. After all, what were -worldly possessions compared with this natural boon of which he was -about to rob the sleeping man? Would all his castles be a fair exchange -for that? And was he about to subject a fellow human being to the -torture which he had endured to the verge of madness? - -For a long time he stood over the sleeper struggling with himself. - -"No!" at last he said. "I cannot rob him of his sleep," and turned and -passed on his way. - -[Illustration: HE WENT FORTH INTO THE DAWN SLEEPLESS] - -Presently he came to where a beautiful woman lay asleep with a little -child in her arms. They were evidently poor outcasts, yet how tranquilly -they lay there, as if all the riches of the earth were theirs, and as if -there was no hard world to fight on the morrow. If sleep had seemed -beautiful on the face of the sleeping workman, how much more beautiful -it seemed here, laying its benediction upon this poor mother and child. -How trustfully they lay in its arms out there in the shelterless night, -as though relying on the protection of the ever-watchful stars. Surely -he could not violate this sanctuary of sleep, and think to make amends -by exchange of his poor worldly possessions. No! he must go on his way -again. But first he took a ring from his finger and slipped it gently -into the baby's hand. The tiny hand closed over it with the firmness of -a baby's clutch. "It will be safe there till morning," he said to -himself, and left them to their slumbers. - -So he passed along through the city, and everywhere were sleeping forms -and houses filled with sleepers, but he could not bring himself to carry -out his plan and buy sleep. Sleep was too beautiful and sacred a thing -to be bought with the most precious stone, and man was so piteously in -need of it at each long day's end. - -Thus he went on his way, and at last, as the dawn was showing faint in -the sky, he found himself in a churchyard, and above one of the graves -was growing a shining silver flower. - -"It is the flower of sleep," said the sleepless one, and he bent over -eagerly to gather it; but as he did so his eyes fell upon an inscription -on the stone. It was the grave of a beautiful girl who had died of -heart-break for her lover. - -"I may not pluck it," he said. "She needs her sleep as well." - -And he went forth into the dawn sleepless. - - - - -THE MAN WITH NO MONEY - -A FABLE FOR CAPITALISTS - - -Once upon a time there was a man who found himself, suddenly and sadly, -without any money. I am aware that in these days it is hard to believe -such a story. Nowadays, everybody has money, and it may seem like a -stretch of the imagination to suggest a time when a man should search -his pockets and find them empty. But this is merely a fairy tale; so, I -trust that the reader will help me out by taking so apparently -preposterous a statement for granted. - -The man had been a merchant of butterflies in Ispahan, and, though his -butterflies had flitted all about the flowered world, the delight of -many-tongued and many-colored nations, he found himself at the close of -the day a very poor and weary man. - -He had but one consolation and companion left--a strange, black -butterfly, which he kept in a silver cage, and only looked at now and -again, when he was quite sure that he was alone. He had sold all his -other butterflies--all the rainbow wings--but this dark butterfly he -would keep till the end. - -Kings and queens, in sore sorrow and need, had offered him great sums -for his black butterfly, but it was the only beautiful thing he had -left--so, selfishly, he kept it to himself. Meanwhile, he starved and -wandered the country roads, homeless and foodless: his breakfast the -morning star, his supper the rising moon. But, sad as was his heart, and -empty as was his stomach, laughter still flickered in his tired eyes; -and he possessed, too, a very shrewd mind, as a man who sells -butterflies must. Making his breakfast of blackberries one September -morning, in the middle of an old wood, with the great cages of bramble -overladen with the fruit of the solitude, an idea came to him. Thereupon -he sought out some simple peasants and said: "Why do you leave these -berries to fall and wither in the solitude, when in the markets of the -world much money may be made of them for you and for your household? -Gather them for me, and I will sell them and give you a fair return for -your labor." - -Now, of course, the blackberries did not belong to the dealer in -butterflies. They were the free gift of God to men and birds. But the -simple peasants never thought of that. Instead, they gathered them, east -and west, into bushel and hogshead, and the man that had no money, that -September morning, smiled to himself as he paid them their little wage, -and filled his pockets, that before had been so empty, with the money -that God and the blackberries and the peasants had made for him. - -Thus he grew so rich that he seldom looked at the dark butterfly in the -silver cage--but sometimes, in the night, he heard the beating of its -wings. - - - - -THE RAGS OF QUEEN COPHETUA - - -When the first dazzle of bewildered happiness in her new estate had -faded from her eyes, and the miracle of her startling metamorphosis from -a wandering beggar-maid to a great Queen on a throne was beginning to -lose a little of its wonder and to take its place among the accepted -realities of life, Queen Cophetua became growingly conscious of some dim -dissatisfaction and unrest in her heart. - -Indeed, she had all that the world could give, and surely all that a -woman's heart is supposed to desire. The King's love was still hers as -when he found her at dawn by the pool in the forest; and, in exchange -for the tattered rags which had barely concealed the water-lily -whiteness of her body, countless wardrobes were filled with garments of -every variety of subtle design and exquisite fabric, textures light as -the golden sun, purple as the wine-dark sea, iridescent as the rainbow, -and soft as summer clouds--the better to set off her strange beauty for -the eyes of the King. - -And, every day of the year, the King brought her a new and priceless -jewel to hang about her neck, or wear upon her moonbeam hands, or to -shine in the fragrant night of her hair. - -Ah! what a magical wooing that had been in the depths of the forest, -that strange morning! The sun was hardly above the tops of the trees -when she had awakened from sleep at the mossy foot of a giant beech, and -its first beams were casting a solemn enchantment across a great pool of -water-lilies and filling their ivory cups with strange gold. She had -lain still a while, watching through her sleepy eyelids the unfolding -marvel of the dawn; and then rousing herself, she had knelt by the pool, -and letting down her long hair that fell almost to her feet had combed -and braided it, with the pool for her mirror--a mirror with water-lilies -for its frame. And, as she gazed at herself in the clear water, with a -girlish happiness in her own beauty, a shadow fell over the pond; and, -startled, she saw beside her own face in the mirror the face of a -beautiful young knight, so it seemed, bending over her shoulder. In fear -and maiden modesty--for her hair was only half braided, and, whiter than -any water-lily in the pond, her bosom glowed bare in the morning -sunlight--she turned around, and met the eyes of the King. - -Without moving, each gazed at the other as in a dream--eyes lost -fathom-deep in eyes. - -At last the King found voice to speak. - -"You must be a fairy," he had said, "for surely you are too beautiful to -be human!" - -"Nay, my lord," she had answered, "I am but a poor girl that wanders -with my lute yonder from village to village and town to town, singing my -little songs." - -"You shall wander no more," said the King. "Come with me, and you shall -sit upon a throne and be my Queen, and I will love you forever." - -But she could not answer a word, for fear and joy. - -And therewith the King took her by the hand, and set her upon his horse -that was grazing hard by; and, mounting behind her, he rode with her in -his arms to the city, and all the while her eyes looked up into his -eyes, as she leaned upon his shoulder, and his eyes looked deep down -into hers--but they spake not a word. Only once, at the edge of the -forest, he had bent down and kissed her on the lips, and it seemed to -both as if heaven with all its stars was falling into their hearts. - -As they rode through the city to the palace, surrounded by wondering -crowds, she nestled closer to his side, like a frightened bird, and like -a wild birds were her great eyes gazing up into his in a terror of joy. -Not once did she move them to right or left, for all the murmur of the -people about them. Nor did the King see aught but her water-lily face as -they wended thus in a dream through the crowded streets, and at length -came to the marble steps of the palace. - -Then the King, leaping from his horse, took her tenderly in his arms and -carried her lightly up the marble steps. Upon the topmost step he set -her down, and taking her hand in his, as she stood timidly by his side, -he turned his face to the multitude and spake. - -"Lo! my people," he said, "this is your Queen, whom God has sent to me -by a divine miracle, to rule over your hearts from this day forth, as -she holds rule over mine. My people, salute your Queen!" - -And therewith the King knelt on one knee to his beggar-maid and kissed -her hand; and all the people knelt likewise, with bowed heads, and a -great cry went up. - -"Our Queen! Our Queen!" - -Then the King and Queen passed into the palace, and the tiring-maids led -the little beggar-maid into a great chamber hung with tapestries and -furnished with many mirrors, and they took from off her white body the -tattered gown she had worn in the forest, and robed her in perfumed -linen and cloth of gold, and set jewels at her throat and in her hair; -and at evening in the cathedral, before the high altar, in the presence -of all the people, the King placed a sapphire beautiful as the evening -star upon her finger, and the twain became man and wife; and the moon -rose and the little beggar-maid was a Queen and lay in a great King's -arms. - -On the morrow the King summoned a famous worker in metals attached to -his court, and commanded him to make a beautiful coffer of beaten gold, -in which to place the little ragged robe of his beggar-maid; for it was -very sacred to him because of his great love. After due time the coffer -was finished, and it was acclaimed the masterpiece of the great -artificer who had made it. About its sides was embossed the story of the -King's love. On one side was the pool with the water-lilies and the -beggar-maid braiding her hair on its brink. And on another she was -riding on horseback with the King through the forest. And on another -she was standing by his side on the steps of the palace before all the -people. And on the fourth side she was kneeling by the King's side -before the high altar in the cathedral. - -The King placed the coffer in a secret gallery attached to the royal -apartments, and very tenderly he placed therein the little tattered gown -and the lute with which his Queen was wont to wander from village to -village and town to town, singing her little songs. - -Often at evening, when his heart brimmed over with the tenderness of his -love, he would persuade his Queen to doff her beautiful royal garments -and clothe herself again in that little tattered gown, through the rents -of which her white body showed whiter than any water-lilies. And, -however rich or exquisite the other garments she wore, it was in those -beloved rags, the King declared, that she looked most beautiful. In them -he loved her best. - -But this had been a while ago, and though, as has been said, the King's -love was still hers as when he had met her that strange morning in the -forest, and though every day he brought her a new and priceless jewel to -hang about her neck, or wear upon her moonbeam hands, or to shine in -the fragrant night of her hair, it was many months since he had asked -her to wear for him the little tattered gown. - -Was the miracle of their love beginning to lose a little of its wonder -for him, too; was it beginning to take its place among the accepted -realities of life? - -Sometimes the Queen fancied that he seemed a little impatient with her -elfin bird-like ways, as though, in his heart, he was beginning to wish -that she was more in harmony with the folk around her, more like the -worldly court ladies, with their great manners and artificial smiles. -For, though she had now been a Queen a long while, she had never -changed. She was still the wild gipsy-hearted child the King had found -braiding her hair that morning by the lilied pool. - -Often she would steal away by herself and enter that secret gallery, and -lift the lid of the golden coffer, and look wistfully at the little -tattered robe, and run her hands over the cracked strings of her little -lute. - -There was a long window in the gallery, from which, far away, she could -see the great green cloud of the forest; and as the days went by she -often found herself seated at this window, gazing in its direction, with -vague unformed feelings of sadness in her heart. - -One day, as she sat there at the window, an impulse came over her that -she could not resist, and swiftly she slipped off her beautiful -garments, and taking the little robe from the coffer, clothed herself in -the rags that the King had loved. And she took the old lute in her -hands, and sang low to herself her old wandering songs. And she danced, -too, an elfin dance, all alone there in the still gallery, danced as the -apple-blossoms dance on the spring winds, or the autumn leaves dance in -the depths of the forest. - -Suddenly she ceased in alarm. The King had entered the gallery -unperceived, and was watching her with sad eyes. - -"Are you weary of being a Queen?" said he, sadly. - -For answer she threw herself on his breast and wept bitterly, she knew -not why. - -"Oh, I love you! I love you," she sobbed, "but this life is not real." - -And the King went from her with a heavy heart. - -And from day to day an unspoken sorrow lay between them; and from day to -day the King's words haunted the Queen with a more insistent refrain: - -"Are you weary of being a Queen?" - -Was she weary of being a Queen? - -And so the days went by. - - * * * * * - -One day as the Queen passed down the palace steps she came upon a -beautiful girl, clothed in tatters as she had once been, seated on the -lowest step, selling flowers--water-lilies. - -The Queen stopped. - -"Where did you gather your water-lilies, child?" she asked. - -"I gathered them from a pool in the great forest yonder," answered the -girl, with a curtsey. - -"Give me one of them," said the Queen, with a sob in her voice, and she -slipped a piece of gold into the girl's hand, and fled back into the -palace. - -That night, as she lay awake by her sleeping King, she rose silently and -stole into the secret gallery. There, with tears running down her -cheeks, she dressed herself in the little tattered gown and took the -lute in her hand, and then stole back and pressed a last kiss on the -brow of her sleeping King, who still slept on. - -But at sunrise the King awoke, with a sudden fear in his heart, and lo! -where his Queen had lain was only a white water-lily. - -And at that moment, in the depths of the forest, a beggar-maid was -braiding her hair, with a pool of water-lilies for her mirror. - - - - -THE WIFE FROM FAIRY-LAND - - - Her talk was of all woodland things, - Of little lives that pass - Away in one green afternoon, - Deep in the haunted grass. - - For she had come from fairy-land, - The morning of a day - When the world that still was April - Was turning into May. - - Green leaves and silence and two eyes-- - 'Twas so she seemed to me; - A silver shadow of the woods,-- - Whisper and mystery. - - I looked into her woodland eyes, - And all my heart was hers; - And then I led her by the hand - Home up my marble stairs. - - And all my granite and my gold - Was hers for her green eyes, - And all my sinful heart was hers, - From sunset to sunrise. - - I gave her all delight and ease - That God had given to me, - I listened to fulfil her dreams, - Rapt with expectancy. - - But all I gave and all I did - Brought but a weary smile - Of gratitude upon her face-- - As though, a little while, - - She loitered in magnificence - Of marble and of gold, - And waited to be home again, - When the dull tale was told. - - Sometimes, in the chill galleries, - Unseen, she deemed, unheard, - I found her dancing like a leaf, - And singing like a bird. - - So lone a thing I never saw - In lonely earth and sky; - So merry and so sad a thing-- - One sad, one laughing, eye. - - There came a day when on her heart - A wild-wood blossom lay, - And the world that still was April - Was turning into May. - - In her green eyes I saw a smile - That turned my heart to stone,-- - My wife that came from fairy-land - No longer was alone. - - For there had come a little hand - To show the green way home, - Home through the leaves, home through the dew, - Home through the greenwood--home. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BUYER OF SORROWS - - -On an evening of singular sunset, about the rich beginning of May, the -little market-town of Beethorpe was startled by the sound of a trumpet. - -Beethorpe was an ancient town, mysteriously sown, centuries ago, like a -wandering thistle-down of human life, amid the silence and the nibbling -sheep of the great chalk downs. It stood in a hollow of the long smooth -billows of pale pasture that suavely melted into the sky on every side. -The evening was so still that the little river running across the -threshold of the town, and encircling what remained of its old walls, -was the noisiest thing to be heard, dominating with its talkative murmur -the bedtime hum of the High Street. - -Suddenly, as the flamboyance of the sky was on the edge of fading, and -the world beginning to wear a forlorn, forgotten look, a trumpet sounded -from the western heights above the town, as though the sunset itself -had spoken; and the people in Beethorpe, looking up, saw three horsemen -against the lurid sky. - -Three times the trumpet blew. - -And the simple folk of Beethorpe, tumbling out into the street at the -summons, and looking to the west with sleepy bewilderment, asked -themselves: Was it the last trumpet? Or was it the long-threatened -invasion of the King of France? - -Again the trumpet blew, and then the braver of the young men of the town -hastened up the hill to learn its meaning. - -As they approached the horsemen, they perceived that the center of the -three was a young man of great nobility of bearing, richly but somberly -dressed, and with a dark, beautiful face filled with a proud melancholy. -He kept his eyes on the fading sunset, sitting motionless upon his -horse, apparently oblivious of the commotion his arrival had caused. The -horseman on his right hand was clad after the manner of a herald, and -the horseman on his left hand was clad after the manner of a steward. -And the three horsemen sat motionless, awaiting the bewildered -ambassadors of Beethorpe. - -When these had approached near enough the herald once more set the -trumpet to his lips and blew; and then, unfolding a parchment scroll, -read in a loud voice: - -"To the Folk of Beethorpe--Greeting from the High and Mighty Lord, -Mortimer of the Marches: - -"Whereas our heart had gone out toward the sorrows of our people in the -counties and towns and villages of our domain, we hereby issue -proclamation that whosoever hath a sorrow, let him or her bring it -forth; and we, out of our private purse, will purchase the said sorrow, -according to its value--that the hearts of our people be lightened of -their burdens." - -And when the herald had finished reading he blew again upon the trumpet -three times; and the villagers looked at one another in -bewilderment--but some ran down the hill to tell their neighbors of the -strange proposal of their lord. Thus, presently, nearly all the village -of Beethorpe was making its way up the hill to where those three -horsemen loomed against the evening sky. - -Never was such a sorrowful company. Up the hill they came, carrying -their sorrows in their hands--sorrows for which, in excited haste, they -had rummaged old drawers and forgotten cupboards, and even ran hurriedly -into the churchyard. - -[Illustration: THE HERALD ONCE MORE SET THE TRUMPET TO HIS LIPS AND -BLEW] - -Lord Mortimer of the Marches sat his horse with the same austere -indifference, his melancholy profile against the fading sky. Only those -who stood near to him noted a kindly ironic flicker of a smile in his -eyes, as he saw, apparently seeing nothing, the poor little raked-up -sorrows of his village of Beethorpe. - -He was a fantastic young lord of many sorrows. His heart had been broken -in a very strange way. Death and Pity were his closest friends. He was -so sad himself that he had come to realize that sorrow is the only -sincerity of life. Thus sorrow had become a kind of passion with him, -even a kind of connoisseurship; and he had come, so to say, to be a -collector of sorrows. It was partly pity and partly an odd form of -dilettanteism--for his own sad heart made him pitiful for and -companionable with any other sad heart; but the sincerity of his sorrow -made him jealous of the sanctity of sorrow, and at the same time sternly -critical of, and sadly amused by, the hypocrisies of sorrow. - -So, as he sat his horse and gazed at the sunset, he smiled sadly to -himself as he heard, without seeming to hear, the small, insincere -sorrows of his village of Beethorpe--sorrows forgotten long ago, but -suddenly rediscovered in old drawers and unopened cupboards, at the -sound of his lordship's trumpet and the promise of his strange -proclamation. - -Was there a sorrow in the world that no money could buy? - -It was to find such a sorrow that Lord Mortimer thus fantastically rode -from village to village of his estates, with herald and steward. - -The unpurchasable sorrow--the sorrow no gold can gild, no jewel can buy! - -Far and wide he had ridden over his estates, seeking so rare a sorrow; -but as yet he had found no sorrow that could not be bought with a little -bag of gold and silver coins. - -So he sat his horse, while the villagers of Beethorpe were paid out of a -great leathern bag by the steward--for the steward understood the mind -of his master, and, without troubling him, paid each weeping and -whimpering peasant as he thought fit. - -In another great bag the steward had collected the sorrows of the -Village of Beethorpe; and, by this, the moon was rising, and, with -another blast of trumpet by way of farewell, the three horsemen took the -road again to Lord Mortimer's castle. - -When, out of the great leathern bag, in Lord Mortimer's cabinet they -poured upon the table the sorrows of Beethorpe, the young lord smiled to -himself, turning over one sorrow after the other, as though they had -been precious stones--for there was not one genuine sorrow among them. - -But, later, there came news to him that there was one real sorrow in -Beethorpe; and he rode alone on horseback to the village, and found a -beautiful girl laying flowers on a grave. She was so beautiful that he -forgot his ancient grief, and he thought that all his castles would be -but a poor exchange for her face. - -"Maiden," said he, "let me buy your sorrow--with three counties and -seven castles." - -And the girl looked up at him from the grave, with eyes of -forget-me-not, and said: "My lord, you mistake. This is not sorrow. It -is my only joy." - - - - -THE PRINCESS'S MIRROR - - -The sun was scarcely risen, but the young princess was already seated by -her window. Never did window open upon a scene of such enchantment. -Never has the dawn risen over so fair a land. Meadows so fresh and grass -so green, rivers of such mystic silver and far mountains so majestically -purple, no eye has seen outside of Paradise; and over all was now -outspread the fairy-land of the morning sky. - -Even a princess might rise early to behold so magic a spectacle. - -Yet, strangely enough, it was not upon this miracle that the eyes of the -princess were gazing. In fact, she seemed entirely oblivious of it -all--oblivious of all that was passing in the sky, and of all the dewy -awakening of the earth. - -Her eyes were lost in a trance over what she deemed a rarer beauty, a -stranger marvel. The princess was gazing at her own face in a golden -mirror. - -[Illustration: HER ONLY CARE WAS TO GAZE ALL DAY AT HER OWN FACE] - -And indeed it was a beautiful face that she saw there, so beautiful that -the princess might well be pardoned for thinking it the most beautiful -face in the world. So fascinated had she become by her own beauty that -she carried her mirror ever at her girdle, and gazed at it night and -day. Whenever she saw another beautiful thing she looked in her mirror -and smiled to herself. - -She had looked at the most beautiful rose in the world, and then she had -looked in her mirror and said, "I am more beautiful." - -She had looked at the morning star, and then she had looked in her -mirror and said, "I am more beautiful." - -She had looked at the rising moon, and then she had looked in her mirror -and still she said, "I am more beautiful." - -Whenever she heard of a beautiful face in her kingdom she caused it to -be brought before her, and then she looked in her mirror, and always she -smiled to herself and said, "I am more beautiful." - -Thus it had come about that her only care was to gaze all day at her own -face. So enamored had she become of it, that she hated even to sleep; -but not even in sleep did she lose the beautiful face she loved, for it -was still there in the mirror of dreams. Yet often she would wake in -the night to gaze at it, and always she arose at dawn that, with the -first rays of the sun, she might look into her mirror. Thus, from the -rising sun to the setting moon, she would sit at her window, and never -take her eyes from those beautiful eyes that looked back at her, and the -longest day in the year was not long enough to return their gaze. - -This particular morning was a morning in May--all bloom and song, and -crowding leaves and thickening grass. The valley was a mist of blossom, -and the air thrilled with the warbling of innumerable birds. Soft dewy -scents floated hither and thither on the wandering breeze. But the -princess took no note of these things, lost in the dream of her face, -and saw the changes of the dawn only as they were reflected in her -mirror and suffused her beauty with their rainbow tints. So rapt in her -dream was she that, when a bird alighted near at hand and broke into -sudden song, she was so startled that--the mirror slipped from her hand. - -Now the princess's window was in the wall of an old castle built high -above the valley, and beneath it the ground sloped precipitately, -covered with underbrush and thick grasses, to a highroad winding far -beneath. As the mirror slipped from the hand of the princess it fell -among this underbrush and rolled, glittering, down the slope, till the -princess finally lost sight of it in a belt of wild flowers overhanging -the highroad. - -As it finally disappeared, she screamed so loudly that the -ladies-in-waiting ran to her in alarm, and servants were instantly sent -forth to search for the lost mirror. It was a very beautiful mirror, the -work of a goldsmith famous for his fantastic masterpieces in the -precious metals. The fancy he had skilfully embodied was that of beauty -as the candle attracting the moths. The handle of the mirror, which was -of ivory, represented the candle, the golden flame of which swept round -in a circle to hold the crystal. Wrought here and there, on the golden -back of the mirror, were moths with wings of enamel and precious stones. -It was a marvel of the goldsmith's art, and as such was beyond price. -Yet it was not merely for this, as we know, that the princess loved it, -but because it had been so long the intimate of her beauty. For this -reason it had become sacred in her eyes, and, as she watched it roll -down the hillside, she realized that it had gained for her also a -superstitious value. It almost seemed as if to lose it would be to lose -her beauty too. She ran to another mirror in panic. No! her beauty still -remained. But no other mirror could ever be to her like the mirror she -had lost. So, forgetting her beauty for a moment, she wept and tore her -hair and beat her tiring-maids in her misery; and when the men returned -from their searching without the mirror, she gave orders to have them -soundly flogged for their failure. - -Meanwhile the mirror rested peacefully among the wild flowers and the -humming of bees. - -A short while after the serving-men had been flogged and the -tiring-maids had been beaten, there came along the white road at the -foot of the castle a tired minstrel. He was singing to himself out of -the sadness of his heart. He was forty years old, and the exchange that -life had given him for his dreams had not seemed to him a fair -equivalent. He had even grown weary of his own songs. - -He sat, dejected, amid the green grasses, and looked up at the ancient -heaven--and thought to himself. Then suddenly he turned his tired eyes -again to earth, and saw the daisies growing there, and the butterflies -flitting from flower to flower. And the road, as he looked at it, seemed -long--longer than ever. He took his old lute in his hand--wondering to -himself if they could play another tune. They were so in love with each -other--and so tired of each other. - -He played one of his old songs, of which he was heartily weary, and, as -he played, the butterflies flitted about him and filled his old hair -with blue wings. - -He was forty years old and very weary. He was alone. His last -nightingale had ceased singing. The time had come for him when one -thinks, and even dreams, of the fireside, the hearth, and the beautiful -old memories. - -He had, in short, arrived at that period of life when one begins to -perceive the beauty of money. - -As a boy he had never given a thought to gold or silver. A butterfly had -seemed more valuable to him than a gold piece. But he was growing old, -and, as I have said, he was beginning to perceive the beauty of money. - -The daisies were all around him, and the lark was singing up there in -the sky. But how could he cash a daisy or negotiate a lark? - -Dreams, after all, were dreams.... He was saying this to himself, when -suddenly his eye fell upon the princess's mirror, lying there in the -grass--so covered with butterflies, looking at themselves, that no -wonder the serving-men had been unable to find it. - -The mirror of the princess, as I have said, was made of gold and ivory, -and wonderful crystal and many precious stones. - -So, when the minstrel took it in his hands out of the grass, he -thought--well, that he might at least buy a breakfast at the next town. -For he was very hungry. - -Well, he caught up the mirror and hid it in his faded doublet, and took -his way to a wood of living green, and when he was alone--that is, alone -with a few flowers and a bird or two, and a million leaves, and the soft -singing of a little river hiding its music under many boughs--he took -out the mirror from his doublet. - -Shame upon him! he, a poet of the rainbow, had only one thought as he -took up the mirror--the gold and ivory and the precious stones. He was -merely thinking of them and his breakfast. - -But when he looked into the mirror, expecting to see his own ancient -face--what did he see? He saw something so beautiful that, just like the -princess, he dropped the mirror. Have you ever seen the wild rose as it -opens its heart to the morning sky; have you ever seen the hawthorn -holding in its fragrant arms its innumerable blooms; have you seen the -rising of the moon, or looked in the face of the morning star? - -The minstrel looked in the mirror and saw something far more wonderful -than all these wonderful things. - -He saw the face of the princess--eternally reflected there; for her love -of her own beautiful face had turned the mirror into a magic glass. To -worship oneself is the only way to make a beautiful face. - -And as the minstrel looked into the mirror he sadly realized that he -could never bring himself to sell it--and that he must go without his -breakfast. The moon had fallen into his hand out of the sky. Could he, a -poet, exchange this celestial windfall for a meal and a new doublet? As -the minstrel gazed and gazed at the beautiful face, he understood that -he could no more sell the mirror than he could sell his own soul--and, -in his pilgrimage through the world, he had received many offers for his -soul. Also, many kings and captains had vainly tried to buy from him his -gift of courage. - -But the minstrel had sold neither. And now had fallen out of the sky one -more precious thing to guard--the most beautiful face in the world. So, -as he gazed in the mirror, he forgot his hunger, forgot his faded -doublet, forgot the long sorrow of his days--and at length there came -the setting sun. Suddenly the minstrel awoke from his dream at the sound -of horsemen in the valley. The princess was sending heralds into every -corner of her dominions to proclaim the loss of the mirror, and for its -return a beautiful reward--a lock of her strange hair. - -The minstrel hid himself, with his treasure, amid the fern, and, when -the trumpets had faded in the distance, found the highroad again and -went upon his way. - -Now it chanced that a scullery-maid of the castle, as she was polishing -a copper saucepan, had lifted her eyes from her work, and, looking down -toward the highroad, had seen the minstrel pick up the mirror. He was a -very well known minstrel. All the scullery-maids and all the princesses -had his songs by heart. - -Even the birds were fabled to sing his songs, as they flitted to and fro -on their airy business. - -Thus, through the little scullery-maid, it became known to the princess -that the mirror had been found by the wandering minstrel, and so his -life became a life of peril. Bandits, hoping for the reward of that lock -of strange hair, hunted him through the woodland, across the marshes, -and over the moors. - -Jews with great money-bags came to buy from him--the beautiful face. -Sometimes he had to climb up into trees to look at it in the sunrise, -the woods were so filled with the voices of his pursuers. - -But neither hunger, nor poverty, nor small ferocious enemies were able -to take from him the beautiful face. It never left his heart. All night -long and all the watching day it was pressed close to his side. - -Meanwhile the princess was in despair. More and more the fancy possessed -her that with the lost mirror her beauty too was lost. In her -unhappiness, like all sad people, she took strange ways of escape. She -consulted the stars, and empirics from the four winds settled down upon -her castle. Each, of course, had his own invaluable nostrum; and all -went their way. For not one of these understood the heart of a poet. - -However, at last there came to the aid of the princess a reverend old -man of ninety years, a famous seer, deeply and gently and pitifully -learned in the hearts of men. His was that wisdom which comes of great -goodness. He understood the princess, and he understood the minstrel; -for, having lived so long alone with the Infinite, he understood the -Finite. - -To him the princess was as a little child, and his old wise heart went -out to her. - -And, as I have said, his heart understood the minstrel too. - -Therefore he said to the princess: "I know the hearts of poets. In seven -days I will bring you back your mirror." - -And the old man went, and at length found the poet eating wild berries -in the middle of the wood. - -"That is a beautiful mirror you have by your side," said the old man. - -"This mirror," answered the poet, "holds in its deeps the most beautiful -face in the world." - -"It is true," said the wise old man. "I have seen the beautiful face ... -but I too possess a mirror. Will you look into it?" - -And the poet took the mirror from the old man and looked; and, as he -looked, the mirror of the princess fell neglected in the grass.... - -"Why," said the wise old man, "do you let fall the princess's mirror?" - -But the poet made no answer--for his eyes were lost in the strange -mirror which the wise old man had brought him. - -"What do you see in the mirror," said the old man, "that you gaze so -earnestly in it?" - -"I see," answered the minstrel, "the infinite miracle of the universe, I -see the august and lonely elements, I see the solitary stars and the -untiring sea, I see the everlasting hills--and, as a crocus raises its -rainbow head from the black earth in springtime, I see the young moon -growing like a slender flower out of the mountains...." - -"Yet, look again," said the old man, "into this other mirror, the mirror -of the princess. Look again." - -And the poet looked--taking the two mirrors in his hands, and looking -from one to the other. - -"At last," he said, gazing into the face he had fought so long to -keep--"at last I understand that this is but a fleeting phantom of -beauty, a fluttering flower of a face--just one beautiful flower in the -innumerable meadows of the Infinite--but here...." - -And he turned to the other mirror-- - -"Here is the Eternal Beauty, the Divine Harmony, the Sacred Unfathomable -All.... Would a man be content with one rose, when all the roses of all -the rose-gardens of the world were his?..." - -"You mean," said the wise old man, smiling to himself, "that I may take -the mirror back to the princess.... Are you really willing to exchange -her face for the face of the sky?" - -"I am," answered the minstrel. - -"I knew you were a poet," said the sage. - -"And I know that you are very wise," answered the minstrel. - - * * * * * - -Yet, after all, the princess was not so happy to have her mirror back -again as she had expected to be; for had not a wandering poet found -something more beautiful than her face! - - - - -THE PINE LADY - - - O have you seen the Pine Lady, - Or heard her how she sings? - Have you heard her play - Your soul away - On a harp with moonbeam strings? - In a palace all of the night-black pine - She hides like a queen all day, - Till a moonbeam knocks - On her secret tree, - And she opens her door - With a silver key, - While the village clocks - Are striking bed - Nine times sleepily. - - O come and hear the Pine Lady - Up in the haunted wood! - The stars are rising, the moths are flitting, - The owls are calling, - The dew is falling; - And, high in the boughs - Of her haunted house, - The moon and she are sitting. - - Out on the moor the night-jar drones - Rough-throated love, - The beetle comes - With his sudden drums, - And many a silent unseen thing - Frightens your cheek with its ghostly wing; - While there above, - In a palace builded of needles and cones, - The pine is telling the moon her love, - Telling her love on the moonbeam strings-- - O have you seen the Pine Lady, - Or heard her how she sings? - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE KING ON HIS WAY TO BE CROWNED - - -In a green outlying corner of the kingdom of Bohemia, -one summer afternoon, the Grand Duke Stanislaus was busy in his garden, -swarming a hive of bees. He was a tall, middle-aged man of a scholarly, -almost priest-like, type, a gentle-mannered recluse, living only in his -books and his garden, and much loved by the country-folk for the simple -kindness of his heart. He had the most winning of smiles, and a playful -wisdom radiated from his wise, rather weary eyes. No man had ever heard -him utter a harsh word; and, indeed, life passed so tranquilly in that -green corner of Bohemia that even less peaceful natures found it hard to -be angry. There was so little to be angry about. - -Therefore, it was all the stranger to see the good duke suddenly lose -his temper this summer afternoon. - -"Preposterous!" he exclaimed; "was there ever anything quite so -preposterous! To think of interrupting me, at such a moment, with such -news!" - -He spoke from inside a veil of gauze twisted about his head, after the -manner of beekeepers; and was, indeed, just at that moment, engaged in -the delicate operation of transferring a new swarm to another hive. - -The necessity of keeping his mind on his task somewhat restored his -calm. - -"Give the messenger refreshment," he said, "and send for Father -Scholasticus." - -Father Scholasticus was the priest of the village, and the duke's very -dear friend. - -The reason for this explosion was the news, brought by swiftest courier, -that Duke Stanislaus' brother was dead, and that he himself was thus -become King of Bohemia. - -By the time Father Scholasticus arrived, the bees were housed in their -new home, and the duke was seated in his library, among the books that -he loved no less than his bees, with various important-looking -parchments spread out before him: despatches of state brought to him by -the courier, which he had been scanning with great impatience. - -"I warn you, my friend," he said, looking up as the good father -entered, "that you will find me in a very bad temper. Ferdinand is -dead--can you imagine anything more unreasonable of him? He was always -the most inconsiderate of mortals; and now, without the least warning, -he shuffles his responsibilities upon my shoulders." - -The priest knew his friend and the way of his thought, and he could not -help smiling at his quaint petulance. - -"Which means that you are King of Bohemia ... sire!" said he, with a -half-whimsical reverence. Where on earth--he was wondering--was there -another man who would be so put out at being made a king? - -"Exactly," answered the duke. "Do you wonder that I am out of temper? -You must give me your advice. There must be some way out of it. -What--what am I to do?" - -"I am afraid there is nothing for you to do but--reign ... your -Majesty," answered the priest. "I agree with you that it is a great -hardship." - -"Do you really understand how great a hardship it is?" retorted the king -to his friend. "Will you share it with me?" - -"Share it with you?" asked the priest. - -"Yes! as it appears that I must consent to be Head of the World -Temporal--will you consent to be the Head of the World Spiritual? In -short, will you consent to be Archbishop of Bohemia?" - -"Leave the little church that I love, and the kind, simple hearts in my -care, given into my keeping by the goodness of God...." asked the -priest. - -"To be the spiritual shepherd," answered the king, not without irony, -"of the sad flocks of souls that wander, without pastor, the strange -streets of lost cities...." - -The king paused, and added, with his sad, understanding smile, "and to -sit on a gold throne, in a great cathedral, filled with incense and -colored windows." - -And the priest smiled back; for the king and the priest were old friends -and understood and loved each other. - -At that moment there came a sound of trumpets through the quiet boughs, -and the priest, rising and looking through the window, saw a procession -of gilded carriages, from the first of which stepped out a dignified man -with white hair and many years, and robed in purple and ermine. - -"It is your Prime Minister, and your court," answered the priest to the -mute question of the king. And again they smiled together; but the -smile on the face of the king was weary beyond all human words: because -of all the perils that beset a man, the one peril he had feared was the -peril of being made a king, of all the sorrows that sorrow, of all the -foolishness that foolishness; for vanity had long since passed away from -his heart, and the bees and the blossoms of his garden seemed just as -worthy of his care as that swarming hive of ambitious human wasps and -earwigs over which he was thus summoned by sound of trumpet, that happy -summer afternoon--to be the king. Think of being the king of so foul a -kingdom--when one might be the king--of a garden. - -But in spite of his reluctance, the good duke at length admitted the -truth urged upon him by the good priest--that there are sacred duties -inherited by those born in high places and to noble destinies from which -there is no honorable escape, and, on the priest agreeing to be the -Archbishop of Bohemia, he resigned himself to being its king. Thereupon -he received all the various dignitaries and functionaries that could so -little have understood his heart--having in the interval recovered his -lost temper--with all the graciousness for which he was famous, and -appointed a day--as far off as possible--when he would set out, with all -his train, for his coronation in the capital, a journey of many -leagues. - -However, when the day came, and, in fact, at the very moment of the -starting out of the long and glittering cortčge, all the gilded -carriages were suddenly brought to a halt by news coming to the duke of -the sickness and imminent death of a much loved dependent of his, an old -shepherd with whom as a boy he was wont to wander the hills, and listen -eagerly to the lore of times and seasons, of rising and setting stars, -and of the ways of the winds, which are hidden in the hearts of tanned -and withered old men, who have spent their lives out-of-doors under sun -and rain. - -But, to the great impatience of the court ladies and the great bewigged -and powdered gentlemen, the old shepherd lived on for several days, -during which time the duke was constantly at his side. At last, however, -the old shepherd went to his rest, and the procession, which he, humble -soul, would not have believed that he could have delayed, started on its -magnificent way again, with flutter of pennant and feather and song of -trumpet and ladies' laughter. - -But it had traveled only a few leagues when it was again brought to a -standstill by the duke--who was thus progressing to his -coronation--catching sight from his carriage window, as it flitted -past, of an extremely lovely and uncommon butterfly. The duke had, all -his days, been a passionate entomologist, and this particular butterfly -was the one that so far he had been unable to add to his collection. -Therefore he commanded the trumpets to call a halt, and had his -butterfly-net brought to him; and he and several of his gentlemen went -in pursuit of the flitting painted thing; but not that day, nor the -next, was it captured in the royal net, not, in fact, till a whole week -had gone by; and meanwhile the carriages stood idly in the stables, and -the postilions kicked their heels, and the great ladies and gentlemen -fumed at their enforced exile amid country ways and country freshness, -pining to be back once more in that artificial world where alone they -could breathe. - -"To think of a man chasing a butterfly--with a king's crown awaiting -him--and even perhaps a kingdom at stake!" said many a tongue--for -rumors came on the wind that a half-brother of the dead king was -meditating usurpation of the throne, and was already gathering a large -following about him. Urgent despatches were said to have come from the -imperial city begging that his Majesty, for the good of his loyal -subjects, continue his journey with all possible expedition. His -kingdom was at stake! - -The good duke smiled on the messenger and said, "Yes! but look at my -butterfly--" and no one but his friend the priest, of course, had -understood. Murmurs began to arise, indeed, among the courtiers, and -hints of plots even, as the duke pursued his leisurely journey, turning -aside for each wayward fancy. - -One day it would be a turtle crossing the road, with her little ones, -which would bring to a respectful halt all those beautiful gold coaches -and caracoling horses. Tenderly would the good duke step from his -carriage and watch her with his gentle smile--not, doubtless, without -sly laughter in his heart, and an understanding glance from the priest, -that so humble and helpless a creature should for once have it in its -power thus to delay so much worldly pomp and vanity. - -On another occasion, when they had journeyed for a whole day without any -such fanciful interruptions, and the courtiers began to think that they -would reach the imperial city at last, the duke decided to turn aside -several long leagues out of their course, to visit the grave of a great -poet whose songs were one of the chief glories of his land. - -"I may have no other opportunity to do him honor," said the duke. - -And when his advisers ventured to protest, and even to murmur, urging -the increasing jeopardy of his crown, he gently admonished them: - -"Poets are greater than kings," he said, "and what is my poor crown -compared with that crown of laurel which he wears forever among the -immortals?" - -There was no one found to agree with this except the good priest, and -one other, a poor poet who had somehow been included in the train, but -whom few regarded. The priest kept his thoughts to himself, but the poet -created some amusement by openly agreeing with the duke. - -But, of course, the royal will had to be accepted with such grace as the -courtiers could find to hide their discontented--and even, in the case -of some, their disaffected--hearts; for some of them, at this new whimsy -of the duke's, secretly sent messengers to the would-be usurper -promising him their allegiance and support. - -So, at length, after a day's journey, the peaceful valley was reached -where the poet lay at rest among the simple peasants whom he had -loved--kindly folk who still carried his songs in their hearts, and sang -them at evening to their babies and sweethearts, and each day brought -flowers to his green, bird-haunted grave. - -When the duke came and bowed his head in that quiet place, carrying in -his hands a wreath of laurel, his heart was much moved by their simple -flowers lying there, fresh and glittering, as with new-shed tears; and, -as he reverently knelt and placed the wreath upon the sleeping mound, he -said aloud, in the humility of his great heart: - -"What is such an offering as mine, compared with these?" - -And a picture came to him of the peaceful valley he had left behind, and -of the simple folk he loved who were his friends, and more and more his -heart missed them, and less and less it rejoiced at the journey still -before him, and still more foolish seemed his crown. - -So, with a great sigh, he rose from the poet's grave, and gave word for -the carriages once more to move along the leafy lanes. - -And, to the great satisfaction of the courtiers, the duke delayed them -no more, for his heart grew heavier within him, and he sat with his head -on his breast, speaking little even to his dear friend the priest, who -rode with him, and scarcely looking out of the windows of his carriage, -for any wonder of the way. - -At length the broad walls and towers of the city came in sight,--a city -set in a fair land of meadow and stream. The morning sun shone bright -over it, and the priest, looking up, perceived how it glittered upon a -great building of many white towers, whose gilt pinnacles gleamed like -so many crowns of gold. - -"Look, your Majesty," he said, with a sad attempt at gaiety, "yonder is -your palace." - -And the duke looked up from a deep reverie, and saw his palace, and -groaned aloud. - -But presently there came a sad twinkle in his sad eyes, as he descried -another building of many peaks and pinnacles glittering in the sun. - -"Look up, my Lord Archbishop," he said, turning to his friend, "yonder -is _your_ palace." - -And as the good priest looked, his face was all sorrow, and the tears -overflowed his eyes, as he thought of the simple souls once in his -keeping, in his parish far away. - -But presently the king, looking again toward the palace, descried a flag -floating from one of the towers, covered with heraldic devices. - -As he looked, it seemed that ten years of weariness fell from his face, -and a great joy returned. - -"Look," he said, almost in a whisper, to the priest, "those are not my -arms!..." - -The priest looked, and then looked again into the duke's eyes, and ten -years of weariness fell from his face also, and a great joy returned. - -"Thank God! we are saved," the duke and the priest exclaimed together, -and fell laughing upon each other's shoulders. For the arms floating -from the tower of the palace were the arms of the usurper, and the king -that cared not to be a king had lost his kingdom. - -And, while they were still rejoicing together, there came the sound of -many horsemen from the direction of the city, a cavalcade of many -glittering spears. The duke halted his train to await their coming, and -when they had arrived where the duke was, a herald in cloth of gold -broke from their ranks and read aloud from a great parchment many -sounding words--the meaning of which was that the good Duke Stanislaus -had been deposed from his kingdom, and that the High and Mighty Prince, -the usurper, reigned in his stead. - -When the herald had concluded the duke's voice was heard in reply: - -"It is well--it is very well!" he said. "Gather yonder white flower and -take it back to your master, and say that it is the white flower of -peace betwixt him and me." - -And astonishment fell on all, and no one, of course, except the priest, -understood. All thought that the good duke had lost his wits, which, -indeed, had been the growing belief of his courtiers for some time. - -But the herald gathered the white flower and carried it back to the -city, with sound of many trumpets. Need one say that the usurper least -of all understood? - -With the herald went all the gilded coaches and the fine ladies and -gentlemen, complaining sadly that they had had such a long and tedious -journey to no purpose, and hastening with all speed to take their -allegiance to the new king. - -The duke's own people alone remained with him, and, when all the rest -had gone, the duke gave orders for the horses' heads to be turned -homeward, to the green valley in which alone he cared to be a king. - -"Back to the bees and the books and the kind country hearts," cried the -duke to his friend. - -"Back to the little church among the quiet trees," added the priest, who -had cared as little for an archbishop's miter as the duke for a kingly -crown. - -Since then the duke had been left to hive his bees in peace, and it may -be added that he has never been known to lose his temper again. - - - - -THE STOLEN DREAM - - -The sun was setting, and slanting long lanes of golden light through the -trees, as an old man, borne done by a heavy pack, came wearily through -the wood, and at last, as if worn out with the day's travel, -unshouldered his burden and threw himself down to rest at the foot of a -great oak-tree. He was very old, older far he seemed than the tree under -whose gnarled boughs he was resting, though that looked as if it had -been growing since the beginning of the world. His back was bent as with -the weight of years, though really it had become so from the weight of -the pack that he carried; his cheeks were furrowed like the bark of a -tree, and far down upon his breast fell a beard as white as snow. But -his deep-set eyes were still bright and keen, though sly and cruel, and -his long nose was like the beak of a hawk. His hands were like roots -strong and knotted, and his fingers ended in talon-like nails. In -repose, even, they seemed to be clutching something, something they -loved to touch, and would never let go. His clothes were in rags and his -shoes scarce held to his feet. He seemed as abjectly poor as he was -abjectly old. - -Presently, when he had rested awhile, he turned to his pack, and, -furtively glancing with his keen eyes up and down the wood, to make sure -that he was alone, he drew from it a sack of leather which was evidently -of great weight. Its mouth was fastened by sliding thongs, which he -loosened with tremulous, eager hands. First he took from the bag a -square of some purple silk stuff, which he spread out on the turf beside -him, and then, his eyes gleaming with a wild light, he carefully poured -out the contents of the bag on to the purple square, a torrent of gold -and silver coins and precious stones flashing like rainbows--a king's -treasure. The setting sun flashed on the glittering heap, turning it -into a dazzle of many-colored fire. The treasure seemed to light up the -wood far and near, and the gaudy summer flowers, that a moment before -had seemed so bright and splendid, fell into shadow before its radiance. - -The old man bathed his claw-like hands in the treasure with a ghoulish -ecstasy, and let the gold and silver pour through his fingers over and -over again, streams of jeweled light gleaming and flashing in the level -rays of the sun. As he did so, he murmured inarticulately to himself, -gloating and gurgling with a lonely, hideous joy. - -Suddenly a look of fear came over his face; he seemed to hear voices -coming up the wood, and, huddling his treasure swiftly back again into -the leathern bag, and the bag into the folds of his pack, he rose and -sought some bushes near by to hide himself from the sight of whomsoever -it was that approached. But, as he shouldered his pack, he half -staggered, for the pack was of great weight and he heaved a deep sigh. - -"It grows heavier and heavier," he muttered. "I cannot carry it much -longer. I shall never be able to carry it with me to the grave." - -As he disappeared among the bushes, a young man and a young woman, with -arms twined round each other, came slowly up the glade and presently sat -down at the foot of the tree where the old man had been resting a moment -or two before. - -"Why, what is this?" presently exclaimed the young girl, picking up -something bright out of the grass. It was a gold coin, which, in his -haste, the old man had let slip through his fingers. - -"Gold!" they both exclaimed together. - -"It will buy you a new silk gown," said the lover. "Who ever heard of -such luck?" And then he sighed. - -"Ah! dear heart," he said, "if only we had more like that! Then we could -fulfil our dream." - -As the sun poured its last rays over them there at the foot of the oak, -it was to be seen that they were very poor. Their clothes were old and -weather-stained, and they had no shoes to their feet; but the white feet -of the girl shone like ivory flowers in the grass, and her hair was a -sheaf of ruddy gold. Nor was there a jewel in all the old man's treasure -as blue as her eyes. And the young man, in his manly fashion, was no -less brave and fair to look upon. - -In a little while they turned to a poor wallet at the young man's side. -"Let us eat our supper," they said. - -But there was little more than a crust or two, a few morsels of cheese, -and a mouthful or two of sour wine. Still, they were accustomed to being -hungry, and the thought of the gold coin cheered their hearts. So they -grew content, and after a while they nestled close into each other's -arms and fell asleep, while slowly and softly through the woods came the -light of the moon. - -Now all this time the old man had lain hidden, crouched down among the -bushes, afraid almost to draw his breath, but from where he was he could -hear and see all, and had overheard all that had been said. At length, -after the lovers had been silent for a long time, he took courage to -peer out from his hiding-place, and he saw that they were asleep. He -would wait a little longer, though, till their sleep was sounder, and -then he might be able perhaps to creep away unheard. So he waited on, -and the moon grew brighter and brighter, and flooded the woods with its -strange silver. And the lovers fell deeper and deeper asleep. - -"It will be safe now," said the old man, half rising and looking out -from his bushes. But this time, as he looked out, he saw something, -something very strange and beautiful. - -Hovering over the sleeping lovers was a floating, flickering shape that -seemed made of moonbeams, with two great shining stars for its eyes. It -was the dream that came nightly to watch over the sleep of the lovers; -and, as the miser gazed at it in wonder, a strange change came over his -soul, and he saw that all the treasure he had hoarded so long--gathered -by the cruel practices of years, and with carrying which about the world -his back had grown bent--was as dross compared with this beautiful -dream of two poor lovers, to whom but one of all his gold pieces had -seemed like a fortune. - -"What, after all, is it to me but a weary burden my shoulders grow too -old to carry," he murmured, "and for the sake of which my life is in -danger wherever I go, and to guard which I must hide away from the eyes -of men?" - -And the longer he gazed on the fair, shining vision, the more the -longing grew within him to possess it for himself. - -"They shall have my treasure in exchange," he said to himself, -approaching nearer to the sleepers, treading softly lest he should -awaken them. But they slept on, lost in the profound slumber of innocent -youth. As he drew near, the dream shrank from him, with fear in its -starry eyes; but it seemed the more beautiful to the old man the closer -he came to it and saw of what divine radiance it was made; and, with his -desire, his confidence grew greater. So, softly placing his leather bag -in the flowers by the side of the sleepers, he thrust out his talon-like -fingers and snatched the dream by the hand, and hurried away, dragging -it after him down the wood, fearfully turning now and again to see that -he was not pursued. - -But the sleepers still slept on, and by morning the miser was far away, -with the captive dream by his side. - -As the earliest birds chimed through the wood, and the dawn glittered on -the dewy flowers, the lovers awoke and kissed each other and laughed in -the light of the new day. - -"But what is this?" cried the girl, and her hands fell from the pretty -task of coiling up the sunrise of her hair. - -With a cry they both fell upon the leather bag, lying there so -mysteriously among the wood-lilies in the grass. With eager fingers they -drew apart the leather thongs, and went half-mad with wonder and joy as -they poured out the glittering treasure in the morning sun. - -"What can it all mean?" they cried. "The fairies must have been here in -the night." - -But the treasure seemed real enough. The jewels were not merely dewdrops -turned to diamonds and rubies and amethysts by the magic beams of the -sun, nor was the gold mere gold of faerie, but coins bearing the image -of the king of the land. Here were real jewels, real gold and silver. -Like children, they dabbled their hands in the shining heap, tossing -them up and pouring them from one hand to the other, flashing and -shimmering in the morning light. - -Then a fear came on them. - -"But folk will say that we have stolen them," said the youth; "they will -take them from us, and cast us into prison." - -"No, I believe some god has heard our prayer," said the girl, "and sent -them down from heaven in the night. He who sent them will see that we -come to no harm." - -And again they fell to pouring them through their fingers and babbling -in their delight. - -"Do you remember what we said last night when we found the gold piece?" -said the girl. "If only we had more of them! Surely our good angel heard -us, and sent them in answer." - -"It is true," said the young man. "They were sent to fulfil our dream." - -"Our poor starved and tattered dream!" said the girl. "How splendidly we -can clothe and feed it now! What a fine house we can build for it to -live in! It shall eat from gold and silver plate, and it shall wear -robes of wonderful silks and lawns like rainbows, and glitter with -jewels, blue and yellow and ruby, jewels like fire fountains and the -depths of the sea." - -But, as they spoke, a sudden disquietude fell over them, and they looked -at each other with a new fear. - -"But where _is_ our dream?" said the girl, looking anxiously around. And -they realized that their dream was nowhere to be seen. - -"I seemed to miss it once in the night," answered the young man in -alarm, "but I was too sleepy to heed. Where can it be?" - -"It cannot be far away," said the girl. "Perhaps it has wandered off -among the flowers." - -But they were now thoroughly alarmed. - -"Where can it have gone?" they both cried. And they rose up and ran to -and fro through the wood, calling out aloud on their dream. But no voice -came back in reply, nor, though they sought high and low in covert and -brake, could they find a sign of it anywhere. Their dream was lost. Seek -as they might, it was nowhere to be found. - -And then they sat down by the treasure weeping, forgetting it all in -this new sorrow. - -"What shall we do?" they cried. "We have lost our dream." - -For a while they sat on, inconsolable. Then a thought came to the girl. - -"Some one must have stolen it from us. It would never have left us of -its own accord," said she. - -And, as she spoke, her eyes fell on the forgotten treasure. - -"What use are these to us now, without our dream?" she said. - -"Who knows?" said the young man; "perhaps some one has stolen our dream -to sell it into bondage. We must go and seek it, and maybe we can buy it -back again with this treasure." - -"Let us start at once," said the girl, drying her tears at this ray of -hope; and so, replacing the treasure in the bag, the young man slung it -at the end of his staff, and together they set off down the wood, -seeking their lost dream. - -Meanwhile, the old man had journeyed hastily and far, the dream -following in his footsteps, sorrowing; and at length he came to a fair -meadow, and by the edge of a stream he sat down to rest himself, and -called the dream to his side. - -The dream shone nothing like so brightly as in the moonlit woodland, and -its eyes were heavy as with weeping. - -"Sing to me," said the old man, "to cheer my tired heart." - -"I know no songs," said the dream, sadly. - -"You lie," said the old man. "I saw the songs last night in the depths -of your eyes." - -"I cannot sing them to you," said the dream. "I can only sing them to -the simple hearts I made them for, the hearts you stole me from." - -"Stole you!" said the old man. "Did I not leave my treasure in -exchange?" - -"Your treasure will be nothing to them without me," said the dream. - -"You talk folly," said the old man. "With my treasure they can buy other -dreams just as fair as you are. Do you think that you are the only dream -in the world? There is no dream that money cannot buy." - -"But I am their own dream. They will be happy with no other," said the -dream. - -"You shall sing to me, all the same," said the old man, angrily. But the -dream shrank from him and covered its face. - -"If I sang to you, you would not understand. Your heart is old and hard -and cruel, and my songs are all of youth and love and joy." - -"Those are the songs I would hear," said the old man. - -"But I cannot sing them to you, and if I sang them you could not hear." - -"Sing," again cried the old man, harshly; "sing, I bid you." - -"I can never sing again," said the dream. "I can only die." - -And for none of the old man's threats would the dream sing to him, but -sat apart, mourning the loved ones it had lost. - -So several days passed by, and every day the dream was growing less -bright, a creature of tears and sighs, more and more fading away, like a -withering flower. At length it was nothing but a gray shadow, a weary -shape of mist that seemed ready to dissolve and vanish at any breath of -wind. No one could have known it for that radiant vision that had -hovered shimmering with such a divine light over the sleep of the -lovers. - -At length the old man lost patience, and began to curse himself for a -fool in that he had parted with so great a treasure for this worthless, -whimpering thing. And he raved like a madman as he saw in fancy all the -gold and silver and rainbow-tinted jewels he had so foolishly thrown -away. - -"Take me back to them," said the dream, "and they will give you back -your treasure." - -"A likely thing," raged the old man, "to give back a treasure like that -for such a sorry phantom." - -"You will see," said the dream. - -As there was nothing else to be done, the old man took up his staff. - -"Come along, then," said he, and started off in the direction of the -wood, and, though it was some days' journey, a glow flushed all through -the gray shape of the dream at the news, and its eyes began to shine -again. - -And so they took their way. - -But meanwhile the two lovers had gone from village to village, and city -to city, vainly asking news of their dream. And to every one they asked -they showed their treasure and said: - -"This is all yours if you can but give us back our dream." - -But nowhere could they learn any tidings, but gleaned only mockery and -derision. - -"You must be mad," said some, "to seek a dream when you have all that -wealth in your pack. Of what use is a dream to any one? And what more -dream do you want than gold and precious stones?" - -"Ah! our dream," said the lovers, "is worth all the gold and jewels in -the world." - -Sometimes others would come, bringing their own dreams. - -"Take this," they would say, "and give us your treasure." - -But the lovers would shake their heads sadly. - -"No, your dreams are not so beautiful as ours. No other dream can take -its place. We can only be happy with our own dream." - -And, indeed, the dreams that were brought to them seemed poor, pitiful, -make-believe things, often ignoble, misbegotten, sordid, and cruel. To -the lovers they seemed not dreams at all, but shapes of greed and -selfish desire. - -So the days passed, bringing them neither tidings nor hope, and there -came at length an evening when they turned their steps again to the -woodland, and sat down once more under the great oak-tree in the sunset. - -"Perhaps our dream has been waiting for us here all the time," they -said. - -But the wood was empty and echoing, and they sat and ate their supper as -before, but silently and in sorrow, and as the sun set they fell asleep -as before in each other's arms, but with tears glittering on their -eyelids. - -And again the moon came flooding the spaces of the wood, and nothing was -heard but their breathing and the song of a distant nightingale. - -But presently while they slept there was a sound of stealthy footsteps -coming up the wood. - -It was the old man, with the dream shining by his side, and ever and -anon running ahead of him in the eagerness of its hope. Suddenly it -stopped, glowing and shimmering like the dancing of the northern -lights, and placed a starry finger on its lips for silence. - -"See," it whispered, and there were the lovers, lying lost in sleep. - -But the old man's wolfish eyes saw but one thing. There lay the leather -bag of his treasure just as he had left it. Without a word, he snatched -it up and hastened off with it down the wood, gurgling uncouthly to -himself. - -"Oh, my beauties!" he cried, as he sat himself down afar off and poured -out the gold and the silver and the gleaming stones into the moonlight. -"Oh, my love, my life, and my delight! What other dream could I have but -you?" - -Meanwhile, the lovers stirred in their sleep, and murmured to each -other. - -"I seemed to hear singing," each said. - -And, half opening their eyes, they saw their dream shining and singing -above them in the moonbeams, lovelier than ever before, a shape of -heavenly silver, with two stars for its eyes. - -"Our dream has come back!" they cried to each other. "Dear dream, we had -to lose you to know how beautiful you are!" - -And with a happy sigh they turned to sleep again, while the dream kept -watch over them till the dawn. - - - - -THE STERN EDUCATION OF CLOWNS - - -A clown out of work for many weeks had trudged the country roads, -footsore and hungry, vainly seeking an engagement. At length, one -afternoon, he arrived at a certain village and spied the canvas tent and -the painted wagons of a traveling circus. This sight put a pale hope -into his sad heart, and he approached the tent as bravely as he could to -find the proprietor of the show. Sad as was his heart, his face looked -sadder; and he did not, it is to be feared, make a very impressive -appearance, as at last he found the proprietor sitting on the side of -the sawdust ring, eating lunch with the Columbine. The circus proprietor -was large and swarthy and brutal to look on, and his sullen, cruel eyes -looked sternly at the little clown, who, between a sad heart and a -long-empty stomach, had very little courage left in his frame. - -"Well!" roared the proprietor. "What is it?" - -The little clown explained his profession and his need of an engagement; -and stood there, hat in hand, with tremulous knees. - -The circus proprietor looked at him a long time in contemptuous silence, -and then, with an ugly sneer, said: - -"Have you ever had your heart broken?" - -"Indeed I have," answered the clown. "For to have your heart broken is -part of the business of a clown." - -"How many times?" - -"Six." - -"Not enough," answered the proprietor, roughly, turning again to his -lunch with the Columbine. "Get it broken again and come back; then -perhaps we can talk business." - -And the little clown went away; but he had hardly gone a few yards -before his heart broke for the seventh time--because of the bitterness -of the world. - -Yet, being wise, he waited a day or two, living as best he could along -the country roads, and then at length he came back about noon to the -circus, and again the proprietor was eating lunch with the Columbine, -and again he looked up, sullen and sneering, and said: - -"Well?" - -The clown explained that his heart had been broken for the seventh time. - -"Good," said the circus proprietor. "Wait till I have eaten lunch and we -will talk business." - -And the clown sat at the side of the ring, and the proprietor and the -Columbine ate and laughed as if he were not there. - -At length, finishing a tankard of ale, and wiping his mouth on the back -of his hand, the circus proprietor arose and beckoned the clown to come -to him. - -At the same time he took a long ringmaster's whip, and the Columbine -took one end of a skipping-rope, while he held the other. - -"Now," said the circus proprietor, "while we twirl the skipping-rope you -are to dance over it, and at the same time I will lash your shins with -this whip; and if, as you skip over the rope, you can laugh and -sing--like a child dancing on blue flowers in a meadow--I will give -you"--the proprietor hesitated a moment--"six dollars a week." - -So it was that the clown at last got an engagement. - - -THE END - - - Transcriber's note: - - _Underscores_ have been used to indicate _italic_ fonts. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Maker of Rainbows, by Richard Le Gallienne - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKER OF RAINBOWS *** - -***** This file should be named 41921-8.txt or 41921-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/9/2/41921/ - -Produced by Anna Hall and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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